Page 66 of I'll Look for You, Everywhere
‘He didn’t tell me everything.’ She crosses her legs and inches closer to me, concern welling in her eyes. ‘I basically had to force it out of him.’
‘He told me not to tell you.’ How could I have listened to him so religiously? So afraid that she would find out and he would be disappointed that I broke his cardinal rule.
‘Don’t do that, come on.’ Anika crawls on her knees until she’s draped over me like heavy mink. Warm. Cosy. She’s slightly sticky from all the sunscreen lathered on her body but she wraps her hands around my shoulders, embracing me so tightly, I’m lost in vanilla and Coppertone 8.
‘I’m so sorry.’ I don’t register I’m crying until she’s rocking me back and forth, soothing me, whispering gently between comforting coos. ‘It’s okay, Maggie. Please, it’ll always be okay.’
‘He was so mean,’ I hear myself saying in a heavy exhale, snot and tears now dripping down my face. The words feel hooked inside me; saying them out loud feels like tearing apart pieces of me.
‘Fuck him.’ Anika curls around me, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing, trying, without knowing, to stitch the puncture together again.
‘He’s your brother!’ I sob even more.
‘That doesn’t mean he’s always right. Listen, Mag, Theo was born good, there’s no denying that. But, shit, man. There’s so much you don’t know about him. There’re things even I don’t know about him. Things that eat him up all the time. He cried, the day before he left for Yale, did you know that? Sobbed all night. It went on for ever, and I thought he was going to pass out from crying so much. I stayed with him the entire time and thought that gorgeous face was permanently tear-stained. But not once did he tell me why he was crying. I begged. I begged for hours, Maggie. Not a peep. So what I’m saying is... What the fuck am I even saying?’
I sniffle, looking at Anika lost in the memory of herself and Theo. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘Of course not, no one does. He’d literally kill me if he knew I was telling you.’
‘Do you have any idea what it could have been about?’ My own sadness feels far away. Tucked in the luggage across the room. I’m desperate to know more about Theo.
‘Whatever it is, I’m sure my father is to blame.’
‘Yeah, we don’t talk about him a lot, do we?’
‘We shouldn’t have to,’ Anika answers sharply. ‘He’s only been friends with your saint of a father for twenty years. You would think...’ She stops mid-sentence, lost in thought. ‘You would think just a little of that would rub off on him.’
‘My father’s not perfect.’
‘Mag.’ She turns her head to me, her eyes burning into mine. ‘Your father is absolutely perfect.’
This time, I don’t try to deny it. ‘Why did you never tell me how bad he got?’ I search for her hands, wrapping them tightly in my own.
‘Because,’ she says, and sighs, settling her head on my shoulder, ‘all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well,’ she singsongs.
We sit there on the floor of the blue bedroom, her prayer ringing in our ears. I think of Theo crying again and shut my eyes.
‘Mother Julian of Norwich?’
I feel her nod against me. ‘Found a postcard with that quote a few years ago in one of the euro bins at the market. I really liked it. Helps me when things get tough.’
Tough? I swallow hard. Knowing if I try to broach the subject she’ll spook, the only way she knows how. Deflect with a joke or turn the radio on and dance the question off.
‘You know, I tried to make her my confirmation saint,’ I say instead.
‘No way.’ Anika’s head pops off my shoulder to look at me, eyes lit up.
‘Very much way. My mother said she didn’t count, so I went with Saint Angela.’
‘I never knew that!’
‘That’s why it’s freaky!’ I giggle despite myself. Amused that we’re geeking out over saints.
‘I love being freaky with you.’ She rests her head back on my shoulder, nuzzling her temple against my skin. ‘It makes me feel like everything will be alright.’
‘You’re my favourite freak. I love you so much.’ My throat tightens, tears threatening to resurface if I think too hard about her. About how often I avoided calling during university. How little I wondered if she was okay. I make a mental note to worry more for her. To remember that she can dance and be sad, too.
‘Me more. And because I love you, I need you to know that Theo is... Theo is more like my father than he cares to admit.’
