But he won’t, not the way he is now. And not if he goes off his meds again when I’m gone.
I look down at a stray leaf skittering by my feet. “I know, I just… It’s hard to know what to do sometimes.”
Saul’s arm goes around me. “I wish I could say that part of life gets easier.”
I lean my head against his shoulder and close my eyes and we stay like that for a while. When I open my eyes, I notice a couple of women giving us strange looks. I stare back until they look away. Sometimes I feel as if I should wear a sign that says HE’S MY STEPDAD!!!! to combat the baffled looks we get when we’re together. It’s fucking gross.
I tell Saul I want to go see the big boulder at the edge of the museum grounds, so we make our way over, stopping a few feet from the group of older people already congregated underneath. They walk through the tunnel super slowly, gazing up at the enormous rock suspended above. We stand back and wait, giving them space.
“Saul?”
“Suzette?” he says with a grin, imitating my serious tone.
I lick my lips and press them together before I ask him, “When Lion’s older, what if… what if he decides to go off medication?”
Even that question sends terror zipping through me, but I hope he reads between the lines, because I don’t know if I’m strong enough to blurt out what I want to tell him.
Saul turns to face me, his lips parted. “Well, I’m not sure there’s anything we could do about that when he’s an adult. Unless he was hurting himself, and then we could have him hospitalized, but that’s not a long-term solution. And if he’s still planning to go away for college, that’s not something we could actively control once he’s gone.”
I nod.
Saul looks at me a long moment, as if he’s trying to decide whether I’m mature enough to handle what he wants to say. I’ve noticed more looks like that from him and Mom in the last year or so, as if a line runs down the middle of my face, separating me into child on one side and adult on the opposite.
“You know, when Daphne and I split up, we had a lot of talks about our custody agreement. We both decided Lionel living with me would be the best thing for him at the time, and then he got along so well with you and Nadine that we decided he’d stay here permanently.”
“But why did you decide it was best for him?”
He puts his hands in his pockets and blinks down at the ground. “Daph was going through some issues of her own. Not as intense as what Lionel has, but similar. Cyclothymia, another mood disorder. Some people call it a cousin of bi-polar. A mild form. There’s no approved medication specifically for cyclothymia, and Daphne didn’t want to take a chance on the ones typically prescribed. She didn’t want to go to therapy, either, and… I didn’t feel like that was the best option with your brother around, so he came with me.”
I twist my fingers around the hem of my black tank. “But she seems like she does okay.”
He looks at me. “Daphne is a competent, amazing woman, just like Lionel is going to be a competent, amazing man. But I personally don’t see the value in refusing treatment that could help someone live a more stable life.”
I had no idea about Lionel’s mother. He’s never mentioned it, and I wonder if they’ve ever spoken about the choice to not medicate, if she influenced his decision to stop or if the inclination runs in their blood, similar to their illnesses.
The people ahead of us eventually tire of the boulder’s wonder and head toward the museum, leaving us to take our turn. I feel unsteady on my feet as we walk, too much new information swimming through my mind.
“Stay right there,” Saul says when I’m under the rock, and he jogs off a ways to take a picture of me with his phone’s camera.
The installation is called Levitated Mass. I will look tiny beneath it. Extraordinarily small because of the massive stone balanced over my head, my features indistinguishable because of the distance between Saul and me. I curl into an even tighter version of myself. Holding on to one wall of the tunnel as if the boulder above will come crashing down when I let go.
I don’t want to tell Saul yet. If Daphne can live and thrive without treatment, maybe Lionel can do the same. And maybe that means I need one more sign before I tell his secret and ruin everything between us. If he’s able to manage on his own, like his mother, maybe I was never supposed to tell on him at all. Maybe we can keep this secret between us, just like the others we’ve kept, stored in the invisible vault that assembled itself when we became brother and sister.
Saul counts before he takes the photo.
I try to smile when he gets to three, but my lips won’t turn up so I hide the bottom half of my face behind my shoulder a second before the shutter clicks.
twenty-one.
Cemetery movies are a summertime tradition, and they’re exactly what they sound like: People pay money to watch movies in a cemetery.
But it’s a pretty cemetery in Hollywood, a lot filled with gorgeous mausoleums and crypts belonging to old-time movie stars and important people of Los Angeles. The movie is set up away from the gravestones, which eliminates the creep factor. And I always think there’s something peaceful about walking through the manicured grounds.
Lionel insists on driving to pick up Rafaela, but Emil wants to drive, too, so we take two cars. I have to wonder how much of Lionel’s insistence is because he doesn’t want to be trapped in a car with me. His energy level seems steady, like it hasn’t increased since the evening of the fight. It hasn’t gone down, either, but I’m waiting for that crash. Dreading its nearly inevitable arrival, no matter how unpredictable its timing.
He and Rafaela arrive first and we squeeze into the line ahead of them, ignoring the frowns of the people behind us. The gates don’t open for a couple more hours, but everyone lines up early to get the best spot on the grass.
“We brought snacks.” I hold up the paper bag in my hand.
“And we brought blankets and booze.” Rafaela points to the canvas backpack on her shoulders. “Oh, and I got a joint from Alicia.”
Lionel is in a good mood; I can see the energy behind his eyes, but he seems relatively calm. Sometimes I think about what he said to me that night, that we’re not really family, and I wonder if it actually happened. I’d think I’d completely imagined it, but every time he and I make eye contact there’s a hardness behind his gaze, and I know it was real. I suppose he realizes it was enough to get me to keep my mouth shut, because he doesn’t seem at all concerned that I’ll go to Mom and Saul. And I don’t feel comforted by the fact that my brother knows me so well.
As soon as we get through the gates he grabs Rafaela’s arm and they start running toward the viewing area. They push past people who were in line ahead of us, the blankets Lionel was in charge of tucked under his arm like a football. Rafaela screams as they sprint away, wild and giddy, like she’s tearing through the air on a roller coaster.
“Damn. Lionel might’ve missed his calling with track,” Emil says, watching them go.
I take a deep breath and tell myself that’s not the sign. Not yet.
By the time we find them, Lionel and Rafaela have already claimed a patch of grass big enough for the four of us to spread out. They’re carefully smoothing out the wrinkles in the blankets when we arrive and Lionel looks up with a proud grin. “A pretty perfect spot, right?”
Rafaela doesn’t wait for us to respond before she confirms this with a kiss. “The best, babe.”
Babe? Wow. My eyebrows go up involuntarily and I feel Emil’s hand slip into my free one. I glance at him, wondering why he chose that moment to take my hand. He only smiles.
The time before the movie is prime for people-watching, when the DJ is spinning and people are popping open bottles of wine and setting up full-fledged picnics. I’m always fascinated by the groups of people who sit together, how sometimes they all seem to look and dress alike, and then others appear to be a bunch of people who were randomly selected to be friends. I wonder what people think wh
en they look at the four of us together.
Emil and I raided the shit out of our respective refrigerators, so we have paper-thin slices of prosciutto, six different kinds of cheese, fancy crackers, and fig jam. There are red and green grapes and hard-boiled eggs and pickles and an entire loaf of French bread, along with some leftover challah I managed to save from last night’s Shabbat dinner. Rafaela and Lionel produce small plastic cups and two bottles of red wine that look expensive; I don’t ask how they got them.
“I’ve never seen Dazed and Confused,” Emil says almost sheepishly as the film is about to begin.
“Me either,” I admit.
“It’s a classic,” Rafaela declares. “Makes me wish I grew up in the seventies.”
“I’m not laid-back enough for the seventies,” Emil muses, moving a plate of cheese to the side.
“No free love for you?” she teases.
My eyes slide toward her. When she makes eye contact I know we’re both thinking of that night in the bathroom, of how things would be different between us if we all believed in free love.
“Nah. I’m more of a one-woman kind of guy.” Emil puts his arm around me and my face turns hot, as if he could read our thoughts. Rafaela smiles over at us and snuggles into Lionel, her palm grazing the freckles on his arm.
The audience is vocal, saying the lines with the characters or shouting them out before they’ve been recited. Rafaela pulls out the joint and sparks it up about a third of the way into the movie, but the smell of weed already permeates the air around us. She takes a long drag and passes it to me. I consider it for a moment, then take a small hit; it’s been a while since I’ve smoked pot. And it’s strong, but the small bit of smoke I inhale is smooth going down my throat. I hold out the joint to Emil, who shakes his head.
Lionel looks at me expectantly, but I hesitate before I hand it to him. I have no idea if he’s ever smoked before. What if he has a bad reaction?
Then he snatches the joint out of my hand without a word, reminding me that he doesn’t care what I think is best for him. I watch as he inspects it, puts it in his mouth, and sucks in. He repeats this two more times, and I think he’d have gone for a fourth hit if Rafaela hadn’t said, “Yo, save some for the rest of us.”
But I’m done. I can already feel it hitting me. Just strong enough to loosen my limbs and cloud my head with a delicious haziness, but not so much that I’m unaware of what’s going on around me.
“Feeling good?” Emil whispers by my ear.
I nod and relax against him.
Halfway through the movie, I sit up to grab my bottle of water. My throat is parched. I can’t find it next to me, and when I start searching the blanket, I look up and find Rafaela and Lionel making out. Not short, sweet kisses like before, but full-on lips melded together, his hands tangled in her hair with hers draped lazily around his waist. They’re practically lying back on the blanket and it all makes my stomach turn, but I can’t stop watching, either.
“Hey,” Emil says, and when I don’t reply, he lightly rubs my arm. “Hey, let’s go for a walk.”
I start to protest, point out that the movie is still playing, but both of us know I’m not even pretending to watch. So when he stands and holds out his hand, I take it and follow him off to the edge of the viewing area. We pass the portable toilets and stop next to the fat base of a date palm tree.
“What’s going on?” Emil’s voice is calm, but his face is unsmiling.
“What do you mean?” For some reason, I don’t want to make this easy for him.
“I’ve been watching you watch them all night.”
“I’m sorry if I’m worried about my brother, but—”
He shakes his head. “No, you were watching her.”
I don’t look at him as I speak. “I’m not checking out every girl just because I’m bi.”
Everything freezes, just for a moment; this is the first time I’ve said it so definitively, without questioning what I am. Emil doesn’t seem to notice or care.
“Come on, Suzette. Give me more credit than that.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “I’ve seen you around other girls. It’s not the same.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
He exhales. “Do you like her?”
“No.” Then, a second later: “I don’t know.”
“So, I guess that’s a yes.” He pauses. “That night at the party… did something happen with you and her? When you went upstairs?”
“Emil, no. Nothing has happened with Rafaela. Ever.”
“But you’ve wanted it to.” Not a question.
I look up at him, at his face twisted into an expression I hope to never see again, full of anger and hurt. And I’m the one causing him to look that way. “I like you. I’m here with you.”
“I kind of feel like you’re here for everyone but me.”
“What?”
“Like you’re keeping tabs on Rafaela because you like her. And listen… I get that you’re close to your brother and you want to be there for him, but it’s like you feel responsible for everything he does. He doesn’t need to be looked after by his little sister. He needs real help, Suzette.”
“He’s still going to his therapist,” I mumble to the tree. But I’m not even sure if that’s true anymore.
“Seriously? Because as worried as you seem… wouldn’t his therapist know something is wrong, too?”
“I don’t know, Emil. He barely talks to me anymore.” Maybe he’s successfully managed to skip appointments or convinced Dr. T and my parents that he’s ready to cut back on them, or perhaps he’s simply so good at hiding his symptoms when he needs to that no one suspects anything is out of the ordinary. “I feel like shit.”
“That’s exactly my point. You don’t deserve to feel that way.”
“He’s my brother!” I cry out so loudly that a man walking by jumps a little. “What am I supposed to do? Let him go through this alone? I was gone for the entire school year—the least I can do is be here for him now.”
“You didn’t abandon him, Suzette. He had your parents and doctors and… it’s not like they couldn’t get by without you here.”
“Oh, so now it doesn’t matter whether I’m around or not? Thanks, Emil.” I start to stalk off, but he touches my elbow, gently pulls me back to him.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that. You’re…” He swallows hard. “You’re one of the best people I know. I hate seeing you caught up in this shit. And I hate that I care so much.”
“Well, I hate being caught up in it.” I swallow before what I say next. And I say it softly. “Why do you care so much?”
“You mean why have I always liked you?” He laughs a little, but I know he doesn’t think anything about this conversation is funny. “I would’ve turned it off a long time ago if I could have. I never thought you’d like me back and now… God, I sound like such an asshole.”
I don’t say anything in response and after a few seconds, he goes on.
“You know how our moms studied abroad in France their senior year?”
I nod. “Paris.”
“They loved it so much they promised to give their first kids French names.”
“What?” I take a step back.
“Emil and Suzette.” He exhales, and now he’s talking to the tree, too. “I’ve always thought it meant something, like we’re cosmically linked. Our moms are best friends. They had us the same year and ended up living a couple of miles away from each other. Our names… I thought we were soul mates.”
I blink, focused on his shoulder. “My mom never told me that.”
He looks at me now. “You know, I always felt weird growing up, having a French first name and a Korean last name and dark skin. People don’t know what to do with all that. But knowing you made me feel a little more normal. Like at least we shared two of those things.”
“Emil…”
“I don’t want to be with you if you’re into someone else, Suzet
te. I’m not saying you have to choose, but I can’t keep hanging out with you and her… not with the way you look at her. I like you too much to be okay with that.”
His voice chokes at the end and he walks away then and he doesn’t stop when I call his name.
I trail him back to the blanket, staying a few feet behind. I don’t know what to say after that. I don’t know how to feel about what he said. I’ve never seen Emil so upset, and I never thought I’d be the one to make him feel that way.
Lionel is gone when I get back to the blanket and I stop myself from asking where he is. Rafaela and Emil are sitting as far apart as possible, not talking.
She looks up when I sit down between them, her eyes asking me what’s going on, but I give an almost imperceptible head shake and turn back toward the screen. The kids in the movie are all at some big party in a huge field not unlike the one we’re currently gathered in, minus the gravestones and plus something called a moon tower. They’re having a lot more fun than any of us on this blanket.
Rafaela starts to look around after a while. I’m now nervous about any interactions with her around Emil, but I’m almost relieved when she leans in to whisper because I’m so aware of how quiet he is on the other side of me. He hasn’t looked my way once since I sat back down.
But then she says: “Lionel’s been gone for kind of a long time.”
“Where did he go?”
“To the bathroom, but that wasn’t long after you guys left.”
I frown. “I didn’t see him.”
Which doesn’t mean anything. There are tons of people here, and the area by the toilets can get crowded. But I’m usually so good at spotting Lionel in a crowd.
“I’ve texted him a couple of times and he’s not responding,” she says, her own eyebrows scrunched together.
I pull out my phone and call him, but of course he doesn’t pick up. If he’s not responding to Rafaela, he’s definitely not going to answer for me. Still, I leave a quick message telling him to call me. I keep my phone out.
Little & Lion Page 20
