“Here you go.” The bartender replaced my empty double vodka glass with a fresh one I would finish in the next three minutes.

As I looked at Emma, somewhat dumbfounded, the music changed. “Ballad of Maxwell Demon,” by Shudder to Think, started playing. Two years ago, back at the lake, Liam had been obsessing about Velvet Goldmine and was absolutely addicted to this song. Emma and I went immediately silent, remaining that way until Iggy Pop’s “Lust for Life” came on, and she and I could finally breathe.

I noticed how pale she looked. “Emma—”

“I didn’t know,” she said, almost in a whisper.

“Know what?”

“I didn’t. I swear,” she said, looking borderline afraid. “Otherwise, I would’ve come back.”

“Yeah, I’ve no idea what we’re talking about.”

“My mother told me about you. How you just got back from the hospital—”

“Oh, that—”

“Today!” she said, almost yelling. “She casually mentioned it as she drank a fucking mimosa. I almost slapped her.”

I shrugged. “Emma, it’s—”

“Today, Thomas. It’s not okay. I can’t believe they kept something like this from me all this time.”

“I don’t think they meant to—”

“Oh, they meant to. This is just the sort of twisted shit they’d pull. It’s so fucking typical—”

“Emma.”

“I would’ve come back. Had I known, I wouldn’t have stayed away for all this time.”

“That’s great, Emma, but—”

“What?” she said, still mad.

“It’s been years.” I tried to sound as kind as possible. “It’s okay.”

“You could’ve told me.”

I gave her my best are-you-fucking-serious? look.

“Or Jane. She could’ve said something; it wasn’t like I disappeared.”

“You kinda did, dude.”

She looked so sad.

“I’m not saying it to make you feel bad,” I said. “I wish I could’ve done the same; don’t get me wrong—”

“Don’t say that.”

“None of us knew what to do, Emma. Not you, not me. Certainly not our parents.”

“Can I get two more?” She turned to the bartender.

“Me too, please.”

The girl looked at Emma, then at me, and nodded before turning around and fixing our drinks.

“I met someone,” Emma confessed.

“Yeah?” I leaned in.

She looked almost insulted. “In group. Leave it to me to find someone in a support group.”

“Is he—”

“Patient? Yes, he is.”

I just looked at her.

“I hate your brother, you know,” she said.

“I know. I kinda hate him too.”

Before she let herself cry, the bartender brought us our four double vodkas. Emma basically drank one in a single gulp, and at that exact moment, my phone lit up.

“Is it him?” she asked as I unlocked my phone.

I want to kiss you again

I instantly grinned.

“It is him,” she said, suddenly sounding like herself again.

Please do

“Are you seeing him tonight?” Emma asked, moving on to her second glass.