Page 4 of Into the Deep Blue

At some unholy hour of the morning, a car horn blares from the driveway. Max must be behind it. There’s no way my sister would ever announce her arrival. Her preferred way to get into this house has always been in secret—under the cover of night, through the basement window, or after everyone had left for work.

Fiona crawls over me on her way out of bed, purposely kneeing me in the side to wake me up, because she thinks I’m sleeping.

I’m not, but I don’t want to move either. She leans over my desk and looks out the window.

“They’re here,”

she mumbles, now checking her texts. Probably to see if Zombie Bob ever texted her back.

I bury my face in my pillow. Asking Fi to stay over suddenly seems like a huge mistake. Now she’ll have a frontrow seat to whatever craziness comes out of Alex’s mouth. I throw off the covers and get up, hating my sister more by the second for a) making me freeze my balls off at the crack of dawn, b) making me deal with Mom’s shit in the basement, and c) making me feel like a shitty uncle for not seeing Max more often—which comes with the bonus title of shitty brother.

Fiona’s at the window, and I lean over her to bang my fist against it. Alex darts her head around, not knowing where the sound came from, which irritates me even more. The only upside is every second it takes for them to look up, is another I get to stand pressed against Fiona this way. Max finally spots me. He points at us, and I wave.

“This is going to be such a shit show,”

I say, heading for the door.

“It’ll be fine,”

Fiona says, but she sounds unsure.

She picks up one of my black hoodies from the floor, shrugs into it and grabs her jeans, heading for the bathroom. She catches up to me downstairs, and we head outside to meet them.

Alex is wearing a tank top covered in fringe and isn’t the least bit affected by the morning chill. She’s one of those eternally warm people. She even wears shorts in the winter.

The sight of Max instantly melts all of my bitterness away.

“Yo! Little dude! Holy shit, look at you!”

“Uncle !”

He runs into my arms, and I swoop him into the air. It looks like the happiest family reunion ever. Except my heart is heavy with the weight of everything wrong with this. The guilt for not seeing him in two months, plus flashes of Alex moving out when he was two. There’s so much more to coming home than hugs and hellos.

So. Much. More.

“You’re so big! What are you, like twenty now?”

Max giggles. He lost another tooth, and it crushes me a little.

“No! I’m eight!”

Alex was seventeen when she had him. People always think she’s his sister.

“Max, bring your stuff inside please,”

Alex calls out in a tone straight out of Mom’s playbook.

I put him down, rustling his hair. He peeks out from behind me and gives Fi a shy wave.

“Hi, Fiona.”

Fi waves back.

“Hey, Max.”

“Go up to my room, you might find something in my closet.”

I wink at him, and his face brightens. It’s kind of our tradition. Every time he comes over, I hide a small Lego set in my room for him. He runs past us and dashes up the porch stairs.

“Max!”

Alex calls after him in defeat.

“You didn’t take your stuff.”

But who cares? He’s a kid. Let him be a kid.

“I got it,” I say.

Alex narrows her eyes at me like I’ve seriously undermined her. I don’t know if it’s me, or being home, but it’s like the sunshine she reserves for everyone else evaporates right in front of me.

“You don’t have to buy him something every time,” she says.

I pull Max’s backpack from the backseat.

“I want to. I barely see him.”

“And whose fault is that? You could come up anytime, .”

There it is. Guilt trip number one.

“With what?”

She leans in for a quick hug.

“You get around when you want.”

“So do you, and you didn’t even come to my grad.”

Two can play that game. I sling the pack over my shoulder and head for the house.

“Come on! We FaceTimed with you.”

She doubles back to the car to grab her phone.

“It’s a three-hour round trip. Max had soccer, and you know I can’t stay here. And you said it was okay.”

What else was I supposed to say? It sucked being stuck with Dad, but that’s clearly the theme of the year, and besides, I know how Max gets carsick. I just want this conversation to end, so I don’t reply.

Alex gives Fi a tired smile.

“Hey, Fiona. Thought we might see you here.”

Fiona’s hands are buried in the sleeves of my hoodie. She’s met Alex twice before, and I think she’s a little afraid of her. She smiles in that uncomfortably big kind of way.

“Thought you might need a hand.”

Everyone knows it’s bullshit. She’s a buffer, but we’re all really good at pretending.

“That’s so nice of you. I’m surprised hasn’t scared you away yet.”

“Shut up,”

I say, climbing the porch stairs.

Alex ignores me, walking beside Fi.

“We moved in with my partner, Casey, last week, and the place is pretty empty. I’m hoping to find a few things here.”

I turn back.

“Nice of him to come and help.”

“Actually, she is working today,”

Alex says matter-of-factly.

“Casey’s an English TA at PSU,”

she explains to Fi in a much nicer tone.

“Oh, that’s so cool,”

Fiona says.

There’s a bottomless rabbit hole of a conversation here, and I should walk away, but I can’t help myself. “She?”

Alex scrunches up her face. “Grow up.”

She pushes past me, making her way inside.

It’s a ballsy thing to say from someone who doesn’t understand the concept.

“This is classic Alex.”

I follow her in, dropping Max’s backpack on the living room floor.

Alex squints at me.

“Classic Alex?”

“Running away in high school, the affair with that one married guy after you moved out—”

“Moved out?”

She interrupts.

“Is that how you remember it?”

I face her, instantly feeling guilty. “No.”

I don’t know why I always phrase it that way. Maybe because that’s how it was always phrased to me by Mom and Dad: Alex and Max are moving out, . It’s for the best. But no, Dad spearheaded the movement to kick her out, and the reality of that is so awful, I try not to think about it.

“But, come on. You always do these impulsive things. What about Max?”

She steps closer to me, and I can practically feel her hands around my neck.

“What about Max?”

Fiona slides to my side and claps a hand on my shoulder.

“I think it’s great. I mean, it sounds like you’re happy.”

She shakes me a little like my bad attitude will slide from my bones and clatter to the floor.

“Thank you, Fiona. See?”

Alex says, opening the kitchen window.

“That’s all you had to say.”

My eyes grow wide, because I can’t believe she’s not getting it.

“I don’t care who you date, but you don’t think things through. And don’t you think it’s irresponsible to be dragging Max through this revolving door of people?”

“Are you seriously lecturing me on responsibility right now?”

I’ll admit, my track record isn’t great, but hers is off the charts.

She hauls Max’s backpack onto the table and pulls out a mini box of Cheerios and a graphic novel.

“Casey’s amazing and the best thing that’s ever happened to us, and if you bothered to come up, you would see that. I finally have some support. Be happy for me. You have no idea how hard it is raising a kid. You play the hero for an hour. You’re not cleaning up vomit at two in the morning.”

“Hey, I didn’t make those choices. You did.”

Crickets. Mission accomplished. That hurt her. She shoots bullets of disappointment my way, and I absorb every hit. Why is it so important to me to hurt her this way? Why do I have to win? I just can’t crush this hostility inside of me every time I see her. You had it all, it screams. Two parents. The best of them.

Their journey through the sea was getting rocky by the time I climbed aboard, and Alex just made it worse. She was a live wire on our soggy ship, and she singlehandedly fried it.

Fiona tugs at my arm.

“Let’s make some coffee. It’s early, everyone’s still tired.”

She’s trying to fill the silence, but nobody moves.

“Does Dad know about Casey?”

“No. It’s not like it’s a secret, we just don’t . . . ”

“Yeah.”

“And could you not mention we were here today?”

She didn’t even have to ask. I’m not team Alex by any means, but team Dad doesn’t even exist.

“I’ll be sure not to bring it up during our nightly heart-to-heart.”

She goes quiet, which is never a good sign.

“We need to talk about the lawsuit.”

My chest tightens, and it feels like the room plunges into darkness. I knew it was coming, and this is why I didn’t want to be alone with her.

“You’ve been here seven minutes, Alex. You’re killing me.”

“Did you write a victim’s statement?”

“No.”

“ . . . ”

Fiona bails—like, completely. She’s off in the corner making coffee, and when I try to get her attention, she fully turns the other way.

“I told you, I don’t give a shit about your lawsuit.”

“Our lawsuit. The lawyer thinks an emotional letter will carry so much weight in court. We’re talking about a life-changing settlement. And this is what you do. This is your thing.”

She shakes her fists as if she’s giving me some epic motivational speech before I go off to battle.

“No, this is your thing.”

The lawsuit was Alex’s idea. Dad wanted no part of it. He thought it would be a bad look for his business and didn’t think it was worth the time, but she went ahead with it, putting it in both of our names.

“Come on, . You’re the writer. You’re good at this. Think about Max.”

It’s the lowest of blows, using my feelings for Max this way. Before I can say another word, he flies down the stairs, shaking a box of Lego.

“Mom, look!”

“Wow!”

Alex tries her best to sound excited. We all act like we were talking about happy little clouds down here.

“That’s so cool! Let me see!”

She helps him crack open the box.

Fiona comes up beside me and touches my arm.

“Do I need to take away any metaphorical car keys?”

I puff out my cheeks and let the air escape with a quiet sigh.

“Honestly?”

Her eyes meet mine. “Always.”

It’s funny how you do something a few times, and it turns into a whole thing. I try to remember which one of us first sai.

“honestly,”

and who replied with the “always,”

but it’s a blurry history.

I dig into my pocket, turn her hand over in mine and drop a set of imaginary keys into her palm.

Max tears open a Lego bag and pieces spray across the floor. “Mom!”

he wails, his eyes filling with oversized animé tears. Alex rubs her eyes. She looks so tired.

“Maybe Uncle can help you with that,”

she says, rinsing her hands of this.

“Of course, I will. I mean, if you want.”

“Yeah!”

Max cheers.

We crawl under the harvest kitchen table together, gathering all three hundred and forty-four pieces.

I should have bought a smaller set.

Alex watches us, with her arms crossed, in a zoned-out way as if our conversation is still going on in her head. Part of me wants to hug her. Tell her I’m sad too, tell her I don’t want things to be this way, but I just can’t do it.

“So, where is everything?” she asks.

“It’s downstairs.”

Fiona answers for me.

“We packed up most of it a few months ago. I can go down with you.”

It comes out as more of a question.

The next thing I know, they’re heading for the basement door.

I close my eyes. She’s only been here for a few minutes, and I’m already so relieved she’s gone. With my hands full of Lego bricks, I crawl out from under the table and dump the pieces on top.

“Were you hiding under the table, Uncle ?”

Max asks with a giggle.

“No,”

I say, but the kid’s smiling like he sees right through me.

After I help sort the pieces by shape, Max shoos me away. He wants to do the rest himself, so I ruffle his hair and head for the basement.

The rec room is a wasteland with our sagging green velour couch, stains on the carpet, and cobwebs in every corner. The culmination of a million parties left to fossilize on the floor. After Mom died, the parties stopped, my so-called-friends disappeared, and the room started to decay. The upside was that my grades improved—dramatically.

“So, what’s the deal with you two?”

Alex’s foggy voice carries from the storage room.

Instead of bursting through the door and interrupting like I should, I lean against the wall and listen.

“No deal,”

Fiona answers.

“Fiona, you’re wearing his clothes, sleeping over—there’s obviously something going on.”

It’s so skeezy to be eavesdropping like this, but I want to hear her answer. Except, she doesn’t give one, and Alex doesn’t wait.

“Can you talk to him about writing a victim’s statement?”

That’s when I pop around the corner and kill the conversation dead.

“You decide what you want?”

I ask Alex. Fiona gives me a desperate don’t-leave-me stare.

“Yeah, let’s start with a few of these bigger pieces, and I’ll take whatever boxes I have room for.”

“Great. Let’s do this,”

I say, clapping my hands together.

Alex plucks a lamp from the shelf and carries it out of the room. I grab two curved antique plant stands and pause in front of Fi.

“You okay?”

She looks a little rattled. A few minutes with my sister can do that to a person. “Yeah.”

But when I reach the stairs, I glance back and see her head fall against the wall.

***

We fill Alex’s car to the brim. The only free spots are Max’s seat and hers, yet she’s trying to figure out how to squeeze in even more.

“It’s not going to happen, Alex. You’ll have to make another trip.”

Max tosses me his new Lego Batman, and I toss it back to him.

We both know it won’t happen any time soon.

She closes the trunk.

“You sure you don’t want any of this stuff?”

“What am I going to do with it?”

“Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where it is.”

“At Casey’s,”

I say with a grin.

“At our place,”

she corrects.

“Where you’re always welcome. I don’t want you to think I’m taking your share or anything. Nana’s shitty dishes are every bit yours as they are mine.”

Our eyes meet. We both know how much Mom loved those dishes.

“Promise you’ll save me the crusty ones.”

That gets a laugh out of her.

“Gross. And deal.”

We actually shake on it.

Alex treats us to pizza for lunch. Max runs around the front yard, flying his new Lego Batmobile, and I chase after him while Alex and Fiona sit on the stoop. Alex can’t stop talking about how much she loves Portland and how nice it is to be in the city. It’s deliberately loud enough for me to hear. Everything she says sounds like a suggestion for me.

They leave at four. Max squeezes me so hard, he refuses to let go, and I have to pry his fingers from around my waist. All I can think is Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. I bend down on a knee to face him.

“We’ll hang out soon, okay?”

“When?”

He blinks his bright green eyes at me, and my heart liquifies.

Soon isn’t enough for him, he needs something concrete, but how can I give him concrete when my life is mostly quicksand?

“Soon,” I say.

He raises his pinky finger toward me.

“Pinky swear?”

Fi’s probably figuring out this is where my inspiration for last night came from. I lock my finger around Max’s. This seems to satisfy him. He scrambles into the back seat.

“You dropping by Bryce’s?”

I ask Alex now that Max is out of earshot.

Bryce and Alex were the it couple in high school until they had Max. His support has been spotty at best, but she still takes Max to visit him a few times a year.

“No. Not this time. He might come to Portland next week.”

“Right.”

She gives me a hug and pats my back.

“Later, loser. Bye, Fiona.”

Fi waves.

“Good luck with the new place!”

“Drive safe!”

I call out as she gets in the car.

“No, you drive safe!”

She shouts back before slamming the door.

I pretend to scratch my face with my middle finger, and she honks at me. Fiona jumps, and I shake my head feigning ignorance. We wave as they reverse out of the driveway, my smile falling the second they’re out of sight.

Home feels so empty without them.

Fi’s already got her keys in her hand. She’s dying to get out of here.

“So? Did Alex give you the hard sell?”

“Yup.”

“What’d she say?”

It’s a shitty question, because I already know what was said. What’s the deal with you two? It’s just never been said between us and part of me wants that conversation to happen. What is our deal?

Fi shrugs.

“The usual. That the suit is in your best interest, and she asked me to talk to you about the letter.”

I guess she doesn’t want to have that conversation. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You should apologize. You were pretty brutal.”

“Yeah. I’ll text her.”

That’s when I spot something in the grass. “Shit.”

Max’s Lego Batman. I pick it up and show Fi. He’ll freak out. I call Alex, but she doesn’t answer. Probably on purpose.

“It’s okay. You’ll see him soon.”

I shoot her a look. We both know I won’t.

“Or we can go to Portland,”

she offers, before correcting herself.

“I mean, you can go to Portland.”

She’s getting all flustered, and I don’t blame her. My head is spinning with we and you and whose life is whose anymore.

She takes tiny steps backwards heading for her car.

“I’m going to head out.”

“You must be so sick of my bullshit.”

“It’s still better than my bullshit.”

She climbs in, and I lean on the car by the open window.

“So, what’s the name of the hotel you booked?”

“I don’t remember, it was something really forgettable,”

she says, smiling wide.

“The ocean . . . side . . . inn or something.”

She is such a liar.

“It should be in your emails.”

“I used my dad’s email, so it’s not.”

A good one though, I’ll give her that.

“Mmm, well, text me the link when you get in. I’m dying to see it.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be surprised?”

I consider this.

“No. I’d rather have something to look forward to.”

“Okay, but have low expectations. I’m on a budget.”

“I have faith in you, Fi.”

I hold a hand up in a wave as she backs out of the endless driveway.

She didn’t book anything. Not a chance.

But now, I hope she will.