I didn’t do any of the stuffing or flushing, but I was with Liza, so I was part of things, even if it was at a distance. I felt swept up in their laughter and danger.
“How about it, Emory? You feel like dancing?” Daniel nudges me with his elbow.
I can feel Liza watching us carefully.
“I can’t,” I say. “I have to hang out with my brother. He’s in recovery, you know?” It feels a little weird, saying it out loud.
“Bring him,” Daniel says.
“You should go,” Jeremy says to me. “You don’t have to watch out for him. He needs to watch out for himself.”
“I know,” I say, “but he’s pretty lonely right now and it doesn’t feel right to—”
Liza interrupts me. “Jeremy’s right. You can’t put your life on hold for somebody else, you know? Sometimes you just have to do what you have to do to make yourself happy. And if you’re not, like, solid with yourself, how can you help somebody else?”
When I look at her, she busies herself folding her wax paper into a small, smooth square.
“I’ll even drive. I’ll pick everybody up. How’s that?” Daniel says.
“I’m in,” Liza says.
“Me too,” Jeremy says.
They all look at me.
“I’ll think about it,” I say.
Liza changes the subject. “So, Daniel. What are you reading for Watson’s class now? Something suitably white-boy intellectual? Infinite Jest? Cloud Atlas?”
“Actually,” Daniel says, “I was thinking of doing Charlotte’s Web.”
Liza and I burst out laughing at the same time, which feels…surprising and nice.
“I can’t help it.” Daniel shrugs. “I just really like that tender little pig.”
* * *
—
Simon Stanley is walking around the stage, writing down what everyone will do for the variety show.
Jeremy says, “You should go to the dance. Joe has to take care of himself. You shouldn’t feel like you can’t have a life, you know?”
“But I do have to take care of him,” I say. “He’s my brother. You get that, right? I feel protective. I don’t want him to relapse.”
Jeremy looks at his shoes. “You wouldn’t be using him as a shield, would you? I mean, so you don’t have to do things?”
Simon Stanley appears before us. “Jeremy, you’re off the hook since you’re a third-year and have done it before, unless you’re dying to again. Otherwise, we can use you on sets.”
“Sets,” Jeremy says.
“Emory?”
“I really don’t want to,” I say hesitantly. “I’m just not comfortable doing that sort of thing.” I’ve already put myself in front of people during two years of dance team. That was enough public exposure for a lifetime. And what I did with Gage in the window, that was still private, just the two of us. This…would be just me, alone, on a wide stage, staring back at many, many people. Just the thought makes my stomach tighten.
Simon tucks his yellow legal pad under his arm. “You’ve been doing a lovely job during our exercises, Emory. You could choose something short, like one of Ophelia’s monologues from Hamlet. You might surprise yourself.”
“I don’t know.”
“Here.” He passes me a packet of monologues. “Take a look, let me know your thoughts. I really do think you’d be wonderful. And…”
He looks around the stage. He waves Liza over.
She ambles over to us, hands in the pockets of her overalls.
“Liza,” he says. “You are now Emory’s partner in crime. Emory is feeling nervous and shy about performing in the fall variety show and you’ve been doing this for two years. I want you to be her person.”
“Excuse me?” Liza asks.
“No, really, that’s okay,” I say quickly. “I can do it myself.”
“Her person,” Simon Stanley repeats. “She needs to choose a monologue. You can help her. And she’ll need some coaching and practice. You’re very good at this. You helped Thad so much last year.”
Liza and I look at each other.
“If I must,” she says.
“Well, don’t put yourself out or anything,” I say tersely.
“Perfect!” Simon Stanley claps his hands, ignoring our snark.
Liza pulls her phone from the back pocket of her overalls. “Give me your number. We might need to get together outside of school.”
“It’s the same,” I tell her. “It never changed.”
“Ah,” she answers. “Like so many things.”
* * *
—
I wait for Joey in the hallway outside the library until he’s done with his tutoring session. When he and Amber come out, they’re all smiles. She gives him a little wave goodbye before heading down the hallway.
“Did you tell her you’re in recovery yet?” I ask.
“No. You don’t have to be so pushy. She’s really nice.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I’m just looking out for you.”
“Well, you don’t have to look out so hard.” He sighs. “Dad texted. He wants us to stop and see Nana on the way home. She’s back from Aunt Dory’s and I don’t have work or outpatient today.”
“That actually means he wants us to rake Nana’s leaves, you know.”
“I know.” He smiles. “I miss her.”
“Me too, but she’s going to yell at you,” I warn him.
“I know,” he sighs.
* * *
—
Our nana is sitting in her small yard on a lawn chair, a blanket on her lap and a cup of coffee in her hands.
She starts to put the coffee down on the leaves and stand when she sees us coming up her walk, but Joey waves her down. “Don’t get up,” he says. “Here I am.”
He leans over and gives her a big hug.
“Joseph,” she says, beaming. “I’ve missed my handsome boy.”
Then she slaps his head.
“Ow,” he says, rubbing his ear. “Nana!”
“That’s for being a stupid boy. I trust you’re done with all this…whatever it is. It’s done, yes?”
“Nana,” I say. “It’s kind of a long process.”
“You be quiet. Am I talking to you? No, not yet. I might have words for you later, but right now all my words are for Joseph.”
Our nana is not mean. She’s just blunt. Joey kicks some leaves.
“I’m working on it.”
“The young should not die before the old,” she says. “How dare you waste a life you haven’t even lived yet.”
She sips her coffee.
“So, stop being stupid, Joseph.”
“Wow, Nana, you really know how to greet a guy.”
She gives a hard nod. “I love you. Now go get the rake in the shed and do something about this yard while I talk to your sister.”
She looks me up and down. “Sit.”
I look at the ground, thick with leaves, and think of my knee. “Maybe not right now. My leg. Remember? It’s hard to bend that way right now.”
“Of course I remember. I’m not addled. Do you think I’m addled? I think your father thinks I’m addled.”