Time (Laws of Physics #3)(21)

She blinked at me, her gaze clouding with confusion. “You don’t think I like you?”

“Do you?”

Lisa opened her mouth, hesitated, and blinked, as though surprised by her own thoughts. Closing her mouth, she frowned at me, swallowing and shaking her head. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, but she looked ashamed, her gaze shifty, her posture stiff.

Her outward display of guilt helped my own thoughts crystalize. “I think, you and I, we’ve spent a long time not knowing each other. I think we’ve made assumptions about each other that might not be true.”

She considered this for a moment, then asked, “Like what? What do you assume about me?”

“You’re bossy. And stubborn.”

“But I am. And so what? I know for a fact you deal with bossy, stubborn, arrogant people all the time.”

“Those people aren’t my sister.”

“So what? What difference does that—”

“Because I don’t care about what they think. I’m not scared of losing them.”

Lisa snapped her mouth shut, flinching back, her eyes growing large at the vehemence in my voice.

But for me, the floodgates had opened. “You push your experiences on me, like I’m responsible for them, like I should be able to read your mind, or like I shared those same experiences, and completely disregard that my life was—is—different than yours. That doesn’t mean my life is better, or harder, or easier. It’s just different. You think that I’m emotionless, or that I should be. But I’m not. I don’t want to be emotionless.”

Lisa blinked, her eyes watery, and shifted them to some point over my head.

“I want to believe you love me, and part of me does,” I admitted quietly, the words sticking in my throat. “But another part of me is constantly worried that you don’t, not enough. I wonder, if I do something or say something you don’t like, will you ignore me again?”

Her face crumpled and she closed her eyes. My heart gave an aching lurch. A rush of heat flooded my neck and cheeks. Now I felt like a big jerk, and I wondered if I’d said too much.

“Lisa.” I struggled with the impulse to take it all back.

She swallowed, sniffling, shaking her head, her eyes still closed. “I don’t know what to say.”

I couldn’t think of what to say either.

Were things so broken between us? These last few years, we’d made progress, hadn’t we? We spoke. I knew her daily, weekly, and monthly routines. I knew how she liked her coffee. I knew who her least favorite teachers and subjects were. But how much did I know—really, really know—about my own sister?

In a way, it was ironic. I’d spent twelve days total with Abram, but felt like I knew him better, felt more confident with him, trusted him more than I did Lisa. If I were honest with myself, I had similar feelings toward Leo, and my parents. Similar concerns.

Do they love me enough for me to be myself with them?

My heart gave another painful twist, one that nearly robbed me of my breath. I hoped they did, but looking back, looking at their actions, or lack of actions, I faced the facts I’d been ignoring for maybe my whole life.

I couldn’t be certain. I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust them.

Watching my sister’s struggle with her wobbly chin, none of my words felt right.

At a loss, I decided to repeat something Abram had said to me at a critical time between us, something that, in retrospect, had made all the difference to me.

“Lisa, will you be brave with me?” I reached forward, covered her hand with mine, and waited until she met my eyes. “Will you let me know you?”





6





Radio Astronomy





Abram





She picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”

My leg stopped bouncing. Finally. “Mona.”

“Abram! How are you? How was the flight? Did you sleep? And the concert? Did you make it back in time? Did it go well? Are you all done?”

I closed my eyes and lay down on the bench of the stretch limo, covering my forehead with my arm. Her intoxicating voice washed over me, covering, surrounding, lifting. Relief. Sweet, sweet relief.

“It is so good to hear your voice.” Finally.

I spoke into the darkness, holding the phone to my ear. This moment was the very first moment since I’d left her ten hours ago that I felt like I could breathe.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, but I could almost see her smiling. I could certainly feel it, and an answering slow, spreading smile claimed my mouth. This was how it should have been for the last six days.

“Thank you,” she said, definitely smiling. “It’s good to hear your voice too.” I heard her move, or something rustle in the background. “Do you feel like talking? Or are you too tired?”

“Not too tired. Tell me . . .” I began, not quite sure how to ask my next question. I didn’t want to put her on the spot, but I was worried. “How were things after I left? With your sister?”

A moment of near silence followed, during which I could make out the faint sound of her breathing. My jaw working, I struggled to keep a lid on my temper, but her silence led me to assume the worst.

No one fucks with Mona. No. One.