Page 63 of Of Sinners & Salvation
“How long has it been?” I ask, trying not to be hurt that she didn’t even call.
“A little under a year. Don’t be mad, Heath. Please. I would have gone home, I just… I just didn’t. Maybe I was scared.”
“Scared of what?” I ask. “Nothing’s been the same since you left. Our family, our friends… We were devastated. You think we wouldn’t want you to come home? No matter what happened to you, you can always come home.”
“It’s not that,” she mutters. “It’s just… I’m not the person I was then, Heath. I’m not the person you lost. You’d welcome her back, but me? I don’t know if you’d like who I’ve become.”
I nod, thinking that over, remembering what Duke Dolce said outside the church after Christmas. I lean toward her, and she leans in, and we press our shoulders together. “I had that same fear about you,” I admit. “We’ve all changed. We were all changed by it, even if we didn’t have to know the same horrors you did. Mom and Dad too. But we’re still blood.”
“Even if yours is tainted,” she jokes half-heartedly.
“Finnegans forever,” I say, linking my pinkie through hers.
She squeezes tight. “Finnegans forever.”
A drop splatters onto the pavement, leaving a wet circle.
“No matter who you are, you’ll always be my sister,” I say, anchoring myself to her, our fingers locked together. “I love you no matter what, E.”
“I know,” she says. “Same. No matter who you are now.”
“About that,” I say. “I wanted to tell you something.”
She nods and takes out her pack of cigarettes again.
“I… I’m bi,” I say. “I like guys too.”
It feels strange saying the words aloud, the ones I’ve rolled around in my head for years but never told anyone, not even the people who know. I want to say it again, to try it out again and see if it’s easier, more normal and less awkward.
“Cool,” she says, nodding as she lights up.
“I like guys, and girls, and… Really anything works for me. I’m an equal opportunity fucker.” I’m babbling, a giddiness having taken hold now that I got to say it out loud. I didn’t expect it to feel so good.
She’s quiet a minute and then, “My turn?”
“Are you going to ask if I’m a top or a bottom?”
“No,” she says, scowling. “I was going to ask if you’re seeing anyone right now. I figured that’s why you told me.”
“As a matter of fact, I am,” I say, unable to keep the smile from my face. I must have been nervous for her reaction, for the judgment I’d get when I said it aloud. That’s what held me back from saying it to anyone for so long. I like that she’s the first person I’ve told. Now that the pressure has lifted, I feel myself expand, filled with euphoria. So I add, “A couple someones, in fact.”
“That sounds… Messy.”
“Or lucky,” I say with a wink. “I get the best of both worlds.”
“If that’s what you call it,” she says, seeming to have relaxed into this new revelation with me. “Still sounds messy to me. I know I couldn’t do it.”
“Well, lucky for you, you don’t have to,” I say. “Guess we both have that Irish luck.”
“Yeah, sounds like it,” she mutters, blowing out smoke. “I don’t do mess. But you know, it sounds like just the kind of chaos you always loved. So I think it’ll work out great for you.”
“Don’t act like this is goodbye,” I say. “You’ll be around to see all the chaos firsthand. Won’t you?”
This is the first time I’ve considered that she wouldn’t want to come home with us. We were coming to rescue her, after all. I never considered she didn’t need rescuing. The pit in my stomach is back, and it’s not just a chasm, it’s a black hole. I can’t lose her again. I just found her.
She rubs her heel against the pavement again and flicks the ash off her cigarette. “I have a few things to take care of here,” she says. “But then…”
“What things?” I demand.
