Twenty-Three: Stubborn Old Mule.

"I am very interested and fascinated by how everyone loves each other, but no one really likes each other.”

-Charlie, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

I couldn't stop smiling.

When I walked home on Saturday, I was smiling. As I went out to do my Christmas shopping, I was smiling. When I went to sleep, I was smiling.

On Sunday morning, I woke up smiling.

I guess that's just the way it is, when you find out that the person you like feels the same way. It's a mix of butterfly nervousness and diamond excitement and a giddy anticipation that crawls out of your stomach to mercilessly tickle your heart. And while it sounds uncomfortable, it's actually a breathtaking feeling, and I wonder if maybe it's how all those bands in the sixties felt when they were writing those crazy songs, except, y'know, that was drug-induced and this was completely natural.

My aunt and uncle noticed, of course. They don't always pay much too attention to me, but I guess it's hard not to notice when someone who lives in your house is grinning uncontrollably. It wasn't helping that every time I tried to be serious, I'd think of you and my lips would stretch out again without any consent from my brain whatsoever.

It was hopeless, really.

Breakfast was an excruciating interrogation, as my aunt reached a new level of multitasking by bombarding me with questions while simultaneously burning a batch of French toast. Uncle Dill snorted and sipped coffee through it all, and I did my best to focus on completing a Sudoku puzzle in the newspaper which, in all honesty, I had no idea how to do. I figured that if Aunt Sheridan's food was too disgusting, I could sustain myself by eating the newsprint.

As a last resort.

"It's Ellery, isn't it?" Aunt Sheridan prodded, waving a spatula in my direction. "Isn't it, Sam? Is she finally your girlfriend?"

I replied with a messy mumble, because I really didn't know the answer to the question myself. I had no idea where the line between friend and girlfriend was drawn, and even though I figured kissing was a good point for it to turn over, I was pretty sure that there had to be some formal Facebook status-changing or something in order to make it completely official.

Eventually, I guess Aunt Sheridan realized that she wouldn't be getting a straight answer anytime soon, so she banished me to the living room to wrap my cousins' presents. I didn't want to wrap presents, I wanted to see you. I wanted to pull you close and kiss you in the snow, and most of all I wanted you to stay in my life forever because I suddenly wasn't sure how I'd ever be able to manage without you.

Not that you were gone; it's just that you had church in the morning and family time in the afternoon and a final Nutcracker performance in the evening, which really left no time to spend with maybe-boyfriends in the midst of it.

It was really hurting my head, trying to figure out where we stood now. But I had to wrap presents, and I thought that might help take my mind off it.

"And while you're at it," added Aunt Sheridan, "call your sister, would you? She still hasn't said whether or not she's coming up for Christmas."

I mumbled something about how there was a phone right there, do it yourself why don't you, but I really didn't mind calling my older sister. Since she moved down to California for college two years ago, I'd only been seeing her about three times a year, and lately she'd even been "too busy" for her usual weekly calls. She was a dope so I'd never admit it, but I really did miss her sometimes.

I dialed while collecting our assorted medley of wrapping paper and tried to gather them all in one hand as the phone rung. There was soon a click of answering, but the first thing I heard was a yawn, and my sister's voice didn't come through till I'd dumped the rolls onto the couch.

“What?” she snapped. Typical response when she's woken up.

“Ashley, it's Sam,” I replied, unfazed.

“I know it's Sam, you turd, I have caller ID.” There was the creak of springs, another yawn. “Why the hell are you calling this early?”

It was ten A.M. I told her so. She snorted.

“Exactly. Way too early.”

I could imagine her sitting there, pulling at her blonde hair with her face twisted up like it used to on Christmas mornings when we were little I'd run into her room and scream purely for the sake of being obnoxious. She'd had a Nerf gun under her bed, and she'd chase me out with it, shooting all the while.

But that's when we were little, and things were different now.

Ashley sighed. “So...wanna tell me why you called? It'd better be important.”

I was about to answer when another voice materialized through the speaker at my ear: a tired male voice that mumbled the words, “Who is it, babe?”

My sister responded calmly: “Just my little brother; go back to sleep.” There was the sloppy sound of a kiss, then a rustling and creak of floorboards as my sister stood up. I'd never seen her apartment, but I could see her shuffling out of the room, arms crossed, to take my call somewhere else.

“Ash,” I said slowly, “who was that?”

Pause. Then, “No one, Sam. It doesn't matter.”

My eyes darted around and I ducked in front of the couch, though I doubted my aunt and uncle were within hearing distance or cared enough to listen. “It absolutely matters if there's some random guy in your bed,” I hissed. “What the hell are you doing with yourself now?”

There was another beat of silence, but this one was longer and this time, there was a sharp intake of breath from her end of the line. I knew immediately that I'd crossed some boundary, but it was too late to pull my words back.

“I'm living my life is what I'm doing with myself, Sam,” she sneered, louder than I expected. “In case you've forgotten, you're my younger brother. I'm twenty years old and perfectly capable of doing whatever I want, thank you very much.” She scoffed. “Oh, and by the way, he's not 'some random guy', he's my boyfriend.”

I didn't know she had a boyfriend. The last time I'd talked to her was over a month ago, and I thought she would have called to tell us. She always used to tell us big news before. I wasn't sure what had changed.

“Oh.” I licked my lips. “Well, sorry.”

“Whatever.”

I didn't think I knew who my sister was anymore, but I wanted to pretend that she was still the same Ashley who had left for college two years ago. So I just glossed over that final spat word with a quiet cough and tried to steer back to the original conversation.

I asked her if she was coming up for Christmas, and at first all I got was silence. I worried for a moment because I thought maybe she'd been angry enough to hang up, but then she sighed again and haltingly explained that no, she wouldn't be visiting, because one of her friends was throwing a big Christmas party and she and her boyfriend (his name was Nick) were planning to go.

“Are you kidding me?” I demanded. “Ashley, come on! You've never missed a Christmas before.”

“Yeah, well, there's a first time for everything, I guess.”

I groaned. “Are you sure there's no way you can make it? Do you have to go to the party?”

Ashley sighed, but this time, it was different. This sigh wasn't a “God, Sam, you're such an idiot” kind of sigh, it was a “you don't understand the adult world, oh naïve little brother” kind of sigh, and it was so condescending that it took the place of any words she could have said.

It was betrayal, in some kind of strange form. I guess really, it was just my sister growing up and moving on with her life, and I should have been happy for her but I wasn't, I really wasn't, because I was part of her life too and I wanted proof that I meant more to her than some stupid frat party. It was incredibly selfish of me, but she was my older sister and I had to try to convince her to come.

“Please, Ashley?” I begged. “We all miss you, and we have your presents, and Aunt Sheridan isn't cooking so the food will be good, and I really wanted you to come up so you could meet my—”

My—

“Your what, Sam?” asked Ashley, sounding very sick of talking to me.

My girlfriend, Ellery, I wanted to say, but that didn't sound right to describe you. My friend, Ellery. But that wasn't quite right either. I even contemplated this really cool girl I know, but then I realized something that jumped out of the silence on the other side and bit me right in the nose: Ashley didn't care.

She could pretend—she would pretend—but the kind of quiet she was hitting me with wasn't anticipatory or interested. It was just bored, tired. Uncaring. I didn't know when she had stopped, but I guess the days of her listening to me were over. And I decided not to tell her about you, because the idea of her not caring hurt even more than the fact that she wasn't going to visit.

“No one,” I mumbled. “Never mind.”

She sniffed. She didn't pry. “Okay. Well...if that's all, I should probably go. I'll talk to you later, and maybe I can visit in January or something. For your birthday.”

She wasn't going to visit; I knew as well as she did. But I pretended I didn't. “Yeah, that'd be awesome,” I said, feigning enthusiasm. “We'll see.” I picked at the wrapping paper in front of me. “I love you, Ash. Merry Christmas.”

Again, she paused, and again, she sighed. “Love you too, twit-face. Bye.”

She hung up.

Love, because we're siblings and love is obligated. Of course she loved me. But I think if I'd said “like,” she wouldn't have used the same response, because at that point, I didn't think my sister liked me much at all.

I wasn't smiling anymore.

I went to the kitchen to tell my aunt what my sister had said, and she said “what a shame” without even looking away from the dishes she was washing. I sat down at the table again, across from my uncle, who looked up and peered at my aunt through his reading glasses.

“Guess that means we can go to Jon's party, doesn't it?” he remarked.

Aunt Sheridan heaved a dramatic breath. “Jon's house smells, his food is stale, and his wife is even fatter and crabbier than you. The only reason you want to go is because he hoards beer in his basement.” She didn't turn around, but she paused and shrugged. “But whatever you want, you're the dictator.”

I'm not sure those two like each other, either.

“You know Jon, right, Sam?” Aunt Sheridan questioned. “Do you want to come along?”

I blinked. “You're going to a party? But we always have dinner together, just the four of us.”

“I know, sweetie, but since your sister's not visiting, it'd be nice to do something different, don't you think?”

No. No, I didn't think so at all. But Aunt Sheridan obviously did, so I just smiled and agreed but said that no, I'd just stay home because I really didn't like Jon and he had a one-eyed cat that gave me the creeps. Except I didn't say that last part.

“I can't believe she's not coming,” I mumbled, pressing my temples as my aunt turned off the sink and shed her rubber gloves. She turned and smiled at me, sympathetic.

“Don't worry yourself too much, Sam,” she said. “You know Ashley's always been a stubborn old mule.”

Of course I knew that. She'd always been stubborn and snappy, quick to form opinions but even quicker to hold her ground. I'd always admired her for that, because I've never been good at standing up for myself. In some ways, her strength reminded me of you, although of course you were very different in pretty much every other aspect. For instance, I thought, smiling a bit, unlike Ashley and my aunt and uncle and practically everyone else I knew, I had real and solid proof that you actually liked me.

And that made me smile again.

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A/N: dedicated to nicole because see that picture of sam and elle on the side?

WELL SHE DREW IT

AND IT'S BEAUTIFUL

and everyone is encouraged to go and shower her with glitter because she is also a very awesome person who obsesses over gingers with me

also (and this is pretty random) it's probably just me but aunt sheridan reminds me of a cross between mrs. weasley and effie trinket but like, minus the accent idkdon'tlistentome