Eli pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to make himself count to ten in his head before responding. He only made it to six.
“Ari. I don’t know how to break this to you, and I can tell it’s going to come as a tremendous shock. But nobody is inventing your problems. They’re real.”
“Oh, right,” Ari said sarcastically. “Of course. You’re the golden boy, and I’m the fuck-up. You’re Mr. Perfect, and I’m Calamity Jane. You’re the one who gets straight As, and I’m the one who sells Dad’s coin collection to pay off his gambling debts.”
“That actually happened!” Eli shouted.
“Yeah, and do you know why?” Ari asked. “Because you, and Mom, and Dad, all treated me like screwing up was all I could ever do.”
The hair on the back of Eli’s neck started to prickle. “Why are you telling me this now?” he asked.
For a moment, Ari didn’t answer. “I’ll give you the results. But I want you to tell Mom and Dad,” he said.
“What?” Eli blurted.
Ari had an unpleasantly smug look on his face. “I want you to tell them that you cheated on Annette while she was pregnant, and that you knocked up some other lady. I want them to know that you’re not as perfect as they think you are. And,” he concluded, eyes gleaming with malice, “I want you to do it at the wedding. Promise me you’ll do that and you get this.” He waved the Ziploc tauntingly in front of Eli.
“And what if I don’t?” Eli managed to ask.
Ari shrugged. “Then I take this home, and I flush the results down the toilet, and you figure it out yourself.”
Eli tried to count to ten again and kept himself from saying—from shouting—all of the things he wanted to say. Things like Fuck you and That’s never going to happen and I’d die first. In his mind, he grabbed Ari, roaring, and lifted his brother over his head and threw him into the pond. In reality, he sat very still, afraid to move, afraid to speak.
“Pick your poison,” Ari said softly.
Eli clenched his fists. “You’re going to therapy, right?” he asked. Before Ari could nod, Eli asked, “What does your therapist think of this scheme? Is she on board?”
Ari looked startled and hurt. Then he smirked. “Do you see what you’re doing here? You’re making me the problem. Again.”
“You are the problem! You’re blackmailing me. On the eve of my daughter’s wedding.”
Startled, Ari said, “It’s tomorrow?”
“I meant that figuratively,” Eli said, raking his hands through his hair. “Look. I’m not dismissing this whole identified patient thing. Maybe you’re right.” Eli did not, of course, think that Ari was right, but he could see his brother nodding, and could tell that Ari’s posture had relaxed. “You want things to be different, right?” Eli asked. “You want Mom and Dad to see us as both good and both bad, instead of me as all good and you as all bad.”
Ari was nodding more vigorously. “That’s it. That’s it exactly. I want a reset.” His eyes shone. “I think this family needs it.”
“Okay, then. Fine. I promise. I’ll tell them. I’ll tell them at the wedding. I’ll stand up, in front of everyone, only instead of making a speech congratulating the happy couple and welcoming Gabe to the family, I’ll say that I slept with his mother. Is that what you want?”
Ari nodded. “Yes,” he said. “that’s what I want.”
“Fine,” Eli snarled. He held out his hand. Ari shook it. Then he handed over the bag. Eli tore it open, unfolded the page, and sat there, motionless, paralyzed, feeling his world crashing down around him. DNA PATERNITY REPORT: INFORMATIONAL USE ONLY, read the heading. There were rows of numbers, lists of alleles collected, and, at the bottom, the result: 99.9999 percent positive for paternity.
Ari, reading over his shoulder, said, “Oh, my, oh my.”
Eli slumped against the bench. His jaw sagged. His hands fell open. The Ziploc bag dropped to the ground, disgorging the remainder of its contents: a small, plastic-wrapped blue toothbrush topped with the likeness of Grover from Sesame Street.
Eli stared down at the toothbrush. “Ari,” he said, after what felt like forever, “is that the toothbrush you took?”
Ari looked down. “Yup.”
“That’s not Gabe’s toothbrush. That’s Dexter’s.”
Ari stared at him. “What was Dexter’s toothbrush doing at Gabe and Ruby’s place?”