I’ve offered a couple times. Just to be nice. There’s not a lot of comfortable seating in this cramped space. But he always chooses either the desk chair or the floor.

“It was a princess party,” I start to explain. His brows knot the more I talk. “And Ellie wanted a real princess downstairs. She sees me as her kind of geeky older sister, so she asked if I could stay upstairs, and my mom hired another girl to be the elder princess.”

A long wave of silence passes.

“So you couldn’t go downstairs?” he asks like he’s still confused.

“I wasn’t…a princess…” I say slowly. “It makes more sense if you know my sister.” I push up my glasses and stretch my mind to that vivid memory. “She took the theme of her party really seriously.”

“Sounds like she was channeling a character from Cinderella.”

I smile weakly. “She’s six-years-old. She doesn’t know any better.”

“What about your mom? Does she know better?”

A sharp pang punctures my heart. I must wear a pained expression because he says, “Sorry”—and I shake my head like it’s alright.

I haven’t talked to my mom as much as I would like. Our conversations are so stilted anyway. She won’t open up to me. She just says, it’s not your place. You’re the child. It’s about us—doesn’t she realize this?

I’d like to know why she goes quiet every time I utter Lo’s name. Not just facts—I have some of those—but her feelings. He’s her child. Why wouldn’t she want to know him? Just a little more. And is she sad that I’m gone? Is she happy?

But I’m just the child.

“My mom,” I say casually, “sided with the birthday girl. Which is only fair, it was her birthday.”

Garrison does this thing where he groans without even opening his mouth, and I can hear the deep rumble in his throat.

“You don’t agree?”

He shakes his head and retrieves a cigarette again. “It seems kind of fucked up.”

I try to view the situation from his stance, and I think I can. I just don’t want to.

“Can I ask you something now?” I wonder.

Garrison nods.

I open my mouth but struggle to broach his questionnaire. I actually pale again, and my neck heats. “Um…it’s about one of your answers.”

“Which one?” He doesn’t sound surprised.

“Hiatus?” I quickly add, “Not that I care. I mean, I care out of…curiosity, but your relationship status can be whatever you want it to be.” When I look up, the corners of his lips are lifting.

“I know what you meant.” Still sitting, he rolls on the desk chair. Until he’s positioned right across from me. “I’ve been on-and-off with this girl at Dalton who wants absolutely nothing to do with me now, so…” He shrugs like it is what it is. “There’s my hiatus.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Not like I probably should. And for the record, at the time, I thought—maybe if Frankie and my friends forgave me, I’d think about…”