This time my offence isn’t even fake. “Why is everyone being someanto me today? First Paige, now you. I’m pretty sure even Dylan wanted to tell me off for being moody. I just lost the girl I waited three years to have. I’m allowed to be moody!”
“Yes!” Hope starts clapping like I’ve just finished piecing a puzzle together. “Exactly! You’re allowed to feel things. You’re allowed towantthings.”
“Uh, okay?” I scratch my beard. “I’m not following.”
She starts swivelling her chair around again. “It just makes me so mad to hear you say you’ll be satisfied with whatever someone is willing to give you. You are this smart, funny, sweet, and amazing dude, and you are worth something—something more than just the scraps of what other people are willing to give you.”
I start to protest, but she cuts me off again.
“I know DeeDee gave you more than just scraps. I know she gave you whatever she could, but let’s face it. Even she saw she couldn’t give you everything you needed, and that’s what I want you to see for yourself. It’s still sad and it’s still gonna hurt, but I just—”
She starts choking up, and I realize a few tears have started seeping down her cheeks. I’ve seen Hope get emotional before, but never over me.
“Aww, Dopey Hopey.”
I try to make her smile with the childhood nickname she always complained about, but the memory only makes her cry even harder.
“I just—I just—” She fights to get the words out. “I just wish you would care about yourself even a fraction of how much I care about you. You know how much I adored DeeDee, but even if she showed up at your door right now swearing she was ready to give it another shot, you better make damn well sure she means it, because you’re wrong, you know? People don’t just need each other exactly as they are. I know that sounds romantic and shit, but that’s not how relationships work.”
She shifts to the side and points at her lacrosse photo.
“Being part of a relationship is like being part of a team. My team picked me because I had everything they wanted during tryouts, but the work doesn’t stop there.” Her sniffles fade, and her voices starts to ring with the courage and pride I’ve always admired in her. “I prove myself every single day. I have expectations for my teammates, and they have expectations for me. Sure, sometimes we fuck up. Someone will miss practice or forget their gear or screw up what should have been a perfect pass, but we don’t lower our expectations, even when we forgive people and give them another shot—even when people reallywantto meet those expectations but they just can’t and we have to let them go. That’s not cruelty or selfishness. That’s recognizing what it takes to have a successful team.”
She’s panting when she finishes, eyes still glassy as they bore into her laptop camera. I give her a moment to pull it together before I reply.
“That’s...That’s really wise, Hope. I don’t mean that sarcastically. Really. I’m...Thank you for sharing that. It makes a lot of sense...but there’s still stuff I spent my whole life being taught about patience, about love—”
“Of course you can be patient and loving!” she cuts in. “You can’t date someonewithoutbeing patient and loving, but you also needlimits. You need boundaries of what you can and cannot take.”
She is clearly not in a mood to be contradicted, so I stay silent and let her words sink in. I let them repeat themselves in my head, and as much as I want to protest or deny what she’s trying to tell me, I force myself to let her advice settle without my own beliefs pouncing on it.
“Just tell me you’ll think about it,” Hope pleads.
I nod. “I will. Really.”
“Okay, good.”
A few more moments pass. She swipes at her eyes, and soon we’re both laughing at nothing in that particular way only siblings can.
“So...” she says with a sly lilt in her voice after we’ve got ourselves under control. “Considering you now have six G’s coming in every month, I just wanted to draw your attention to the fact that my birthday is coming up...”
Twenty-Four
DeeDee
NEAT: a liquor that is served undiluted and unaccompanied by anything else
I tip backthe last sip of my drink where I’m sitting in a very hipster coffee shop a few blocks away from Taverne Toulouse. I’ve been in here typing away on my laptop for so many hours my fingers are sore. I’m all jumpy and shaky from having two iced lattes and one lemonade, and I’m sure the staff here think I’m a maniac, but if I don’t get this all done in one go, I know I’ll chicken out and put it off until it’s too late.
Applications for the fall term at Cheveluxe close on June fifteenth.
As in, today.
My details are all submitted. My statement of experience has been uploaded. I’ve paid the fee. I just need to attach my letter of intent, and I’ll be done.
I hover my mouse over the ‘Save File’ button.
Click it. Just click it.
