And Joaquin had the horrible, terrible feeling that he would never be able to give this kind of life to her. There was no one to tell her about him, no one to share embarrassing stories about him that Birdie would love, or show her baby pictures of him. Mark and Linda had photos around the house, sure, but it wasn’t the same. Birdie wanted—no, needed—the world. She was used to it. These photos were her map, and Joaquin knew then that he was rudderless, that he would only lead her astray.
He knew what it felt like to be held down.
He loved Birdie too much to do that to her.
He broke up with her the next day.
It was pretty terrible. At first Birdie had thought he was kidding, then she had cried and cried, and yelled and yelled, and Joaquin didn’t even say “I’m sorry” because he felt that apologizing for something meant that you had done wrong, and he knew he wasn’t wrong. He had tried to hug her, but she had slugged him in the arm. It felt worse than almost anything else in his life, and when he went home, he had gone straight up to his room and pulled the covers over his head.
Mark and Linda came up later that night, one of them sitting on either side of his bed, like bookends that kept him from falling over. “Judy Brown just called,” Mark said quietly. “You all right?”
“Yeah,” Joaquin said, not bothering to uncover his head. He wished they would go away, because nothing was worse than someone wanting you to talk when the words you needed to say hadn’t even been invented yet. And after a while, they left him alone, which somehow made him feel even lonelier, but at least that was familiar. Comforting, almost.
He saw Birdie in school, of course, but she only glared at him in the hallways, swollen eyed and furious. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?” her best friend, Marjorie, had said to him one morning when he was at his locker, and when Joaquin said, “I know,” she just looked surprised, then stormed off.
The next day, his social worker, Allison, came over and told them that he had two sisters who wanted to meet him.
Two empty branches where the bird had been.
“This is weird, right?”
Grace was sitting next to Joaquin now, and Maya was up at the counter getting napkins while they waited for their order. “Like, we just met each other and now we’re eating burgers like it’s a normal day.”
Joaquin sat up a little straighter. Grace’s posture was making him feel like a slouch. “Do you not want burgers?” he said. “There’s a burrito place across the street, or . . . ?”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” she said. There was a steeliness in Grace’s smile, like it had been forged in a fire. Joaquin could respect that. He also knew not to ask about it.
“I just meant that it’s strange, that’s all,” she continued as Maya came back, holding napkins under her arm and a bunch of tiny paper cups filled with condiments in her hands. “I feel like I should know what to say, but I don’t.”
“I know,” Joaquin said. Maya plopped down on his other side with a sigh, then tucked one of her legs under her. “I, um, I actually Googled,” he admitted.
“Did you really?” Maya giggled. “Me, too.”
Joaquin was pretty sure their Google searches had looked a little different, but he didn’t say anything.
What’s it like to have sisters?
Will my sisters hate me?
Will I hate my sisters?
How does it feel when someone is your sister?
Why did someone want my sisters instead of me?
How do you talk to your sisters so they like you?
“Yeah, Google was pretty useless in that regard,” Maya said as she arranged her condiments in front of her.
“Hey,” Joaquin said, pointing at them. “You got mayonnaise. You got two of them.”
“Oh, I know, it’s gross,” Maya said. “Everyone in my family always makes fun of me for it, but I love mayonnaise for my fries. It’s weird because I hate mayonnaise on everything else, but—”
“No, that’s not—I like mayonnaise on my fries, too,” Joaquin said. It was hard to interrupt Maya. She talked like a run-on sentence, no pauses or periods.
“No way,” Maya said.
“Me, too,” Grace piped up. “It’s my favorite. My parents think it’s disgusting.”
There was a quiet space after that, the three of them