SECRETS WE TELL THE STARS

vi

Two mornings later, after breakfast, Julian shaves in his bathroom and I stand in the doorway, watching his controlled movements before he notices me through the mirror. He places his razor on the bench and washes his hands.

"Are you alright?" he asks with clear concern.

"Yeah," I nod, my eyes still on him. Julian appears a few years older when he shaves. It's like a magic trick.

"Are you sure?" Usually, I'd be pissed with the continuous questions. But breakfast wasn't easy with Ryan still here and Julian is aware of it. I nod my head again in response, and Julian picks up his razor again and carefully brings it up to his chin.

"Is there anything you wanted then?"

"I need to shave my legs. Can I use your bathroom?"

"Uh, sure," he mutters, making sure not to cut himself on the blade as it touches his skin. I thank him and move to his bathtub. Some of my lotions are still in here from last time. I don't know why I have so many bottles. I don't remember buying all the different types of brands. To be fair, I don't remember a lot of things.

As I pull up my pant legs and lean on the edge of the bathtub, Julian asks me more questions. I'm trapped here and have no choice but to respond.

"Are you going out later?"

"Maybe. Can I take your car to town? I'll pick up the gas tank for you."

Julian looks at me through the mirror. His eyes are so bright and read me so well. "So, you want him to leave now?"

"I guess I do. I thought he'd be here, and we'd mend whatever we lost. I've decided that I don't care anymore."

"Care about what?"

I could respond in a lot of ways. Care about him staying here. Care about him leaving all those years ago. Care about him.

I end up shrugging. Julian does not like my answer. He plays therapist sometimes and frowns as he does when I refuse to open up. He and I would have likely benefited from having a therapist growing up. Our childhoods were far from picture-perfect.

I finish shaving my left leg and move over to the right. I am extra careful because I don't want to get blood on his tub. Julian's holding back his words. He wants to talk more and make me open up more, but he doesn't know how to approach the situation. He does that thing where his right eye squints slightly more than his left eye and he bites the inside of his jaw when he's concerned and curious.

I don't feel like answering his demands, though. I'd prefer to finish shaving and head to town and hang out with Ashton and not face my problems and pretend that my brother is not back after years of being away. Like him, I run.

Maybe it's in our blood. Maybe between fight, flight or freeze instincts, my family is used to flight. It's true with my father, so maybe I picked it somewhere down the line.

Julian does not end up asking about my brother. Thank God. Instead, he asks me, "Did you end up getting a job in town?"

I had completely forgotten. "I will today."

"Then what did you do a few days ago? For the whole day?"

"I don't remember."

"You came back late," Julian points out. He has finished shaving now and he washes his face and turns to me. He crosses his arms across his chest and scrutinises my movements and controlled breaths. "You were happier. Something happened with Ashton, I'm assuming?"

"No," I deny. "I didn't even see him."

"You liar."

I don't ever lie to Julian. Maybe I do without realising. It isn't a lie; I try and convince myself. But it is, and I feel bad.