Alex was licking peanut butter from a spoon and dipping it back into the jar. I scowled at her because it was Jenny’s peanut butter and I was sure she wouldn’t be happy about what Alex was doing. But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to argue about something else. We’d already had words about the separation, and her failure to fill me in—she joked Mom had bribed her with a new lens before admitting she agreed with my parents—so adding one more log onto a raging fire probably wasn’t wise. “You know, I miss the days when you used to create a better version of the truth,” Alex said, her mouth thick with the peanut butter. “Whatever happened to that Lucy?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, scowling more deeply now. “And stop double-dipping. It’s disgusting.” I was irritable and my back hurt from sleeping on Jenny’s futon. Mom had also been calling incessantly, and when I wouldn’t answer (or respond to the emoji-filled texts she sent immediately after each call), she sent Alex to talk with me. And so here we were, in Jenny’s apartment while she was at work, eating peanut butter on Ritz crackers. But I didn’t want to talk about what had happened. Or what I’d done to ensure no matter how fiercely Matt loved me (or how much I’d loved him) there may no longer be a relationship to cling to. No us to fight for.
“You used to be all about the silver lining. Like, remember when we got to pet those baby sharks at that aquarium in Sarasota, and I refused because I thought it was so sad they were locked up in there and you told me they were probably happier because they didn’t have to fight for their food like they would in the wild?”
I frowned, remembering the smooth, rubbery feel of the shark’s skin but not my comment about their happiness.
“Or when your bike got stolen and you told Dad it was probably some kid who couldn’t afford a bike, so it was okay because they needed it more than you did?” I nodded, remembering that one. I’d known if I used that reasoning on dad he would buy me a new bike without too much fuss (he was a bit of a bleeding heart, my dad) and I would never have to admit I had left it unlocked, ripe for stealing.
“That’s not creating a better version of the truth,” I argued. “Silver linings go with the territory when you’re a kid. Besides, I’m sure someone else did get a lot of joy out of my bike.” It had been a great bike.
Alex nodded and licked her peanut-butter-coated lips. But she wasn’t done with me yet, had a point (Alex always had a point) to drill into me whether I wanted to hear it or not. “Then there was that time your bestie, Nancy McPherson, stole your date in eighth grade. Remember what you said then?”
I paused, thought back, rejoiced quietly for a moment about how clear and secure my memories were from my childhood. “That it had been my idea,” I said softly.
“Exactly,” Alex said, dipping her spoon in one more time. “Silver-lining-Lucy.”
But it hadn’t been my idea at all. I had said that because I was embarrassed and hurt by what had happened, especially considering Alex had warned me and I chose to ignore her.
Nancy McPherson and I met in second grade, on a playground close to my house, and after finding out we lived two blocks from one another, we begged our mothers for a playdate. We both loved the color green and wanted our own pet rabbit one day and thought Tiger Tail was the only ice cream flavor worth eating. In fifth grade we took a best friend blood oath (using one of my mom’s finger prickers for her blood sugar testing) and Nancy barely even flinched, impressing me to no end. We were inseparable, and I believed Nancy would be my best friend forever. Then came the eighth grade, and a boy named Jordan Riggle.
I liked Jordan, and based on what I was hearing from mutual friends, he liked me, too. Nancy and I had brainstormed what to do. Sure, I could ask him to the dance, but the middle school rumor mill said he was planning to ask me, and so why not wait? It will be epic, Nancy had said, her voice swoony. Being asked to the dance by Jordan Riggle! I had agreed (I always agreed with Nancy) and decided to wait for Jordan to ask me. Though when I had broached it with Alex, looking for the older sister perspective, she told me to “Buck up, princess, and ask him first.”
I had expected Alex to see things from Nancy’s point of view, because I idolized both of them and thought they were the smartest people I knew. So I had argued with Alex—it was traditional for the boy to ask the girl, like Nancy said—and Alex had snorted her disdain and told me that was ridiculous. “You’re going to regret giving Nancy McPherson so much power over you,” she had said.
In the end Alex was right, having always been better at reading people than I was. I came down with the flu and missed three days of school. But Nancy came by every day to drop off homework and fill me in on “Operation Dance”—she said she was sure Jordan would ask me when I was back. By Friday I was well enough to go to school, and it was then I heard rumblings Jordan and Nancy were going to the dance together. I wondered if my delirious flu fever had returned.
But I wasn’t sick, just a fool. Turned out Jordan asked Nancy if she thought I might go to the dance with him, and Nancy, my best friend for the past seven years, said I thought dances were stupid. So Jordan asked Nancy instead, and she said yes.
That was the day Nancy McPherson stopped being my best friend, and the moment I realized how horribly people could let you down and break your heart.
“You know, that dance fiasco might have been the last time you doctored the truth with your special brand of positivity,” Alex said, pointing her spoon at me. “Until Daniel.”
I sat up straighter at the mention of Daniel. “What do you mean?”
Alex shrugged. “Well, I could tell you weren’t a hundred percent in, even though you were going ahead with the wedding.”
Now I felt confused. “Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s the truth. It was little things, these small clues. Like, you wanted to keep Sparks as your last name.”
“But you didn’t want me to change my last name. You told me that!” I sputtered, then added, “Hang on. I did change my name, so it’s a moot point.”
Alex’s tone was direct, but not unkind. “No, you didn’t, sweets. You didn’t end up getting married, remember?”
“Of course I remember,” I grumbled, then almost laughed at how ridiculous a statement that was. I had gaps in my memory from this time of my life, and some of what I did remember was a fabricated version of reality. “You know what I meant. So what else? Why would you think I didn’t want to marry Daniel? Did I tell you that?”
She shrugged. “Not in so many words. In the beginning you seemed happy. But the closer you got to the wedding, the less you talked about it. About him.” She licked a drip of peanut butter off her thumb. “And you’re not exactly the type to go mute on something when you’re excited. You used to drive me crazy as a kid because you never shut up when things were going your way.” She smiled, but I found I couldn’t return it.
I didn’t talk about the wedding? Everything slowed down then. I wound back her previous words: In the beginning you seemed happy. But the closer you got to the wedding, the less you talked about it. About him. I took a deep breath and asked, “Alex, do you know what happened between me and Daniel?”
She stared at me for a moment. “I have an idea.”
I was prepared to respond with “Oh, it’s okay. No one else seems to know, either, especially me!” but then her words hit me.
“What do you know? Why haven’t you said anything? Have you known this whole time what happened? Tell me. What do you know?”
She spread peanut butter on a cracker with the back of her spoon and held it out to me. I shook my head and she shrugged, bit it in half and chewed before saying, “I know Daniel London was an asshole.”
Now I stared at her and waited for her to explain. She didn’t. “Oh, give me a break, Alex.” I tried to imagine it—thought back to everything I remembered about Daniel, how it had felt to see him recently. That kiss... I shook my head. “He isn’t. He wasn’t.”
“I assure you, Lucy, he was. And probably still is.” She dropped the spoon into the peanut butter jar, smacked her lips. “Hell, he was engaged, nearly married, when you met him, right? So I would say Daniel London is someone who always has one foot out the door, know what I mean?”
“No, I do not know what you mean.”
Alex sighed and brushed a few cracker crumbs from her sweater. “The night of your engagement party I got there early. To ‘oversee’ things,” she said, using air quotes, sounding like our mother, “because Mom was helping you get ready—you had a cast on your arm, but you probably don’t remember that—and she was worried about the catering.” I tried to control the small shake overtaking my body, afraid of what Alex was going to tell me but also afraid whatever it was wouldn’t answer all my questions. “Daniel was already there, and he was at the bar, drinking and talking up a very attractive bartender.”
“And so what?” Daniel had been flirting with the bartender. Big deal. It didn’t explain anything.
“And so I confronted him—they were supercozy, Lucy, like inappropriately so. He had his hand on her arm. Left it there too long.” Alex gave me a pointed look. “I cornered him and asked what he thought he was doing, being all flirty-flirty with the help, and he laughed. Said, ‘Alex, calm down. I’m not married yet.’ And then he winked at me and walked away.”
I felt like I’d been turned inside out, but I also struggled to imagine the scenario she was describing. It sounded like an entirely different Daniel from the one I knew. And suddenly I was furious with Alex for only telling me this now. For tarnishing a memory I thought I could count on. “What the hell, Alex? Why now? Why didn’t you tell me that night?” My cheeks flushed with frustration, and I let my anger toward everything—everyone—seep out at my sister. She took it without complaint, her voice calm.
“I did, Lucy. You just don’t remember.”
“Oh.” The fight inside of me extinguished. “What did I say?”
“You were drunk—we all were—and we were up on the roof, polishing off a very expensive bottle of booze courtesy of Mr. and Mrs. London. I pulled you aside before we went back down to the party, told you I was worried about Daniel. That he’d been a bit too ‘friendly’ with the pretty brunette bartender earlier. A bit too handsy for someone about to get married to someone else. But you said Daniel would never do anything like that. Accused me of being jealous and suggested I should worry about my own ‘nonexistent’ love life. I think you even called me pathetic.” Alex laughed, and I cringed. Strange how I remembered the night of our engagement party, and being up on the roof, but had conveniently blanked out on this particular detail.
“Sorry. I’m sure I didn’t mean it. I was drunk, right?”
“Oh, you meant it, little sister. But it was fine, didn’t bother me.” I envied Alex’s confidence, her ability to trust herself so completely. She had always been self-assured and cool, and I wished I could be more like her, especially these days.
“But why wait until now to tell me?”
“You weren’t ready to hear it before.”
I let out an exasperated groan. Her revelation didn’t fully explain things but certainly planted some doubt in between my memories and feelings about Daniel. I wasn’t in the mood to play games.
She held my gaze, repeated it again, slower this time. “You weren’t ready to hear it.”
“And what makes me ready now?” I threw my hands up in the air.
“You asked.” I wanted to throttle her.
“I asked you before, Alex.”
“No, you didn’t. You asked if I knew why you broke up, specifically. And I don’t. As far as I know you didn’t talk about it, with anyone. Besides, it was a couple of months after the engagement party, so it probably had nothing to do with the bartender.”
It seemed I was the only person who knew exactly what happened (aside from Daniel, of course), and there was a good chance I would never remember it.
“Hey, don’t go dark on me now,” Alex said, taking in my expression. “Silver linings, okay? If things hadn’t gone south with Daniel, you never would have met Matt. And Matt is a good one, Lucy.”
But I wasn’t interested—yet—in seeing the positives here. Plus, it cut deep, thinking about Matt. What did any of it matter if I couldn’t remember our relationship? “Well, silver linings are overrated,” I grumbled. “Nancy McPherson taught me that valuable lesson.”
“I think she taught you to never take bad advice,” Alex said, a smirk on her face. “She was a piece of work. I never liked her.”
“It’s always a risk to fully trust another person.” I spoke quietly, mostly to myself.
“That’s depressing,” Alex said in response. Then she screwed the lid back on the peanut butter. “Also, not true.”
“Yes, it is! Think about it. Nancy. Daniel. Mom and Dad. Even Jenny and Matt.” I enumerated them on my fingers. I tried not to get defensive and wondered when silver-lining-Lucy had disappeared. Maybe it was when Nancy McPherson stabbed me in the back and went to the dance with the boy I liked. Maybe I could blame Daniel, and whatever happened to end our engagement. I wished I knew, because maybe then I could figure out how to get that Lucy we all used to know back. “Seems everyone has let me down, especially recently.”
“Oh, really?” Her sarcastic tone was hard to miss. “How so, Princess Lucy?” I hated it when she called me that—it had been a common nickname when we were kids, Alex often suggesting my parents treated me like the “baby” I was. In fairness to her, it had been true my parents focused more on my good behavior and more on Alex’s rebellions, so I supposed things had been somewhat unbalanced. But even if I was seven years younger than her, we were adults now, and her pulling out this particular childhood jab incensed me.
“By keeping me in the dark about everything I can’t remember!” I knew it was safe for me to lash out at Alex, and so I was going to let it come. “Can I trust Mom and Dad to tell me the truth? Do I believe Jenny when she says she has no idea why I broke up with Daniel? I mean, she’s my best friend. I didn’t tell her anything? And what about Matt? He’s been holding stuff back right along with everyone else. Do you all have my best interests in mind? Because being lied to sucks, Alex. All I can count on is the truth, and you guys seem determined to keep even the smallest scraps from me.”
“Hang on a second, killer,” Alex said. “Now you’re creating a worse version of reality.” I glowered but didn’t respond. She got up and put the peanut butter back in the cupboard, grabbing an apple from the fridge. “Want one?” I shook my head, and she came back to sit with me, polishing the apple against her thigh.
“Look, sweets. This blows, okay? No one would argue you got a crap deal here. But you know what I’ve been seeing? People going out of their way to accommodate you, and trying to make this better somehow for you. Mom and Dad keeping up this ridiculous ‘we’re still together and in love’ ruse so you don’t have to deal with the shittiness of going through their breakup. Again. Jenny has literally been sick with guilt about not giving you the exact lay of the land. And Matt, well, Lucy, Matt has been a mess.”
“A mess?” I asked, feeling an uncomfortable heaviness spreading across my chest.
“Did you know he’s been going to therapy, too? Or that he’s lost, like, fifteen pounds because he’s been so stressed about what’s happened? Or that he’s probably been pushed off partner track for the next year or two because of all the time off? Or that he’s spent hours over at Mom and Dad’s trying to figure out ways to jog your memory? All those photo albums? Matt put those together. In his ‘spare’ time, which with work and worrying about you has meant he’s barely slept and, if you ask me, is holding his own life together by a thread.”
She set the apple down beside her and took my hands in hers. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty, so stop it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” I was close to tears but nodded. “What I’m saying, Lucy, is this has never been just about you. Yeah, you’re the one who slipped and hit her head and ended up with a memory like those moth-chewed dress-up clothes from Grammy’s attic, but you aren’t the only one suffering because of it. You’re wrong if you think you can’t trust us. Dead wrong.”
I was quiet for a moment and Alex, satisfied to have said her piece, let go of my hands and bit into the apple. She chewed, watching me thoughtfully as she did. What Alex had said hit me hard. I had taken for granted how much they all loved me, how much my accident had changed them, too. You are only as strong as your weakest link. And I was the weak link, but not because of what I could or couldn’t remember—because I had been pushing everyone away, unwilling to accept the help I desperately needed and insisting the problem was mine (and mine alone) to solve.
“I wish I didn’t have to question everything,” I finally said, my voice thick and shaky. I sniffled, wiped my nose with my sleeve. “I also wish I’d been wearing my winter boots and had ordered Matt’s tie online. And that I hadn’t hit my head in the first place.”
“Me, too, Luce,” Alex replied, then she laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“All your wishing reminded me of when you were little, and every time you made a wish—whether it was on the first star you saw at night or from blowing away dandelion fluff or a birthday candle—you used to screw your eyes shut and say, ‘I wish for chocolate cake!’”
“I miss silver-lining-Lucy,” I said, resting my head on her shoulder.
“So do I,” Alex said, leaning her head against mine. “She’s a hell of a lot more fun.”
“Hey,” I said, smacking her arm in protest.
Alex put her arm around me and squeezed. “Don’t worry. She’s still in there.”