Page 90 of Love and Lies

Jess’s face darkened for a moment. “That… isn’t going to happen. Harper would be ready to sell. But only if I’m fully in. And I can’t promise him that.”

I knew why: because he wanted to leave again. Get out of New York as soon as possible. My stomach lurched unpleasantly when I thought of his moving back to Australia, or somewhere else. It was silly; I wasn’t even supposed to be here. But I liked being around him so much. It wasn’t just that I could be one hundred percent myself with Jess, he also gave me a feeling of peace and calm—which was crazy, seeing how he couldn’t find that himself in this city.

“That’s a real shame,” I said, gesturing toward his plate. “People would have been banging the door down.”

Jess’s mouth twitched into an easy smile. “I’m sorry to have to tell you, but nowhere on the planet is lasagna served as a breakfast food.”

“Not yet,” I corrected him. “I think that needs to be rectified immediately.”

“You sound like Adam. He would have eaten lasagna any time of day.”

I heard the sadness in his voice and realized why Jess had made lasagna today—because it was Adam’s favorite food. “I didn’t know that,” I said quietly, my eyes on him. “That he liked it best.”

“Yeah, it was his absolute favorite, since he was little. When our dad asked us what we wanted to eat, Adam always asked for lasagna. One time, Dad made it for us for a whole week, hoping Adam would get sick of it. Not a chance. He scarfed it down with glee for seven days in a row, then was so disappointed when there was none left on Monday.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I can see where he’s coming from—especially judging by the one we just ate. If your dad was half as good a cook as you, I’d have begged him to make me lasagna too.”

“He couldn’t cook at all.” Still that sad smile. “My dad could burn water. He either got food delivered from his restaurants, or we went there to eat. And when I was a little older and went to live with him, I started cooking for us. At first I wasn’t very good, but Dad ate it anyway. I think he was pleased when I finally got good, though. Food was something that brought us together.”

Until he died, I thought, but I didn’t say it out loud. Jess had had to deal with so many losses in his life, and yet he didn’t sit here in front of me bitter and broken. I admired him for it—for staying true to himself despite everything. I could see it every time I looked in his eyes.

“What is it?” he asked softly, when he saw the look on my face.

“Nothing,” I replied, lowering my gaze for a moment, but then I looked up at him again. “I’m just glad I knocked on your door tonight.”

He smiled, and this time there was nothing sad about it.

“So am I.”

41 Jessiah

Much later that evening, I was still sitting with Helena up on the roof terrace, with the lights on all around us and the wonderful feeling of not being quite so alone in New York City for a change. I could feel fatigue beginning to take hold, but I wasn’t ready to go in yet. Neither of us were; we were telling stories about Valerie, Adam, and my dad—in other words, doing exactly what we should have been doing on a day like today: remembering those we had lost. Suppressing the grief and memories like Helena’s family did wasn’t right—and neither was spiraling into anger and blame like my mother. It was only by sharing your grief that you could start to heal. Bit by bit.

We’d moved closer and closer together as the hours went by; we’d laughed and cried in equal amounts, although as the night passed, the laughter dominated more and more, especially when Helena was telling me about all of her sister’s crazy ideas. Like on Helena’s thirteenth birthday, when Valerie had persuaded thirteen of her friends and acquaintances to show up to her party dressed as her childhood heroes.

“I’m beginning to understand why Adam was so crazy about Valerie,” I said when she’d finished the story. “Although she must have been the complete opposite of him.”

“Maybe that’s why.” Helena nodded. “He was quiet; she was always on the move. He was careful; she was fearless. I think she was only ever afraid of one thing.”

“What was that?”

“Losing someone close to her.” Helena looked me in the eye. “That’s why she always took such good care of me when we went out together. So I didn’t run into the wrong people, didn’t get involved with drugs…”

I smiled. “Sounds like she was an amazing big sister.”

“She was the best.” Helena pressed a hand to her mouth but couldn’t stop a sob from escaping.

I moved closer and put my arms around her, holding her tight, sensing how much better we both felt for it. As though just being together made it easier to bear the pain. But when the moment was over, I didn’t want to let go, and she obviously felt the same. She nestled into me, her head on my shoulder, her hand on my chest, directly over my slightly-too-fast heartbeat.

“I miss her so much, Jess,” she whispered. “I miss her endlessly.”

“I know,” I muttered, pressing a gentle kiss to her head. “I can tell how much you loved her.”

“She made my life brighter,” she said softly. “I have no idea how, but she did. Of course, we used to fight too—she used to piss me off like crazy sometimes. But then she would always pull a silly face and say, Come on, Lenny, let’s go get something to eat at Le Charlot. And that would be it.”

I knew exactly what she meant. We took our siblings for granted a lot of the time; they were always there, and we assumed they always would be. The fact that our parents would probably die first was something we all had to come to terms with at some point in our lives, but I’d thought my brother would always be there for me.

“They were happy before they died, weren’t they?” I asked Helena quietly. She knew the answer much better than I did, sadly.