“Wow,” Mom said when I finished my tale. “That’s some story.”
“Tell me about it,” I said. “But seriously, Mom. I have no idea what got into Isaac. It was so unlike him.”
“What do you mean unlike him? That sounds just like something your brother would do.”
I scoffed. “No, it doesn’t. Calling me Dandelion and hiding all my hairbands in the back of the toilet sounds like something he would do.”
Mom laughed. “He was ten when that happened, Dani. Cut him some slack.”
“It was just so out of the blue,” I said. “We haven’t gotten along in forever, and all of a sudden he’s doing this huge nice thing for me. I mean, it’s amazing. I’m grateful. I just didn’t expect it.”
“Dani,” Mom said. “Permission to speak freely?”
I shifted, pulling my knees up close to my chest. If I said yes, she wouldn’t hold back. “Fine, go,” I finally consented.
“You are the most driven woman I know,” Mom said. “Single-minded. Focused. Determined.”
I braced myself. The but was coming.
“But sometimes that single-minded dedication inhibits your ability to see other people.”
My shoulders tensed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, your brother has always had a heart the size of Fort Sumter.” My heart squeezed at the Mom-expression I’d frequently claimed as my own. “He’s been taking care of people since he was tiny. Sitting with the kid on the bus that no one else would sit with. Making people laugh. Making people feel included. You’ve never been very good at seeing that about him. You see an MIT drop out. I see a man who has created an entire online empire based around the notion that random acts of kindness can change the world.”
I rolled my eyes. “His show is all about him, Mom. It’s YouTube. They’re all that way.”
Mom cleared her throat. “When was the last time you watched his show?”
I didn’t answer.
“Give your brother the credit he deserves, Dani. He had to swallow a lot of pride to reach out to you in this way. You’ve hurt him with your doubting and scoffing and condescension.”
“That’s not fair,” I finally said. “Maybe that’s what he tells you, but then when he’s around me, most of the time he’s constantly making fun of me, cracking jokes, calling me Dandelion. He’s not always nice, Mom. Not to me.”
“Maybe not. But is it possible the jokes are a part of his defense mechanism? He’s so desperate for you to be proud of him.”
I huffed a sigh. “I am proud!”
“Have you ever told him that?”
“It’s not like he’s spent a ton of time being proud of me,” I said defensively. “He’s just as critical of my career choice as I am of his.”
“He’s never been critical of what you do; he’s been critical of LeFranc. There’s a difference.”
She had a point there. “Yeah. I’ve seen some of that since coming home. Did you know he has a picture of my prom dress on his phone?”
Mom chuckled. “That dress was something else.”
“That dress was horrible.”
“You were sixteen.”
“And I thought I was the stuff, too. I was so proud of that dress.”
“Isaac was proud of that dress. Do you remember all the time he spent ironing the seams for you?”
I closed my eyes. “And then when my sewing machine broke, he pinned the zipper for me while I fixed my hair.”
Mom chuckled. “You were hand-stitching that zipper in seconds before your date showed up.”
“I had forgotten how much he helped me that day.”
“It might do you some good to remember, Dani. I know his jokes can hurt, but he loves you.”
“I know. Thanks, Mom.”
“How has it been with Alex around?”
I sighed. “It’s fine, I guess. On the surface, anyway. But being around him so much reminds me of all the things I loved about him. That part’s hard.”
“Do you still love him?”
I pulled the blankets up closer, noting the softness of the sheets. Isaac hadn’t skimped. “Sometimes I think I do. But I can’t stop remembering how desperate I felt after he left. When I think of the messages I sent him, the voicemails, it’s embarrassing. And all that time he was down here with Isaac, ignoring everything I sent.”
“Why would you feel embarrassed?” Mom asked. “You think he was seeing your messages and judging you? Laughing at you?”
“No,” I said quickly. “Except, maybe yes. Otherwise, he would have responded.”
“Dani, if thirty years of marriage has taught me anything, it’s that everything isn’t always about me. Sometimes your father will go silent and I’ll assume it’s because I’ve said something or done something that made him mad. And every once in a while, it does have something to do with me. But you know why he’s usually silent?”
“Why?”
“Because he’s frustrated with himself. He’s processing, internalizing. Don’t be so quick to assume that Alex’s silence only had to do with your actions. He was surely going through something too.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”
“Have you talked about it yet?”
I shifted, pulling the covers closer to my chin. “Not really. I mean, he apologized, which is good. I’m just having a hard time understanding why he had to run away.” I thought of the explanation he’d offered—that he legally couldn’t talk to me. Surely whatever legal order he was under hadn’t demanded wordless abandonment.
“People make mistakes, Dani.”
“Yeah, I know.” I thought about our hug in the kitchen this afternoon and a fresh wave of embarrassment swept over me. It had felt amazing in the moment, but thinking back, I wasn’t so sure about it. It had taken Alex a long time to hug me back and when he had, it had only been halfway. I’d probably made him so uncomfortable.
“Hang in there, sweetie,” Mom said. “It’ll all work out.”
“Tell Dad I said hi,” I told her. “And I love you both.”
Before going to sleep, and with Mom’s advice fresh in my brain, I keyed out a message to Alex. I’m sorry if I made things weird with the hug.
His response came through only seconds later. The hug was nice. I didn’t mind.
My heart rate spiked as I read his words. Nice? What did that mean? Feeling bold, I typed out, Steven asked me out. But not until he asked me if there was something going on between me and you.
Oh, he texted back. Okay.
I told him no. Why did I feel like I needed to explain? To the date, I quickly amended. Also to the thing about us.
Okay, Alex texted again.
I pressed my phone to my forehead. Why had I even started this conversation? I chewed on my lip as I considered what to say next. My hands trembled as I keyed out my next message. I think I’m ready to talk.
Right now? About . . . us?
I closed my eyes. He thought there was an us? About LeFranc.
Right. That makes more sense.
So he didn’t think there was an us.