“Yeah, well, it was always supposed to be the two of us,” I said. “What’s the point of having a sibling if you can’t hang out, right?” I said it like it was a casual thing, like I was simply pointing out how things were supposed to be if we followed the script, but I knew he could see through it and understand that, somewhere along the way in him growing up and discovering his ability, he’d abandoned me.

“I needed to do my own thing for a while,” he explained. “But I’m not that person anymore.”

“So who are you?” I asked, twisting the tassels on the throw blanket under me into braids so that I didn’t have to look at him. This was the most open and vulnerable conversation we’d had in what felt like years and I was terrified of moving too suddenly and breaking everything apart.

“I’m a guy who’s just trying to do something nice for his family because it feels like everything’s gone to shit?” he said and I looked up at that to see a soft smile on his face, one I didn’t see very much anymore.

“Wanna help me?” he asked and I nodded.

“Good,” he said, getting up with a heavy sigh. “I need money.”

“Oh, so that’s what this was all about,” I said, rolling my eyes and feeling back on more certain territory. “And we almost just had a nice moment.”

“We did have a nice moment, Rosie,” he said, smiling. “So don’t ruin it.”

“How much?” I asked lightly.

“Not sure yet,” he said. “I’m still looking up RV rental prices.”

“Ooh, are we traveling in style?” I asked.

“I think a true road trip could be nice.” He nodded, looking pleased with himself. “Just start saving.”

I’m going to. I’m going to pick up more shifts and look up fun places to go and spend the summer with my family, doing my absolute best to be the person we all wish I could be. Second acts, right?

April 10th, 2017

Dear Mark,

You’re never going to get this letter. You’re never going to get any of the letters I’ve written to you. I guess I could mail them, when I’m somewhere far, far away, but I don’t think … I don’t think that would be fair.

I’m trying to learn. To be better, the way you wanted me to be. The way that so many people have wanted me to be.

I talked to Sam earlier. Not how I expected my day to go.