39. Wicked

39

Wicked

Hi, Lele.

I fucking hate New York City.

It's loud. And cold. And I can't see the goddamn sky. I'm suffocated by this smog.

Why do people live here?

Taking a look at the address saved in my phone again, I squint up at the building in front of me, confirming I'm at the right place. There is a buzzer on the door, but the entrance is broken, so it's not even locked.

I easily walk right in, climbing the four flights of stairs until I reach door marked 402. I vaguely remember her apartment from when Leo and I visited last year, but I'd get lost trying to find my own feet in this city, so I'm proud I actually found it.

My knock is followed by a muffled string of expletives and rough shuffling. I glance at the time on my phone. It's just after eleven. Elena's always been a night owl, but damn.

Finally, I hear the turn of a latch and slide of a chain before the door creaks open. Eyes so similar to mine glare at me through an inch-wide crack. Brows furrowed, she looks me up and down, but the moment the recognition hits her, she stumbles backward.

The door slowly swings open, revealing my sister as she covers a hand with her mouth, eyes wide with shock and brimming with silent tears. "Everett?"

"Hi, Lele." I smile.

My heart about stops at the sight of her. She looks exhausted, thin and pale and sad. But knowing she's here in the flesh, that she's breathing, actually in front of me after nearly a year apart—my bones settle at that. They say a lot of bullshit about twins, but it can't be denied that the connection I have with her can never be duplicated. She always felt a little like my other half, despite the fact we couldn't be more different. Without my sister, it feels like a big chunk of who I am is missing from me, like I'm always walking around the world wearing only one shoe. Something just isn't right .

I take the deepest breath I've been capable of taking in a long, long time, and I open my arms to her. One quick glimpse of vulnerability flashes across her face as she steps into me. At hardly five feet tall, she barrels into my chest, wrapping her arms around my waist. I bring my arms around her head and hold her to me, knowing the moment I let her step away, she'll be wearing that mask again. She'll hide all her emotions like she always has—though it's worse now. She'll probably realize she's pissed at me for turning up unexpectedly.

I squeeze her one more time, hearing her sigh against me before she pulls away. Just as I expected, rage now simmers in her eyes. "What the fuck are you doing here? Why didn't you call me first?"

There are a lot of reasons I didn't call her first. If I had, she would've found an excuse not to see me, to not let me in. She sure as fuck would've found an excuse not to do what I'm about to make her do. I don't say that, though, because she's irrational when she's furious. "Thought it'd be more fun to surprise you."

She rolls her eyes just as a groan echoes through her very small apartment, followed by a sleep-mused, "Baby?"

For the first time, I take note of our surroundings. Elena's entire unit is about the size of my bedroom. It's a studio with a couch under the only window—a kitchen with nothing more than a half-sized fridge, a hot plate, and a sink, plus a bathroom I'm fairly certain I couldn't even fit inside. On the other side of me is a small television, her desk beside it. Books are piled all around the floor, along with various stacks of paper. The kitchen counter is littered with take-out boxes, the floor covered in dirty clothes.

The far end of the apartment holds her full-sized bed, and I now realize the pile of blankets heaped on top of it are not blankets at all. They're a man, likely the source of the noise I just heard.

I turn back to my sister, raising a brow. She doesn't look the least bit embarrassed, striding back over to her bed in nothing but a t-shirt and—I pray to God—a pair of underwear beneath it. Sliding the comforter off the man, she wraps it around her shoulders before patting his ass. "Get up."

Completely naked, this guy rolls over to face my sister, giving me an unfortunate view of his flaccid dick. I lean back against the farthest wall from her bed, crossing my arms. The man slowly opens his eyes, blinking around the room. He smiles sleepily at my sister, but the moment his gaze lands on me, he scrambles back on the bed, reaching for the sheets that are no longer there.

"Oh shit!" He flies out the bed, stumbling toward his jeans. "Oh fuck." He jumps into them, urgently searching the floor for the rest of his clothes. "I swear to God, man, I didn't know she had–"

"He's my brother. Calm down." Elena sighs, looking uninterested. "But you do need to go. Sorry. He showed up unexpectedly."

The man pauses, looking back and forth between us. "Your brother?" His eyes track my body, starting at my feet and making their way upward, likely taking note of our size difference. "That's worse!"

I snort. "If I gave a fuck who my sister was sleeping with, I would've lost my mind a long time ago."

Elena glares at me as a look of confusion takes over Nameless Man's face. He finishes dressing in awkward silence before my sister leads him to the door, ushering him out before slamming it behind him.

"Thanks for that. I was afraid I was going to have a hard time getting him to leave."

"How long have you known him?" I ask.

"What time is it?"

"Eleven-thirty."

Elena nods. "About twelve hours then."

"Christ, Elena," I mutter.

She laughs. "You're one to talk."

That's true. The last time I hooked up with someone I didn't know, I fell hopelessly in love with her, which might be more embarrassing than the nameless one-night stand itself.

"So…" she draws as she grabs a pair of sweatpants off the ground and hikes them up her legs. "How are you doing? Why are you here? When do you leave?" She smiles at me sarcastically as she falls back into her bed.

"I'm great." I take a slow spin around her apartment. "Is the furniture yours or did it come with the place?"

"Came with the place."

"So, what? Just the clothes and books are yours?"

Her eyes narrow, studying me intently as she drawls, "Essentially. Why?"

"Great." I smile. "Less we have to ship that way."

She sits up straight, tucking her knees against her chest. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You're coming home, Elena. Today."

She laughs, stopping the moment she realizes I'm not joining her. "Are you kidding?"

"No," I say, moving to step into the door.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes. You are."

She swings her legs off the bed, leaning toward me. "You can't make me do a goddamn thing."

"Fine." I expected this to happen. I have a plan in place, so I remain calm. "I can't make you do anything." I slide down the door until I'm sitting against it, raising my legs and letting my hands rest on my knees. "I can wait until you're ready to work through whatever shit is going on in your mind. I'll sit right here with you."

"You are blocking my door," she growls. "You show up to my fucking apartment without warning, demand I pack up my whole life, and then block my door when I say no? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Something tells me you didn't have many plans today anyway, Lele. In fact, I'd be hard-pressed to believe you have any plans any day," I say simply. Her nostrils flare, but she turns her head away from me. "I think you sit here and let yourself rot , and you're afraid to come home because you don't want the rest of us to see it—but the thing is, Elena, we do. We feel you dying from the inside out. I feel it, right here." I point at my chest. She refuses to look at me, jaw trembling as she stares at the wall. "We hear it in your voice, in the silence you leave when you don't answer our calls. We don't have to see it. We know.

"I can understand your fears, but you've got to try understanding mine too. Imagine if the roles were reversed, and you were in my shoes? Imagine if Leo was refusing to attend your wedding?"

I watch a tear roll down her cheek, and she bats it away, thinking I didn't see it.

I don't tell her about Leo's ultimatum, because I know it'd only make things worse. Elena's too damn stubborn to be swayed by something like that. She'd challenge him to give up on her and play into all of his fears. She's afraid those in her life expect the worst from her, and her defensive nature causes her to try and live up to those expectations when she feels cornered.

"You know if I had told you I was coming, you would've tried to get me out of it. You would've found some excuse to keep me away, to avoid any conversation of you coming home. You know that, Lele." She still doesn't look at me. "I'll sit here until you're ready to talk, until you're ready to go and face whatever it is you're so afraid of. But I'm not leaving without you."

She looks at me now, angry tears glistening in her eyes.

"You'd do the same for me."

Her features soften just noticeably, and she gives me a shallow nod, her only glimpse of understanding. But she says nothing, leaning against the wall behind her bed and closing her eyes.

We sit in silence.

"I don't do it on purpose." The words come out on a cracked whisper, startling me from my thoughts.

Thoughts about Dahlia, if I'm being honest. What she's doing. What she ate today. If she's missing me as much as I'm missing her. Fuck. I'm in deep.

I don't know how much time passed in silence, but I do know my ass is numb from sitting on my sister's floor. I look up at her, finding her on her side, head resting on her pillow as she faces me.

"Don't do what on purpose?" I ask.

"Avoid you guys. Avoiding coming home." She swallows. "I…I just feel so tired all the time, and sometimes, the thought of making small talk, or pretending I had a good day, or that I'm doing anything with my life is too much. I watch my phone ring with you, or Mom, or Leo, and I'm so fucking tired. I can't get myself to answer."

"I understand. We all understand," I respond softly. "You could always tell us that."

"You'd worry."

"We're already worried."

She sighs. "I've tried coming home. Last year for Mother's Day, I'd booked my flight and everything. I hailed a cab, got halfway to the airport, and then asked him to turn around. The thought of getting on the plane, spending all that time alone in the air, and then stepping foot back in California after so long…" She shakes her head, eyes glazing over with some faraway memory. "It felt too heavy. I couldn't bring myself to even try again."

Those words gut me, but I try not to let it show.

"I get it. This time, you won't be alone."

She looks so…numb. She refers to her feelings as heavy and tiring but can't seem to associate them with any emotion, like she doesn't know how to feel at all. She looks so small in her bed, surrounded by heaps of blankets, staring across the room but seeing nothing.

My mind reels backward as a sense of déjà vu floods me.

"Get out of bed, Elena. Please ."

"She needs more time, Everett," my mother says, voice breaking with tears as she stands in the doorway.

My sister has been wasting away in the guest room of my apartment for two weeks now. She doesn't eat. I don't think she sleeps. Doesn't read or write. Certainly doesn't shower. She doesn't even speak. She stares at the wall, seeing nothing.

She didn't go to her apartment. Not the place she last spoke to him.

Not my parent's house—her childhood bedroom, the place she spent her whole life loving him.

She came to my house, somewhere safe, with as little association to Zach as possible. I welcomed her at first. I needed her. I let her wallow. Stare at the wall. Rot away if that's what she wanted. But when she didn't show up to the funeral, when she refused every meal I made for her, when she ignored my parents' calls— I hit my limit.

The only time I've seen any ounce of emotion from her is when August tried to visit. A rage I'd never seen her possess flashed across her face.

" Keep him the fuck away from me, " she'd said.

Everyone told me to give her space. Give her time. She'd come around eventually.

It has been over two weeks since Zach's death, and as unfamiliar as we are with grief, I know this isn't fucking normal. She's not even in this room. She might as well be dead too. I feel her more deeply than they do, so I don't give a shit what my parents or my brother say.

She needs to get the fuck up.

"Elena, please. Take a shower. Go for a walk. Do something."

Dead eyes and silence are my only response.

"C'mon, Lena. For us," Leo murmurs from beside me, tears streaming down his face.

"Talk to me. Look at me." I grab her face, tilting her head to face me. Nothing. "Fucking do something, Elena!"

My fear and hopelessness hit their boiling point, rage spilling over. The smallest flash of recognition passes through her eyes, but it's gone an instant later.

On my knees next to her bed, I hold her limp hand. My face falls into the mattress, and for the first time since I was told my best friend died, I cry.

Because I think I lost my sister too.

I can't ever let her get back to that place, and the way she looks right now is hitting too fucking close.

"We shouldn't have let it go on this long, Lele," I say. "We hoped starting over somewhere new would heal you, but it's clear you're not healing at all. We should've been here for you more."

"I didn't want you to be," she whispers.

"I know." I nod. "And we should've realized it's not always about what you want; it's about what you need." I scoot across the floor until I'm sitting in front of her bed and she has no choice but to look at me. "And you need to come home." I take her hand in mine. "You're not alone this time. I'll be with you. I'm here to help."

"What if I can't? What if I get in the cab, or get to the airport, and I can't do it?"

"Then we'll come back here and start again, as many times as you need. But I'm not going home without you."

She runs her fingers across the flowers tattooed on my hand.

"Plus, it'd be really unfair to leave Leo all alone out there with Mom and Dad. They're far too suffocating to be one-child kind of parents."

A soft laugh filters out her mouth, and I breathe easier at the sound of it.

"What about my stuff?"

I smile, feeling hope rise in my chest. "We'll pack tonight. I've got some guys coming by tomorrow morning who will get it shipped home for you."

"Tomorrow morning? How were you so sure I'd say yes that quickly?"

"Hope, Lele." I tap her nose, and she swats my hand away, hiding a smile. "You'll find it again soon too."

She gives me an eye roll that says she's unconvinced, but I'm not. We all let ourselves wither away the last few years, but as I've rediscovered what it means to live for something, I refuse to allow my sister to have any other outcome. Leo found healing in waves and in Darby. I found it in our businesses, in Dahlia and Lou. Elena needs to find her way back to words. She needs to write again and rediscover the one thing she was put on this earth to be: an author.

She may refuse to search for hope on her own, but Elena has always been stubborn. Sometimes, she just needs someone to push her out of the boxes she places herself in, and I've forgotten that I'm uniquely qualified to do just that.

She needs her home. Her family. She needs to fix whatever shit happened between herself and August. Once she finds that hope, I know she'll be okay.