Page 37 of Felix

“You really don’t want to know,” I mutter.

“Don’t wanna know what?” Henry asks, returning from the restroom and plopping into the booth next to me. Our younger brother looks between me and Rebecca.

“Whatever had Emil’s face going all…” Rebecca rests her chin in her hands and bats her eyelashes.

“That was not my face,” I retort.

“Was, too,” Rebecca says. “I bet you were thinking about boys.”

I groan, and Henry goes, “Ew.”

“What?” our sister says, looking at Henry. “I’m sure your face goes all schmoopy when you think about boys or girls you like.”

Henry shakes his head, taking a sip of his soda. “Nope. Don’t care about all that. Sex makes people stupid.”

Rebecca shoots me a look, eyebrows raised.

“Henry,” I say slowly. “I’m sure Mom and Dad have already talked about this, but if you’re sexually active—”

“Like I said, ew,” Henry cuts in. “Not interested. Pass the ketchup?”

Rebecca passes the bottle, eyes meeting mine again. Henry is fourteen, and I know he already started going through changes a couple years back. He’s well into the early teenage years of rampantly running hormones where sex might be on the mind. It was on mine when I was his age.

But maybe, for Henry, that’s not the case. I wonder if our parents have thought to talk to him about the spectrum of asexuality.

I mull it over as my siblings bicker about Thanksgiving this year and whether Dad should cook ham or turkey.

When we leave the diner, it’s early afternoon. I drive my sister back to her boarding school where Henry and I picked her up from a few hours ago. Rebecca doesn’t live far from home. It’s only a two hour drive, and she could have opted for a weekday-only boarding option. But, overachiever that my sister is, she decided on full-time so she could enroll in extracurriculars on the weekends.

I’m just glad she didn’t choose a school further away. It would have made an impromptu visit like this much harder.

When I park the car, Rebecca leans over to give me a hug. “Thanks, Emil.”

“What for?” I ask, patting her arm.

She leans back into her seat with an exasperated look on her face. “For coming, you doof.”

Oh. Well, I don’t tell Rebecca I was a little worried about her after our phone call. She looks good, though. Happy. Even if she is missing home at times.

“No problem,” I tell her. “We’ll see you at Thanksgiving?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she says, turning to look into the backseat. “See ya, little bro.”

Henry waves a hand, gaze never straying from his handheld game.

Rebecca rolls her eyes. “Later.”

“Take care, Bec.”

I watch Rebecca head into her dormitory before easing the car out of the parking spot. Henry keeps playing his game.

I often wonder why my parents waited so long between having me and Rebecca. Julian is the oldest of us at thirty-one. Eloise is next at twenty-seven. That puts four years between the two of them, as well as between me and Eloise. But there’s a seven-year gap from me to Rebecca. And only two between her and Henry.

My mom told me they were happy with three kids. That they didn’t want to try for more. Until they did.

I couldn’t help but wonder, especially when I was young, if that was because of me. If, maybe, I turned out not to be what they wanted from a third child.

Realistically, I know that’s not the case, only my insecurities talking. My parents love me. They’ve never asked me to be anything I’m not. But rationality and feeling don’t always go hand in hand.

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