“I learned long ago not to question the ways of our mother.”
I settle back onto my pillows in bed. “Well you certainly questioned her rules every chance you got growing up.”
“And you were a goodie two shoes,” she shoots back. “You were like Mom’s disciple, always carrying food to the neighbors and putting others before yourself.”
She says the last part with an extra pious expression and her hands poised like some sort of yogi.
“What’s wrong with that?” I demand.
“Nothing, except you and Mom are like, extreme about it. You both bend over backwards for everyone else until you collapse. You have zero boundaries.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Wow, Hope. Tell me how you really feel.”
“I’m sorry.” She pushes away from her laptop a little, swivelling in her desk chair. I can see a huge framed photo of her lacrosse team on the wall behind her, along with a very hipster-looking macramé plant holder. “I just get very passionate about this. You’ve always been there for me, helping me reach my goals, and I want to help you do that too. Speaking of, tell me the news!”
I spill the beans, and she, predictably, flips her shit. She pulls out an actual air horn from somewhere in her room and starts blasting it while dancing around.
“Hope, that’s hurting my ears,” I complain. “Your roommates are probably about to murder you.”
She just prances away off camera, and I hear her door open before she shouts, “My brother is a rich and successful businessman!”
“How did you find people willing to live with you?” I ask after she settles back down in her chair.
“Oh, they’re all even louder than me. We’re lacrosse players. We hit people with sticks for fun. Rowdiness is in our blood.”
“Are you actually supposed to hit people with the sticks?”
She pauses. “Technically no, but it’s hard to avoid. So, what are your big plans now that you’re making all this dough?”
“Well...” I trail off and sigh. “To be honest, I don’t feel as ecstatic about it as I thought I would.”
Hope’s face softens, and she wheels herself closer to her desk so her face takes up most of the screen. The sight of her blue eyes behind her glasses, the eyes everybody says are the exact same colour as mine, makes me wish she was here so strongly it’s a physical ache in my chest.
“You’re not doing well, are you, Zach?”
“I want to be doing well,” I admit. “I know I’m doing the right thing. She...she needed to do what she did. I believe that, but...everybody keeps telling me I need to pay more attention to what I need, and I know it sounds stupid and sappy and maybe even pathetic, but I really feel like I need her. I didn’t care about the labels or the details or how long it was going to take. I would have taken whatever she had to gi—”
“Brother.” Hope cuts me off, holding one hand up in the universal sign for ‘stop.’ “I am going to halt you right there and ask you to think about what you’re saying.”
I indulge her and sit in silence for a few seconds.
“Okay. I’m thinking about it.”
“Do you realize what bullshit it is yet?”
This time my offence isn’t even fake. “Why is everyone being so mean to 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 to want things.”
“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 really want to 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 someone without being patient and loving, but you also need limits. 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...”