it, and I glimpse the glimmer of mania lurking there behind the drugs. “She’s the only girl I ever loved. She’s the only person who ever loved me.”
“I love you.” So much. Doesn’t he see that?
He looks at me balefully. “You know what I mean.”
“For God’s sake, Benny. You were sixteen years old, just a kid. You have no idea who she really is, now. Her mother—”
“Her mother had an affair with Dad and then tried to blackmail him.”
I stare at him. “You knew about that?”
“Of course I knew. I was there when the letter came. Never saw the point in telling you because Dad asked me not to. Besides, I figured you’d lose your shit about it and spend the rest of your life fuming instead of being a productive member of society and all.” He blinks a few times, takes another bite of yogurt. “But Nina’s not her mother. Think about it: What did she ever really do to you? Because all she ever did to me was be my friend when no one else was interested. And Mom and Dad fucked that up.”
“Think about it, Benny. She got you hooked on drugs, which set you on a downward spiral and triggered…well. All this.”
He yawns. “Bullshit. She’d never even smoked pot before I gave her some.”
This stops the words in my throat. She hadn’t? My mother had it wrong? “Wait. You gave pot to her? But Maman said—”
He groans. “Mom was too fucked-up to see straight. Really, Van, there’s no reason to be pissed at Nina. Her mom was a piece of work, it’s true. But Nina didn’t do anything to me. I’m here for the same reason that Mom’s dead: We both had some faulty genes that screwed with the chemical balance in our heads. It’s no one else’s fault.”
It isn’t? My jaw works up and down, as I try to come up with another reason to hate Nina Ross. I feel lost, like I’ve let go of a thread and the path I’ve been following has disappeared. What did she do back then, really? Besides failing to be one of us. (Strange and not quality, I remember Maman writing. Oh.)
The characters onscreen screech and wail. “But still: You can’t deny that she faked her identity as Ashley Smith. Why would she do that if she wasn’t up to something shifty? And don’t forget that she stole money from Michael!”
He raises an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”
“What do you mean?” Something lurches inside me. He’s paranoid, I tell myself. He’s manic. But he doesn’t seem manic at all; if anything, he seems pretty lucid.
“All I’m gonna say is, I’m not convinced that you’re the best judge of character, sis.”
“This isn’t about me,” I say. “This is about your health. And fixating on her isn’t healthy for you.”
He proffers the half-empty container of yogurt toward me, with the spoon sticking out of it. “Speaking of my health, apparently I’m not allowed a fork anymore, unless I have supervision. Twenty-nine years old and I can’t cut my own goddamn food.”
I put my arm around him. Even like this, he’s still Benny to me; that sticky, warm toddler whom it was always my job to protect. “Do you want to come live with me?” I hear myself say. “It would make me so happy if you did.” Could I bring him to Stonehaven to live with me? Maybe it’s not so unfathomable after all. I always thought that Benny would be too much for me to handle alone. But I have Michael now! We could take care of him together. A family again, finally!
“I dunno.” He shrugs and slumps back, succumbing to the drugs in his system. “It’s not so bad here at Orson, actually. It’s safe. No voices.”
“Oh, Benny.” I don’t know what else to say.
He leans his head on my shoulder. “Merry fucking Christmas, sis.”
* * *
—
When I return to Stonehaven two days later, I discover Michael has recovered from his flu, but is in an inexplicably sour mood. The kitchen