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He shrugs yet again.“You’ve got a nice place.”

“It’s tiny.Mom doesn’t like the direction I face, either.Can’t remember why, but she doesn’t.”

“Mom needs to chill out.”

“Sneak some CBD oil into her congee.”

He laughs.

“You know it’s not that simple,” I say.“If I have a boyfriend, they’ll just bother me about different things.Like wedding planning.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”He pauses.“Are you just not built for romance, like me?”

I nearly say yes, but I get the feeling he means it in a different way than I do.

This isn’t what I expected, and I wonder how well I really know my brother.Not that we’ve ever been close, but still.

“I don’t object to theideaof romance,” I say slowly, “but the reality of it.”

Freddie mumbles something else about the patriarchy.

“My relationships always end up pissing the shit out of me,” I tell him.“I want a guy who supports me.Who won’t expect me to do three-quarters of the housework if we move in together, while expecting to be repeatedly praised for the tiny amount he does.”

“I hope you find it.”

“I’m not looking for it anymore.”

But for some reason, I think of Max.

I turn toward my brother.He hasn’t told me exactly how he identifies, but… “I get it, Freddie.I’m glad you told me.”I place my hand on top of his.

He smiles at me before passing over the joint.“Thanks.”

Freddie takes out his phone and starts watching cat videos, so I take out my phone, too.I find myself going to Instagram and checking if Max has an account.

He does!

I’m somewhat surprised.I thought he’d be one of those people who look down on social media.He doesn’t post very much, though.A few pictures around Toronto, some pictures of food.I follow him and send him a message.Heyyyy.

He follows me and messages me back not five minutes later.

Max:Hi

Me:You’re on Instagram!Are you on TikTok too?If so, I won’t tell.Your secret’s safe with me.

Max:Right

Me:So you ARE on TikTok?

Max:Of course not.

Me:What are you doing tonight, if you’re not making TikTok videos?

Max:Ironing my underwear like a normal person.

Is that a joke?I’m not entirely sure.I think back to his discarded boxer briefs on the night of Tessa and Malcolm’s wedding.Were those ironed?But if he’d been wearing them all day, how would I be able to tell?And while he irons his underwear, is he wearing nothing below the waist, like Winnie-the-Pooh?

I giggle.