by Zac Brewer
The truth was, I was feeling more than a little uneasy at the idea of seeing my adoptive sister again. We hadn’t laid eyes on each other since the day I’d left for California, and I didn’t really feel like I had changed all that much in four years. I was older now, yes. Taller, certainly. But now that I was here, the emotional shards that made up my being were still just as jagged and sharp as they had always been.
Over the years, Viktor had kept me apprised of Grace’s life. She was a shoo-in for valedictorian, had many friends, was in many clubs, and on and on and on. She was everything I wasn’t, and things had been so much better when we were apart. I didn’t know if Grace felt the same way, but it seemed like it. She hadn’t texted or called me even once in four years. Seemed like a mutual feeling to me.
Viktor took a moment before responding, as if gathering his words carefully. “She’s sleeping in. She thought you might want some time to talk with me before you saw her.”
I sighed, running a hand through my tousled hair. “Right. Which means you thought you should see me first so you could lecture me on getting along with her.”
“Your sister isn’t exactly the uncaring monster you make her out to be.”
But Viktor didn’t know Grace like I did. She was very good at putting up a front when the right people were looking. The girl could have won an Oscar for her acting, if only it were on-screen instead of in her everyday life.
“Please. Grace only cares about Grace, Viktor. Always has. Always will.”
A silence hung between us—one full of both understanding and disagreement. The calm, patient smile had left Viktor’s face. “Do you have any more luggage to collect?”
I held up my duffel bag by the straps. “This is all I brought.”
Viktor nodded, and when he turned toward the glass doors, I followed. The awkwardness between us was unbearable, and I knew it was mostly my fault it was there. Viktor was very much a keep-the-peace kind of person, whereas I didn’t give a crap about rocking the boat. Better to speak the truth and upset someone than lie your way through life with a smile on your face. But still . . . I hated hurting Viktor.
As we stepped outside and crossed the street to the parking garage, I cleared my throat and said, “How are you feeling, anyway?”
Viktor withdrew his key fob from his pocket and pressed the unlock button on his silver Lexus. As he opened the driver’s side door, he said, “Tired, I suppose. But I’d wager that most of my weariness is from preparations for the new school year. I’m in no more pain than I usually am. To tell the truth, I don’t feel sick. Not really. Does that surprise you?”
“Honestly, yes.” I opened the passenger’s side door and tossed my bag in the backseat. “I half expected to see you attached to an oxygen tank.”
Laughter escaped Viktor, and he slid into the driver’s seat. I joined him inside the car, relieved to hear him laugh. He said, “It’s a good thing you’re not going into the medical field, my boy. It’s not always like you see in the movies. I swear to you, I feel quite fine, apart from a little underslept.”
I wasn’t sure whether this was entirely a good thing. It was honestly a little scarier that his illness bore no visible signs—that he could hardly feel it. Part of me worried that Viktor might drop dead right in front of me at any second.
I spent the drive back to Viktor’s house staring out the windows. Every once in a while, on either side of the road, there was a break in the trees. Sometimes the break held a house, sometimes an old barn or other abandoned building. There were only a few other cars and trucks on the road. I’d almost forgotten what it looked like out here.
“How is Julian handling the news that you’re sick?”
“He doesn’t know. And I intend to keep it that way for as long as possible.” A semitruck passed us on the left, its engine roaring. Viktor’s sunglasses may have been able to hide his eyes, but they couldn’t hide the tension in his jaw.
Julian and Viktor had been together since Grace and I were in kindergarten. Julian felt as much a part of my family as Viktor did. “Don’t you think that’s a bit . . . I dunno . . . cruel? Not to tell him that he’s losing you?”
After an uncomfortably long beat, Viktor spoke at last, his words soft but certain. “If you’d known you were going to lose your parents, but had no idea what day it would happen, wouldn’t that have been a larger burden than just having it happen suddenly? I don’t want to draw out his pain.”
My chest felt heavy at the mention of my parents, but I understood why Viktor had brought them up. Even if I did disagree with not telling Julian about his illness. “He loves you, Viktor. You shouldn’t lie to him. Especially not about this. And withholding information is the same as lying.”
Viktor’s left hand moved slightly, pressing the blinker lever down. He turned and drove through the black iron gates at the front of his home. “Why don’t we agree that I will leave the topic of you and your sister alone, so long as you leave my business with Julian and my illness alone?”
I mumbled a halfhearted but affirmative response.
I had always loved visiting Viktor when my parents were alive. He had one of the most beautiful homes I had ever seen. In the years that I’d been away, I’d forgotten just how beautiful.
The house sat at the end of a long, gravel driveway with a circle in front. Not at all like the gravel you might find on a dirt road in the country, but polished, white river rock. The grounds were well groomed, with flower beds placed throughout. Julian had quite the green thumb, I remembered now. My mom had often commented on how jealous she was about that. As a botanist, she felt like she should have the prettier garden, but Julian refused to let her. It had been a playful argument between them for years.
Viktor and Julian’s two-story redbrick home was huge—far bigger than two men alone required. But, as Viktor liked to brag, it was on the national registry of historic homes, and I think that’s what appealed to him most. It had been built in the seventeen hundreds and was used as a hospital during the Revolutionary War. As we approached the end of the drive, I could see Julian coming out the front door. The look in his eyes was happy, eager. It hurt to know that he’d lose his husband soon and had no idea it was coming.
“I still think you should tell him,” I said.
The car came to a stop in front of the house. Julian opened his arms in greeting, a smile on his lips. I reached for the door handle, but was halted by Viktor’s hand on my shoulder.
“You should know that I asked Grace to join us for dinner tonight.” He was facing me now that the car had stopped. And the look in his eyes was almost pleading. Pleading with me to play nice with my sister. The one thing that I did not think it was possible to do.
“Awesome.” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, reminding myself that I was doing this for him.
“Adrien. You’ve gotten so tall.” As I stepped out of the car, Julian hugged me and then held me back by the shoulders, looking me over. “And still so resistant to the idea of ironing. I guess an overnight flight is a good excuse, at least.”
I forced a smile at his jab. Despite his criticism, I’d always liked Julian. Ever since Viktor had begun inviting him to dinner parties at my parents’ home, back when Viktor was still pretending that they were just colleagues and nothing more. It was Julian who’d shared their happy news when they became engaged, and everyone we knew accepted it with a smile. Who could fault them for finding happiness?
“It’s good to see you, Julian. How’ve you been?”
“Wonderful. Viktor may have already mentioned it, but I’ve accepted a teaching position at Wills, starting this year. Mostly I’ll be teaching freshman English, but I’m also leading one of the new electives they’re offering for all years—one that focuses on communication. I’d love to have you in class, but I’m betting you’ll be more interested in the forensics elective.”
It’s true, the word forensics grabbed my attention far more than communication. But this was Julian’s first teaching j
ob in years, and it’s not like I would be taking any classes here for longer than a month. “Sounds interesting. Maybe I’ll sign up for it.”
“I hope so. I could use a friendly face in the crowd.” He turned and kissed Viktor lightly on the cheek. “How was the drive?”
“Delightfully uneventful.” Viktor smiled at Julian, his eyes sparkling. As we walked into the house, Viktor tossed his car keys my way. “Would you mind hanging those up for me?”
“Sure thing.” A small wooden cabinet hung on the wall just inside the door, just as it had for years. As I opened the cabinet door, I saw several sets of keys hanging on the hooks inside. I moved my hand from set to set, examining them. On the last hook was a set of keys with a key ring labeled Maggie.
My heart skipped a beat as I slipped the key ring off the hook and held the keys tightly in my hand. Memories of my dad, wearing dirty coveralls and covered in grease, a far cry from the lab coat and glasses that he usually wore, came flooding back to me.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Viktor watching me. “She’s in the garage under a tarp.” He smiled. “She needs a new set of tires and a tune-up, but I’m sure she could be ready to go in no time.”
Viktor looked pointedly into my eyes. “And of course, now that you’re here, she’s yours.”
His words entered my ears and flew through my body in a cascade of utter joy. Maggie was mine. After all this time.
“Thank you, Viktor. You have no idea what this means to me.” Initially, our agreement was that I could have Maggie at the age of sixteen if I remained at Wills, or after graduation if I left. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t already thought about what would happen to her now that I was back only temporarily. I guess I had my answer now. Or at least her keys.
My father’s keys. My keys. I put them in my front pocket. Maggie was mine at last. As it should be.
After an epic nap that lasted most of the day, dinner smells called me down to the dining room. Roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, asparagus. It smelled like Julian had made my favorite foods for my first night back.
The pocket doors stood open at the end of the hall, revealing the formal dining room. I stepped inside and took my seat across from my sister.
Grace didn’t look all that different than she had four years before. She was older now, of course, but in almost every respect, she still looked like the Grace I remembered. Prim. Proper. Perfect.
She nodded a curt greeting, her eyes sweeping over but not really stopping on me. “Adrien.”
“Grace.” I nodded back. It was all very formal, all very fake. Like everything between my sister and me.
“You’re so much taller than you were.”
“Your hair is shorter.”
We were pointing out the obvious while we waited for some sort of familiarity to creep in. I doubted that would ever happen. I glanced at Viktor and Julian as they took their seats together at the end of the table, but they were no help. Perhaps they were hoping that five minutes of idle chatter might repair the silence of the past four years. They were wrong. I couldn’t bear to tell them how wrong.
Grace smoothed out her napkin on her lap and managed a polite smile. But her words were taunting, as if she was trying to get me to lose my cool. “How’s your GPA?”
It had always been this way. Grace was the daughter who could do no wrong, with perfect grades and a blossoming social life. I was the bright son with no real drive to speak of. I had friends, sure . . . most of whom I hung out with in detention. And yet she still insisted on comparing us, as though I was even trying to compete.
I lifted my right shoulder in a shrug, letting her words roll off me. “I’m doing all right. Business as usual.”
“Same with me. A four-point-oh, in case you were curious.” She adjusted in her seat, as if her posture could get any straighter.
“I wasn’t.” The air grew warm, then heavy, then silent.
The grandfather clock in the hall was ticking loudly as the seconds passed. Finally, Julian cleared his throat and said, “Why don’t we all have a drink before dinner?”
“I don’t drink.” I’d had a drink or three, sure. But I didn’t care much for it. In my experience, drinking only led to headaches—both the figurative and literal kind.
“I wasn’t offering you alcohol, Adrien.” Julian pasted on that Julian smile, probably hoping to lighten the air a bit.
“I’ll make some herbal tea.” Grace began to stand, but Viktor shook his head and gestured for her to remain seated.
“Don’t be silly. You and Adrien sit here and catch up while Julian and I finish getting everything ready.” Viktor stood from his chair and motioned for Julian to join him.
“I’ll be back in a minute with some tea. And a Mountain Dew for you, Adrien?” He grabbed Julian’s arm, and they exited the room. As proper as Viktor usually acted, it was practically a shove out the door.
“Well.” Grace folded her napkin again and set it on the table. It was as if she needed to move around in order to maintain calm. Chaos to control. She lowered her voice, as if we were sharing some kind of secret. “This is awkward.”
No secret there. Grace hadn’t gotten any worse at pointing out the obvious. “It usually is when two strangers are left in a room to shoot the shit.”
“Honestly.” She was visibly disturbed by my choice of words. “We’re hardly strangers.”
“Oh really?” I raised a defiant eyebrow. “What’s my favorite color?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but changed her mind and pursed her lips. I reveled a little in being right. There was something oddly satisfying about annoying my sister.
“Y’know, you didn’t have to run away from everyone and leave Wills.” She continued not to look at me when she spoke.
I looked at my silverware. The low light of the chandelier was reflected in the shiny surfaces. I wondered how long Viktor and Julian planned to keep up this torture. “But you’re glad I did?”
I wasn’t sure why it had left my mouth as a question. I already knew the answer, and honestly couldn’t give a crap about it.
“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t enjoyed these last four years with you being gone. Your absence has certainly eased the tension around here.”
“Well, I won’t be here for long, so you can go ahead and get on with life as usual, Your Highness.”
She didn’t respond. Merely sipped from her water glass. For some reason, that got under my skin worse than anything.
“So basically you think I’m back to screw up your picture-perfect life. Is that what you’re saying?” I knew I was egging her on. I didn’t care. It had been too long and too much had remained unsaid.
“I never said that. But then again, I don’t suppose I had to. Did I?” The napkin went back in her lap again. I wished she would make up her mind about where she wanted it. I was tired of watching her fidget.
“I wasn’t the only one who caused problems between us, Grace.”
“No, but you started them.” Finally, she met my eyes. It was the first time she had really looked at me since our parents had died. “Probably out of your relentless need for attention.”
“Don’t tell me—you took a psych class last semester, didn’t you?” I rolled my eyes. “You’re not going to start analyzing me now, are you?”
“Of course not. I just think we should settle some things before classes begin.” The napkin was back on the table.
“Fine. Let’s do that, then.” I dropped my napkin on the table, too. While hers was neatly folded, mine was in a heap on my plate. I was done pretending to be nice, not that either of us were doing a very good job at that. “Why did you take those pages from Dad’s journal?”
Grace sighed with an air of impatience. “Adrien. That was four years ago.”
“It may as well have been yesterday for me.” She averted her eyes again. I wasn’t sure if it was from shame, or if she just hated me so much that she couldn’t stand to look at me. “I received a text from someone
yesterday morning who said you were planning to take credit for Dad’s work. Is it true?”
“Who sent it?”
I could tell that my voice was beginning to rise. If Viktor and Julian couldn’t hear me by now, they would soon. “Who sent the text isn’t important. Is it true or isn’t it?”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“That’s not denial.”
“It’s also not confirmation.”
Viktor entered the dining room carrying drinks. Julian was right behind him, a bowl of mashed potatoes in his hands. “Herbal tea for you, Grace. And a Mountain Dew for you, Adrien. Would you like a glass? With ice, perhaps?”
“No, thanks.” I popped open the tab on the can and took a long swig. “Grace and I were just discussing honesty and integrity. Two qualities she apparently oozes from her pores.”
Grace picked up the teacup in her hands, blowing the steam from the top. After she took a sip, she returned the cup to its saucer and said, “I can’t recall. Do you have any siblings, Julian?”
“Four. One brother, three sisters. I’m the middle child.”
She touched the edges of her lips with her napkin. “Are you close?”
“Very. We had the usual fights when we were younger, but once we all got out of high school and into college, things settled down between us.” He sighed as he retook his seat at the end of the table. “I wouldn’t say we’re the best of friends, but we’re definitely close. Holiday visits, phone calls. You know.”
“I wish I had a sibling I could talk to.” Her voice was breathy with sadness, longing. It made me sick to hear it. Sick . . . and furious.
“Bullshit.” I flashed a glare at her. “Let’s face it, Grace. You never wanted me in your life. Not from day one. Don’t pretend you ever did.”
“I said a sibling. Not an orphan that we took in out of pity.” That dig was a little harsh, even for Grace, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting a little.
“And you say she’s not a terrible person.” I muttered my words to Viktor, who’d grown rather quiet since he returned to the dining room carrying trays of food.