Page 117 of Let It Be Me

“No, man! What does that even mean?”

He shakes his head disapprovingly, his gaze dropping to the can of soda between his feet. “This isn’t supposed to be my job.”

“Dude, I’m going to strangle you if you don’t start making sense.”

A wry smile crosses his face. “You and me are not cousins.”

His eyes meet mine, a finality in his gaze that I know is supposed to have some kind of dramatic effect, but I don’t understand. “What?”

“My parents adopted me.”

I pull back, watching for a flash of humor on his face, because he has to be joking. When his expression remains serious, I find myself stumbling over thoughts. “But—I mean, you look exactly like us.” I laugh awkwardly.

Now he does smile a little bit, but there’s no humor behind it. “Yeah.” He nods. “They adopted me from your parents.”

The words don’t make sense. It’s a full sentence, but my brain finds no meaning in it.

Anthony blinks and his expression turns solemn. “We’re brothers, Lorenzo.”

We stare at each other for what feels like minutes but probably isn’t. Suddenly I’m aware of how hard my heart is beating. “If you’re fucking with me?—”

“Do you think I’m fucking with you?” He stares at me with dark brown eyes that look exactly like mine.

“Your parents are ... my parents?” I ask quietly.

He nods.

I remember to breathe, and out of nowhere I’m breathing like I just came off a sprint. “I don’t get this.” I look out at the street, at the cars whizzing by way too fast, the students walking by on their way to dinner or coming home from class. My mind races. “Why would they do that? Parents don’t just give their babies away to their sister. And why do you know about this and I don’t?”

“I found out by accident a couple years ago, around the time you went away to school. Believe me, I wish I never did.”

“Why would they do that?”

“There’s a whole story. A sob story, really, to hear them tell it. Actually,” he adds, “to hear them tell it, it was fate. Fucking bullshit.”

I stand and start pacing the sidewalk in front of the steps. “What’s the story?”

“Let them tell it. That’s not my job.”

“Fucking CliffsNotes version, Anthony? Jesus Christ, can you help me out?”

“All right. Your parents were dirt poor and already struggling with you. Your mom—our mom?—had that depression thing women sometimes get after they have a baby, I guess. And you were still new and a shitty baby by all accounts, and then suddenly they’ve got a second kid on the way. And my parents couldn’t get pregnant and boom—they saw the solution.”

“That’s fucked up. That’s really fucked up.”

He nods. “Yeah.”

We’re brothers.I hear the words again. And even though it’s obvious he’s not messing with me, it can’t be true. Families don’t get any more boring and average than ours. We don’t have secrets like this.

“Can we get out of here, please?” I feel like I’m suffocating. “Go for a drive?”

Ant shrugs and stands up. “Let’s go.”

Anthony does the driving. It reminds me of all the nights when there was nothing to do except get in trouble or drive Lakeside aimlessly and, thinking about our football teams, we opted to drive.

“Were they ever going to tell us?” I ask, staring out the window.

“They said they planned to when we were in elementary school. Just didn’t happen.”

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