Chapter 31

It’s the most fun I’ve had with my family in a long time. As the wind whistles in the chimney and the darkening clouds cover our town in heavy snow, we sit on the rug, wrapped in furry sweaters, cradling mugs of steaming tea and cocoa, playing games and making jokes. I fry up a pan of gluten-free cranberry skillet cookies.

Liam slides into our family easily; I’m grateful my dad says yes when I ask if he can stay with us through the storm and I wonder, in spite of myself, how differently the evening might have been if my mother had been there in his place. Deep down, I know the answer, and it hurts that I’m secretly relieved she isn’t here. Mom would have asked Liam why he was homeless during a winter storm, would have dug to the bottom of his history, bared the embarrassing details, and then insisted on justice. I would have had to wrestle the phone from her hands to keep her from calling social services. And Mom would probably have been right.

But I’m not sure I want to be right. For now, I just want Liam to be happy.

“Who knew you could fry a cookie?” Liam remarks, taking a bite. “They’re delicious.”

“Really?” I smile, breaking off a piece. “I’m so happy you like it! You guys want another batch?”

“I am not eating that,” Ethan declares. “It looks like petrified fruitcake. And it smells like cranberries and feet.”

Liam chokes, spewing crumbs across the rug, and my father cautiously sniffs the edge of his plate.

“Oh, yeah,” I say. “Sorry about that. I didn’t have gluten-free cornflakes crumbs so I crushed up a bag of corn chips instead.”

“Thank God. I was wondering what that odor was,” my father says. “I thought it was me.”

“You’re inventive, Rain,” Liam asserts graciously. “No one else would have thought to do that.”

“That’s true,” Dad says. “Very resourceful.”

“Maybe,” Ethan persists. “But this cookie makes people question their hygiene. So I’d call that a failed experiment.”

“Yeah, well, my experiments are all for you,” I point out acidly. “Mom says that these recipes are good for you.”

Ethan opens his mouth to answer, but Dad cuts him off with a smile. “Okay guys. Ethan, you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”

“Good for me how?”

“You know, Rain,” Liam chimes in, ignoring Ethan’s protest, “your skills will be very useful when we’re abroad next year. These cakes can probably last for weeks. They’re perfect snacks for backpacking.”

“Wait, what’s happening next year?” my father asks.

It’s an awkward segue. Liam seems embarrassed when he sees me hesitate.

“Where are you going, Rain?” Ethan asks.

There’s a heavy silence. I swallow and cast a frustrated look at Liam. A moment later, the stillness is broken by the whistle of the teakettle on the stove. It’s a welcome distraction, and I rush to fuss over the brewing pot. I can’t avoid the questions forever, though; after a couple of minutes of stirring, I have no choice but to return to the living room.

“I’m sorry,” Liam stammers as I fill their mugs. “I didn’t realize you hadn’t told them.”

“Told us what?”

“There’s nothing to tell yet,” I say, settling down next to Ethan. As I cross my legs, a sharp pain shoots up my left side, cutting off my breath. I clutch my hip and exhale slowly. “I really must have sprained something pretty badly during our run.”

“Where are you going next year?” Ethan repeats.

I sigh and shift to my right. The pain subsides to a dull ache, but it continues to throb, deepening as I breathe. “I haven’t decided yet. And anyway, it’s more than a year away, but Liam was talking about maybe doing a gap year abroad together—”

“It’s a wonderful opportunity,” Liam breaks in eagerly. “It looks great on college applications. You get to work with needy communities all over the world—”

“Liam, it’s okay, you don’t have to sell it,” I say shortly. “They know it would be a good experience.”

It looks like my father is already on board. “Just let me know what you decide, Rain,” he tells me. “If it’s a question of money—”

“Thanks, Dad. But I wasn’t exactly thinking of the money, not yet…”

I was thinking about my brother, I want to add, but everyone can see that. I don’t need to finish the thought. Ethan’s expression does it for me. He doesn’t speak for a moment; he appears to be glaring at some point between the sofa and the coffee table. Then he scrambles to his feet.

“I need to study.”

“Ethan—” Dad gets up and reaches out to him, then stops, his fingers an inch away from Ethan’s shoulder. “This could be a good thing for both of you. We talked about this, remember? You two may not end up in the same college. So this will prepare you—”

“I need to study.”

“Ethan, I haven’t actually made up my mind yet—” I begin.

“I need to study!”

And then he’s gone, and the three of us are left blinking at our coffee mugs.

“I’m really sorry,” Liam says. “I thought that you’d talked to him already. I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay. I probably should have told him.”

“So you’ve thought about your options after graduation?” Dad asks.

I can see the eagerness in his eyes. He’s asking about me now. This isn’t about Ethan anymore. He wants to know what I want to do.

“I’m going to get a degree in psychology,” I reply. For some reason, the statement comes out like an apology. “That’s the plan, I guess.”

“Oh.” He looks puzzled, as if I’d just declared a sudden interest in space travel. “I didn’t know you wanted to be a psychiatrist.”

“I don’t want to be a psychiatrist.” I have no idea why I said it. All I know is that it’s the first time anyone has asked me what I wanted to do. And for first time, the answer I’ve carried inside me for years doesn’t feel like the right one anymore.

“Okay,” Dad prompts me gently. “A psychologist then? School counselor?”

I look at Liam’s face, at my father’s eyes. “Maybe,” I reply softly. “That’s what I’m supposed to be good at.”

Liam shakes his head. “Supposed to be good at?”

“Because of Ethan,” I explain. “Mom’s always said that I have so much experience, that I was literally born to do this—”

“No one is born to do anything, Rain,” Dad says. “You should choose what excites you, not what you think you have to do. Would being a psychologist make you happy?”

The truth is that I don’t know. All of this was predetermined since the day I was born—the day we were born. I’ve been carrying Ethan for so long, pulling him along with me. He’d decided my future without saying a word. State school, morning classes, our afternoon run, carefully prepared dinners, therapy sessions, bed—repeat. The same, unvarying routine stretching far off into the future. But when did I decide to become a psychologist? Whose idea was that? Why had I started memorizing that giant psych manual? Who had chosen that for me? Had it not been me after all?

“I have no idea what I want,” I say. And it feels like a relief to say it.

Dad shrugs and breaks off a piece of cookie. “That’s good. Most people don’t.”

“I’m sorry I brought up the gap year idea,” Liam says again. “I didn’t know you were still thinking about it.”

“I was thinking about it,” I tell him earnestly. “I really was. I just didn’t know how to tell my brother.”

But why had I been thinking about it? Was I just trying to make Liam happy by going along with the idea? Or was I really trying to dream big?

What if all I want is the option to dream, but I’m too scared to make it happen? What if Ethan has always been an excuse to stay on the familiar path? To never take risks?

“Do you want me to go talk to him?” Liam asks.

“No, it’s okay. He needs to be alone right now. I’ll check on him later.”

I hate to admit it, but a small part of me is glad Ethan is upset. Not because I ever want him to be hurt—not for a second. But recently I’d been scared he wouldn’t react at all if I told him I was leaving. That he didn’t need me anymore. And that, for me, would have been worse than the loss of any dream.

After an awkward silence, my father declares that he’s tired. There’s a brief discussion about where he’s staying (Mom’s bed is out of the question) and we finally settle on Dad sleeping in my room, me in Mom’s, and Liam on the living room couch. Everyone’s clothes and toothbrushes are shuffled around, and my father bids us good night before shutting the door.

“I’m sorry,” Liam says when we’re alone. He flops down on the sofa next to me. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad that everything is finally out in the open.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, of course.” I smile to hide the quiver in my voice. “Ethan had to know that I’d be leaving him eventually. Maybe he was just in denial or something—”

“Was he the only one? In denial, I mean.”

Am I that easy to read? Liam’s dark eyes focus on mine, and I drop my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve always expected to—”

“One day go to a state school,” he interrupts. “And board at home. Next door to your brother. Take classes with him. And then what, Rain? Are you ever going to tell me your real plans? Or do I have to ask Hope?”

“Ask Hope?”

He sighs and rubs his hands over his temples. “We were chatting in the cafeteria a couple of days ago, when you weren’t in school. Hope told me that you’ve always planned your life around your brother.”

I sigh and look away from him. “What choice have I had? Ethan freaks out when I push off our running hour. Are you surprised I couldn’t tell him that I was thinking about moving halfway across the world?”

He takes my hand in his. “Maybe there are different sides of Ethan that want different things? Just like there are different parts of you. Your brother has autism, Rain. And even he tells his girlfriend about his dreams. While I seem to have absolutely no idea what you want, what you dream about.”

“But I’ve told you—”

“No, you haven’t. Not really. You told me that you want to study psychology. To study abroad. To leave Montana and go to college—”

“I never said I wanted to leave Montana.” I’m pretty sure I didn’t say that, anyway. But I’m so confused, I can’t remember. If he was kissing me, it’s possible that I promised to fly with him to the moon.

“Well, it was kind of implied, wasn’t it?” His voice rises. “I mean, the international program isn’t in Montana, right? And you told me that you wanted to go. Or was I just hearing what I wanted to hear?”

“I don’t know, okay?” I explode, throwing up my arms. “You were so excited about the idea, and I liked making you happy. But then my mom got sick and my Dad reappeared, and suddenly I don’t know who to listen to anymore. And now Ethan is changing. He’s the one person who isn’t supposed to change! So I don’t know what he needs anymore or where I need to be. I don’t know what anyone wants from me!”

“What do you want?” He asks me so softly that I don’t hear him at first. “Forget everyone else for a second. If you could do anything—go anywhere, what would you choose?”

I shake my head and close my eyes. “You’re looking for some kind of magic answer. You want me to ‘listen to my inner voice’ or some TV movie bullshit? Well, we’re not going to have that breakthrough moment, okay? I’m not suddenly going to fall into your arms and sob, Oh my God, I want to study in Paris! Thank you for showing me the way! I’m not that girl, Liam. You may be alone in the world, so all your dreams are yours. But my dreams—they’ve always been tangled up in other people’s lives. I am my brother’s lifeline. I can’t just abandon him.”

“You’re so used to being Ethan’s voice,” he points out, “that you’ve forgotten how to listen to your own.”

I cross my arms and pull away from him. “Look, I don’t want your pity, okay? And I don’t want to end up all alone, like…”

He flinches, and I pause, embarrassed. I had been about to say “like you,” but I’d stopped myself. Still, it isn’t hard for him to fill in the blank. “Like me?” he suggests.

I hadn’t meant it the way it sounded. It’s not his fault that his family abandoned him. “I know it wasn’t your choice,” I amend.

“I didn’t realize I was all alone,” he says. “I never thought of myself that way.”

“I know. It came out all wrong. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

He raises his eyes and meets mine head-on. “I’m not hurt. I’m trying to explain. I’ve always thought of myself as a kind of traveler. Like a person on a train. People on a morning commute don’t think of themselves as alone. They’re on their way somewhere, that’s all. And when they get there, someone will be waiting for them. Maybe a lot of people. I guess I’ve just been waiting for my train to arrive.”

I hesitate and drop my head. “Am I on that train with you?”

He gives me a look halfway between an appeal and an apology. “Yeah. You’re the girl that made me want to pull the emergency break. Hard.”

I’m briefly struck speechless. “Wow,” I breathe after a moment. “That was so poetic.”

He grins proudly. “I know, right? I just came up with that.”

“You should write greeting cards.”

“I should! Like maybe the front of the card would be a train hurtling through the countryside? And the inside would be a picture of a large cow stuck on the tracks. And the caption would read ‘You’re worth stopping for, baby.’”

My eyes narrow. “Wait, so now I’m a stranded cow?”

His lips twitch. “You’re the first one I’ve stopped for.”

I laugh and take his hands in mine. “Maybe you should quit while you’re ahead.”

“Maybe you should kiss me.” He shrugs. “Or I can just keep talking.”