Everything stops. Like in movies, when the guy sees the girl of his dreams for the first time and the whole world blurs out of view until it’s just her. Only this is the kind of universe pause that makes your stomach hurt because you know from this point forward that nothing will ever be the same again. The rumble of passing cars fades, the sound of my own breath catches in my throat—everything stops as the three of us stand stunned into silence while we stare at this guy in front of us. He’s changed about as much as a person can change. There are tattoos on his arms and muscles in places that used to be shrimpy and weak. The old Thomas was kind of a nerd, but this one looks like he fights in the UFC just for fun.
Cece breaks first. “Thomas?”
He nods so slightly I almost miss it. His eyes, so blue they’re almost clear, fill with tears. Cece crashes into him, burying her face in his massive chest. He stands there a second, frozen in place, his eyes watching the sky. And then he folds around her, hugging her tightly.
The sight of them makes my chest split in half. I exhale and stars fill my vision. I glance at Ezra, chills flooding across my skin. He looks like he’s seen a ghost.
I guess we all just did.
Cece sobs into her brother’s chest. Loud, angry, ugly tears. I want to comfort her, but I also want them to have time together. Of all of us, she’s lost the most here. Her parents, and then her bother. Thomas’s eyes stay closed as they rock back and forth hugging exactly like you’d expect people to hug after one of them has risen from the grave.
After a while, Cece pulls back, her shoulders bobbing as she cries. “Thomas,” she says again, this time more resolute. “I knew you weren’t dead.”
He gazes at her, his lips pulling up in a smile. Cece’s fist rears back, and she clocks him right in the jaw, the sound of her knuckles on his flesh so loud it makes me jump. I cover my mouth.
“You fucking asshole,” she cries out, but there’s no heart behind her words.
Dazed, Thomas touches his cheek. “I deserve that,” he says with a painful chuckle.
“What the hell?” Cece says, backing up a few steps. She looks around wildly until her eyes meet mine, then she settles into place beside me. I feel weirdly protective of her; standing as straight as possible by her side. I know in this moment that whatever Cece needs, I’ll be there. If she wants to leave, we’ll go with no questions asked. If she wants to punch him again, hell I’ll help her kick his ass.
Thomas sighs, rubbing his jaw, which is now as red as his eyes. “Lilah.” The expression he makes isn’t really a smile. “Ezra, wow, man. You all grew up so much.”
“And you’re not dead,” Cece says.
Thomas glances around. “We can’t talk here,” he says, bending a little at the knees. “Let’s go for a drive. I’ll—I’ll explain it all.”
“Only if you want to,” I tell Cece.
Her jaw hardens while she thinks it over. “Let’s go.”
It’s surreal when Ezra pulls up the front seat and helps me climb into the back of the Jeep. I settle into the black leather seat, snapping the seat belt in place across my chest. This is the Jeep. The very thing we’ve been chasing all week.
Ezra sits next to me and Cece gets in the passenger seat. It’s jarring watching this grown-up version of my cousin as he slips a pair of Oakleys over his eyes and cranks the engine. The air conditioning pushes the scent of his coconut air fresher around the surprisingly clean interior of his car. He did always want a Jeep; I guess it makes sense that he’d keep it in perfect condition.
I want to ask why he’s made himself so remarkably huge when athletics and working out were never on his list of favorite things when we were kids. And the hair, too. I mean who does that anymore? Bleached hair kind of went out of style a while ago. I want to ask him a lot of things, like why he’s pretending to be someone else, why he claims he has no sister and no family, but I don’t say any of it.
There’s no radio in the Jeep, just a hole in the dash where one used to be. No one talks as Thomas leaves the parking lot, turning onto a back road behind a nearby grocery store. I think perhaps there are too many things to say, and no one knows where to start. I watch Cece while we drive. She’s watching her brother, but her expression is hard to pinpoint. It’s easy to want someone to be alive, but hard when you realize they are. I think we all feel betrayed in the worst way.
I study her a while, and decide that she’s probably feeling a little pissed off mixed with a whole lot of vindication. She was right, after all. She was totally right.
It’s a short drive. Thomas pulls into a small park with a rundown baseball field that can’t possibly be regulation size because it’s so small. The chain-link fence around the bases is covered in overgrown vines and moss. There’s no one here, and the perimeter of the park is dotted with pine trees.
“There’s some picnic tables over there,” Thomas says. “We can sit and talk.”
My phone rings, the high-pitched melody filling the cab and making everyone look at me. I take my phone out of my back pocket, wishing I’d silenced it before we started this awkward drive.
“It’s Mom.”
Cece flinches, all the blood draining from her face. Thomas meets my gaze. He doesn’t say anything, but the way he stares at me, his intentions are made clear. Don’t tell her.
My heart pounds as I say hello.
“Hey, sweetie,” Mom says. In this tiny vehicle, I’m afraid everyone can hear her talking no matter how hard I press the phone to my ear. More than ever, I pray that she won’t mention Cece’s bipolar disorder.
“What’s up?” I say, simultaneously holding back vomit of nervous proportions.
“Oh, just dying to get home,” Mom says with a sigh. “These conferences get boring after a while.” In the background, I hear Dad tell her to tell us hello. “Your father says hi. Tell Cece we miss her, too.”
“Will do,” I say quickly. “Well, bye!”
“Wait,” Mom says. “How are things at home?”
How would I know?
“Um, they’re good. Boring, too.” Then, because I can feel Thomas staring a hole into my head, I add, “You’re not missing anything.”
“Except for all of my shows!” she says with a laugh. “Can’t wait to get back to my DVR.”
I chuckle too, like this is actually funny. Like I don’t have three people watching my every move as if one wrong word will make us all burst into flames and destroy the entire planet.
Two deep breaths after the call is over, the feeling comes back to my face. Everyone is still looking at me. I shove my phone in my pocket, checking twice to make sure the call has really ended. “Why am I being started at, guys? I’m not the one on trial here.”
On the dirty picnic table, I sit next to Ezra. Cece slides in beside me, leaving Thomas by himself on the other side. His hair is still half wet, and it makes me wonder what his girlfriend said to him to make him rush outside so fast. And why he didn’t let her come, too.
Cece’s hands slide under her knees. She leans forward slightly. “Talk,” she says.
“I am,” he croaks, running a hand through his hair, then dragging it down his face. “I’m trying to figure out where to begin.”
“The day you left,” she says. “The reason you didn’t come back. Why you’re still alive, you bastard.”
“I’d like to know why your hair is so ugly,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. My attempt at humor fails spectacularly when no one even acknowledges that I’ve spoken. I look over at Ezra, but he’s watching Thomas. His jaw is set, his gaze unwavering. I realize these two have been betrayed more by Thomas than I have. I was just the cousin, not the sister or best friend. They want explanations and they won’t make any light-hearted jokes until they get them.
Thomas rests his elbows on the picnic bench, then steeples his fingers together in front of his lips. “I guess I’ll start at the beginning,” he says, his voice strained.
“Did you really get shot on that bridge?” Cece asks.
Thomas’s lips press together as he stares at a pocket knife carving on the tabletop. Jay luvz Jen. “I meant the real beginning,” he says, his voice low. “Years before that day.”
He looks up at Cece and the regret is painted so plainly on his face, but she’s not budging. She’s staring at him like he’s scum. I can’t say I blame her, but I also feel bad for Thomas.
“My name isn’t Thomas,” he says.
I stiffen. He’s changed a lot over the years, but this man is most definitely the same kid I grew up with, not just some look-alike with muscles and terrible hair. It’s him. I know it like I know the back of my own hand. Cece tilts her head. Thomas swallows.
“My name is Joseph Louis the third. And I’m not your brother.”