Time (Laws of Physics #3)(36)
“I haven’t been a good brother to you,” he continued, sounding angry, solemn. “I’ve been pretty fucking blind about you, not taking the time to think about what you might need. I’ve replaced you, and Mom and Dad, and Lisa to an extent, with friendships, building my family elsewhere. Because Mona, I need family.” Leo lifted a hand to my head and gently returned my cheek to his shoulder.
“I need people. I need a network, a community. I thought maybe you didn’t. I thought you weren’t built that way. But what I think now is that it doesn’t fucking matter how you’re built. You’re my sister.” His voice now a harsh whisper, I could feel the restlessness in his body, the frustration. “You should’ve come to me, you should’ve told me when it happened. But that means I should’ve been—before that, way before that—someone you trusted. Someone you never doubted would help. Someone who put you above his friends. I should’ve been checking on you, letting you know I was interested, making it clear you mattered. That’s all on me.”
The panic slowly receded, with each breath I exhaled bits and pieces of the memory, of the strangling fear, until it simmered in my stomach instead of suffocating my lungs.
And my brother continued to hold me, petting my hair and making a suspiciously watery clearing-of-the-throat sound that—for some reason—made me smile.
“Mona baby,” he said suddenly, breaking the moment, and I couldn’t stop my laugh, because that’s what he used to call me when we were little. “You need to see someone, to help you work through this.”
Now I tensed. A second later, I removed myself from his grip. He let me go, but I could feel his eyes on me as I paced away.
“Uh, I don’t think that’s necessary.” The last thing I wanted to do was talk about it. To anyone.
“Mona, I’m not letting this go. I have a list of good psychologists who you can do phone sessions with from Geneva.”
I glanced at him. He’d withdrawn a piece of paper from his jacket pocket. Abruptly, the expansive hallway felt too small.
“I don’t think I need—”
“Yes. You do. You’re doing this.” He reached for my hand and placed the paper in my palm. I didn’t flinch. “I already made you an appointment with the first person on the list.”
“But how will I pay for it?” I asked, using the easiest, most obvious excuse, and crumpling the list. “Insurance only covers so much. I can’t afford—”
“You can.” Leo reclaimed my hand and, using both of his, straightened the paper out. “You have your monthly allowance account—from Mom and Dad—and the money is all in your name. I bet it’s just sitting there. I bet you’ve never touched it.”
I scowled, because he was right. In addition to the travel account, our parents had set up accounts for each of us when we hit eighteen, depositing the maximum tax-free gift amount yearly as a fun money fund. It was one of their ways of demonstrating how much they supported us, in addition to all the other bank accounts.
Because money was how they supported us. Money. Just money.
“It must have over a hundred thousand dollars in it by now. Use that.”
“I don’t want their money,” I whispered between clenched teeth, not knowing I was going to hurl the words at my brother until they were already out. The fervor in my whisper surprised both of us. I swallowed, trying to figure out why my heart was beating so fast, and why my mouth tasted like persimmons.
Meanwhile, Leo’s eyes had widened, concern replacing the self-recrimination from moments prior. “Mona—”
“No. No. I don’t want it. I don’t want money from them.” I stuffed the list of psychologists in my pocket, next to the poem Abram had written me in Aspen, mostly to get it out of my sight.
My brother’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, commiseration etched into his features. “I get it, okay? I mean, I really do. It feels like a payoff, right? Like, to them, the money replaces all the things they didn’t give us, or couldn’t.”
Staring at him, I admitted nothing, working to tuck away these untidy emotions.
Abram inspired emotions? Yes. I was ready for those, I wanted them all, even the untidy ones.
My parents? No. I didn’t want any of the untidy emotions or second-guessing they inspired. I loved them. They did their best. I understood that. No one was perfect. I wasn’t perfect. They had responsibilities beyond their children. I understood that too. See? Look how reasonable I was. See how tidy and rational?
And yet, just the thought of taking money from “Mona’s fun fund” made me want to throw a chair through a window just to hear the glass break.
Leo frowned, clearly frustrated. “Then let me pay for it.”
“Leo, I don’t need—”
“You do.” He advanced, stopping abruptly when he seemed to realize that he’d backed me up until I was against the wall. Taking two steps away, he cursed under his breath. the line of his jaw was stern, but his gaze appeared apologetic. “You do. I wish this never happened to you. I wish it didn’t take hearing about it to wake me up to how I’ve been a shitty brother. So, yeah, I’m going to hound you about this until you do it. And Lisa will, and Gabby too. Good luck avoiding this. Good luck dodging Gabby. You know she’ll fly out to Geneva, and so will I. We’re not letting this go. And if you don’t do it, I’ll tell Abram. I know him a lot better than you do, and he’ll—”