Crazy Together

Tammy felt a little thrill. Not only did her brother think she was cool, but he was also keeping up with what she was doing online. Why couldn't he just talk to her, though?

"So you cyber-stalking me now? I didn't even think you used Facebook."

Max looked a little embarrassed, which only pleased Tammy more.

"I really don't but...I wanted to see what you were all about. You're really...popular."

Tammy frowned.

"That's not funny," she said.

"Uhhh, it wasn't supposed to be. Did I say something wrong?"

She paused. Maybe they could actually have a serious talk without hurting each other or talking past one another.

"Dude, high school sucked. Graduating sucked. Living at home, not going to college sucks. Working at stupid TGI Friday's sucks. Going out with assholes like Evan sucks. It seemed like you were, I don't know, fucking with me when you called me 'popular' is all."

Max looked apologetic enough, and Tammy was happy to drop it.

"I...I mean, you've got like 500 Facebook friends. I have, what, 30?" he said naively.

Tammy rarely got the chance to treat her brainiac brother like a naïf.

"Dude, seriously? You realize Facebook friends aren't actually friends, right?"

Max felt a little embarrassed and more than a little old, though truth be told, he had always been a mental adult, even when he was a child. He wanted to change the subject, and Tammy's rant gave him an out.

"So his name was Evan, huh?" he asked. "What went wrong?"

Now it was Tammy's turn to feel put on the spot.

"Do you really want to know, or do you just feel like you're supposed to ask?"

Tammy didn't intend for that to sound harsh, and she cringed a little once it came out. She was all hard elbows around Max for some reason.

"I didn't bring you back here to bullshit you," he said, "and I really am sorry about not calling. Tell me why I had to pick you up from another parking lot in the middle of the night."

Max too didn't intend to sound like he was annoyed with Tammy calling him, though he could hear it in his own voice. He hated saying things that hurt her. Fortunately, the rum and cokes seemed to have loosened them both up.

"So, I guess I should tell you a little background first," she said, clearly not relishing what was about to come. "I lost my virginity when I was fifteen."

Tammy saw a look of what she had to imagine was concern on Max's face.

"Don't worry—it wasn't, like rape, or anything. It got around school, and for whatever reason I was suddenly, like, the town slut or something. I mean, that's what people said about me—not in real life or anything. I'm not, you know, a slut. It's gotten a little better now, but still, if I go out with a guy who went to Harding, or even, like, had a cousin there or something, they immediately assume I'm just going to fuck them if they smile at me."

Tammy sipped the last of her drink, and Max wordlessly poured her another. She continued.

"The really fucked up thing is that I can count the number of times I've had sex on one hand—shit, no, that's wrong, but two hands for sure. I should have totally slutted around—at least then maybe I would have found a guy I liked."

Max felt sorry for his sister, but most of all he felt guilty for not being around, for letting his own shit keep him from protecting her.

"I'm sorry, Tammy," he said, pausing. "I didn't know."

Fortunately, he though, she didn't seem too embarrassed by sharing with him, and he wondered if he ought to express any interest in finding Evan and at least taking a stab at kicking his ass. Fighting wasn't really Max's thing—though, when he wanted to hurt people, he usually had words that struck harder than any fist.

On the other hand, they were both slowly beginning to feel the soothing effects of their friend Captain Morgan. For her part, Tammy just wanted to change the subject.

"OK, new question for you: why don't we have nicknames?"

The left-field question threw Max.

"You mean for each other?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, running her fingers absent-mindedly through her long, dirty-blonde hair. "You know I hate the name 'Tammy,' always have. You at least got a cool first name. Why didn't you ever give me a cute nickname when I was little, like...ummm...well, something cute, for a beautiful little princess like me?"

Tammy had adopted a high-pitched, funny little lilt in her voice for the last part, which made Max smile.

"Who's to say?" he said, shrugging.

"I hate it when you say that," she said, a little less happy than before.

"I could give you a different name now," he offered. "Not a nickname, but, I don't know, a secret name. A different first name, and only I'll use it."

It would have been harder for Max to come up with something that gratified Tammy more.

"Really? That's awesome! Whaddya got?"

Max thought for a moment.

"Well, there's...Effie."

Tammy looked at him warily. She knew his names would undoubtedly come from one the millions of books Max had shelved around the condo.

"What happened to her?"

"Bad marriage, infidelity, social ostracism, eventual death: you know, the usual."

"Next," she cried loudly.

"What about Ophelia?"

"Even I know that one. You gotta thing for seeing me die miserable or something?"

Max pondered.

"OK, so this one isn't too happy either. How about Joelle? Life isn't that great, but in the book, they call her the 'Prettiest Girl of All Time.' She even has to wear a veil, just to keep every man she meets from falling in love with her."

Tammy blushed. Was that how Max saw her?

"Seems a little...what's the word for, like, cocky, but you're, you know, wrong?"

"It's not presumptuous. It's a good secret name," he said, gliding past what he really wanted to tell her, how beautiful he thought she was.

Tammy rolled the name over in her mind, moving her lips silently at first before letting a sound escape.

"Joelle. I like it. I don't want hear about this 'Tammy' bitch any more," she said with a laugh.

"OK Joelle, I hate to kill the mood, so I want to preface this by saying that I'm genuinely not judging, just curious: why shoplifting?"

Tammy was glad to have a decent buzz going to answer such a question.

"Oh, that. I don't know. It makes me feel...in control. I know you probably think I suck, since I got caught, but I'm actually really good at it."

She leaned forward a bit, suddenly conscious that this whole conversation, the whole night, was all taking place in her date night best: her sexy dress, black pumps, and uncomfortable but scorching hot lingerie. She was even all made up, something Max had probably never seen.

"Your turn," she said. "What happened with Emily?"

It was like all the air came out of the room. Tammy was afraid she'd crossed some invisible line and ruined the night. She fully expected Max to turn back into a stone statue, but he downed the rest of his drink, poured himself another—the coke noticeably absent—and, standing behind his bar counter, leaned in towards her on his elbows.

"Well, Joelle, I'm a hard guy to know," he said. "And she got tired of living with a stranger."

Tammy felt a sudden wave of sadness overtake her, as if she was reliving someone else's heartbreak. She hated Emily so much in that moment.

"Did you love her?"

Max thought for a moment, though not about the answer to the question. That he knew easily; rather, he thought about the danger that comes from letting a crack form in an emotional wall, even a small one.

"No," he said. "But when she was here I wasn't so alone."

Tammy knew she had to be careful. She didn't want Max to shut down on her.

"If you want me to back off, tell me to back off," she said, "but I gotta ask. What does that mean, 'hard guy to know?'"

Max leaned back, the distance between them now chilly. If anything, it made Tammy realize how close he had just gotten to her, physically as much as emotionally.

"You know how you hate it when people call you 'crazy?' Well, I...shit, I kind of am. I saw a guy, a professional, once—for a while. But not anymore. Now I just kind of deal."

Tammy knew instantly what he meant. She had always wondered about him, about his "zones."

"It's depression, right?" she asked.

Max had always been really sweet to her as a kid, but even back then he would go through spells when their parents found it almost impossible to wake him. He seemed only to confide in their brother Jeff, the brother the family couldn't talk about, the brother they had lost. For Max, it had only gotten worse after they lost him.

Max took a deep breath and tried to muster a smile.

"These are a little too strong, huh?" he said.

Tammy knew he was desperate to change the subject, and for once, she figured she would let him. They sat in silence for a minute, before, to Tammy's surprise, Max spoke.

"So you know my big secret, now I guess. I mean, you're right...your guess."

Tammy wished the bar between them dissolved so she could give her brother a hug.

"You wanna know my big secret?" she asked.

"Of course," he said, "anything."

"So I lied about college, about not getting in. I got into State, same as you, just no scholarship. I just...threw the letter away and lied to Mom and Dad."

"Tam—why?"

"Because I'm afraid they're right. Like, what if I am crazy? I get these mood swings, and sometimes I feel like I'm out of control. I do things I don't even want to do, just to do it. I mean, that's crazy, right?"

Max didn't wait for the bar to dissolve; he came around and embraced his sister.

"I don't think you're crazy. Or at least, if you are, we can be crazy buddies together. You know, swap SSRIs, have a party with all the voices in our heads."

Tammy laughed, and realized for the first time that she had also started to cry. It felt so good to let go of that fear, to hear it mirrored back to her without judgment or condescension.

They both made their way over to the living room seating area, tacitly acknowledging that they had reached their quota of liquor for the evening. Tammy suddenly wished Max was closer to her, but he sat, alone, in his chair while she took the sofa.

"I didn't know it was so hard for you," he told her, hoping she'd understand his absence was never about her.

"I could say the same thing," she observed. "You know, I always imagined you as this, like, solitary genius. It seemed like you were just too good for anybody, and that's why you were alone all the time."

He laughed.

"I work in college admissions, I'm not Zarathustra," he said, cringing in the fear she might think he was trying to talk over her head.

"Oh yeah," she said, stroking an imaginary beard, "Zarathustra. He's one of my favorites, too."

She had a way of putting him at ease when she wanted to.

"I like seeing these different layers to you," she said, "but when am I going to see the real you?"

He cocked his head to the side.

"Maybe it's turtles all the way down."

She rolled her eyes.

"Now you're doing that on purpose. What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Max grinned.

"I'm going to butcher this story. So there were some people, I don't remember who—doesn't matter. Anyway, they thought the whole world was just a flat plate balanced on a turtle's back. And some smart ass—probably a little like me to be honest—thought he would show them how dumb this idea was, so he asked them what the turtle was standing on. They told him it was just another turtle, and the smart-ass, as smart-asses are wont to do, shot back and said then that turtle's got to stand on something—"

"Another turtle, right?" she asked.

"You're an excellent student, Ta—Joelle," he said, making her secret name sound French. "And the other guy, he tells the smart-ass that, yeah, another turtle. And then what does that turtle stand on?"

Tammy gave a smile of recognition: "It's turtles all the way down. I get it."

She thought for a second.

"You're wrong."

"Yeah?" he asked. "It was just a story; not sure how I can be wrong."

Tammy started talking a little fast, something she did when she got excited. Figuring out Max's point and realizing he'd made a mistake was just such a time.

"Yeah, that's a good story and all, but it doesn't mean what you're saying. Like, I get it—you're saying there's no 'real you' under the layers, only more layers. But that's not what the story means. The people are just nuts. The world isn't balanced on one turtle or infinity turtles. And the smart ass, who thinks there's got to be something real—she's right."

Max sat in silence for a moment.

"You're smart."

She smiled.

"I know, right? Who'da thunk it?"

Max smirked.

"So the smart ass is a girl, too, huh?"

Tammy tapped her index finger against her temple.

"I'm clever like that..."

"Joel—Tammy?"

"Yeah?"

"Go to bed."

Tammy's mind flashed to the last time she slept over at Max's place, when she felt a pang of longing for him to sleep with her side by side. She wished she knew for certain that she could laugh off the request if it made things seem weird.

"Hey, Max?"

"Yeah?"

"You can have the other side of the bed if you want. It's big, and your couch sucks, no offense."

Max paused for a moment. Tammy tried to read his face. It was working.

"OK," he said. "You can borrow something of mine to sleep in, if you want."

He hadn't thought about his words. "If you want?" Of course she wasn't going to sleep in what she was wearing. "If you want?" Was she supposed to sleep naked with her brother? Max cursed his stupidity under his breath, hoping she didn't notice.

Tammy felt warm inside. Part of her wanted to strip off her clothes and pretend it was all a joke, teasing Max about the offer of pajamas. So long as she didn't look too long and too deep at her feelings, she could pretend that this was all just totally innocent, just about connecting with her brother after years of absence and neglect.

"I'll take a t-shirt and...got any cotton shorts or anything?"

Taking some night clothes from Max, she changed hastily in the master bathroom. Part of her wanted to burst into the room, to catch Max in the middle of removing his own clothes...but to do what, she did not know. In bed, she closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like if their bodies touched, but they did not, and the gulf between them felt impassable. Soon she heard the sounds of Max gently sleeping, and she felt better. In the morning they woke, nestled against one another, and spoke not a word of it until she was gone.

***

Max almost didn't answer when he saw the call came from his parents, but something told him that it was about Tammy.

"Max, honey, it's Mom."

No shit, he thought, do you think I can't recognize your voice or something?

"I'm going to put you on speaker. Tell Tammy she cannot come to stay with you."

"What?"

He could hear his mother's exaggerated deep breath. She could be so histrionic some times, and Max was sure their father was lurking somewhere in the background, ready to twist the knife whenever it would hurt Tammy the worst.

"Your darling sister has told us in no uncertain terms that she isn't going to follow our rules, and your father and I are sick of it. Now she's all about how wonderful her brother is, and how you're going to let her stay with you now. Tell her it isn't happening so she can calm down about it and listen to your father and I."

"Me," Max replied.

"What?"

"'Father and me.' It's an indirect object, so it's not 'I,' it's 'me.' And she's nineteen, stop trying to control her."

"Honey, you know what your sister's like—"

Max resented his mother's attempt to pit him against Tammy.

"Yeah, I do, do you?"

He could tell from the difference in voice that his mother had taken him off speakerphone.

What a bitch! he thought. She really thought I was going to shoot Tammy down in front of them, to make her feel like shit so they could control her more.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, Max." she spat, the saccharine tones of the beginning of the conversation now vanished. "You can't seriously think she can stay with you, do you?"

Max didn't have an answer.

"Look," he said, trying to defuse the situation, "I'll come pick her up, so that everyone can cool off. We'll talk about it later."

His mother was dissatisfied with the idea; Max suspected his mother liked the situation as it was, where Tammy was so afraid she really was the unstable girl they made her out to be that she'd given up on going to college. No matter, he hadn't taken "no" for an answer, and soon Tammy would be on her way with him.

Feeling a sudden shudder when he pulled into the driveway, Max realized it had been over a year since he had come home. Being back at the house reminded him of Jeff, and he had done a lot of work to never be reminded of Jeff. Now he just needed to get in and get out.

"Max!" Tammy called from the top of the stairs. "You came!"

She looked so thrilled to see him. She was oddly dressed up for the house, wearing a nice black and white striped tank top and a pair of dark blue skinny jeans. Had she dressed up for him? Moreover, Max couldn't remember the last time someone was happy he had arrived somewhere.

At the base of the stairs stood both of his parents.

"Max, you shouldn't have come," his dad said in a gruff voice.

He wasn't a big or particularly physical man, but his father nevertheless had a way of getting what he wanted. He could be ruthless if necessary, though his mother's emotional manipulation was usually enough to accomplish whatever they set out to do. As despicable as he found the two of them, they made an undoubtedly great team, always on the same page when it came to him and his sister.

"I'm not afraid of you, Daddy," Tammy said.

Max always marveled how they had infantilized her. She acted out in just the way they wanted, played the hyper-emotional child because that's what they expected. He knew how living in that house could make you crazy, even if you weren't before.

"Well, hooray for you!" said their father. "I don't care what you say, young lady. There's no excuse for acting like...like such a cunt."

Even their mother was taken aback at the vehemence of his words. Max watched his father's angry visage slide into a look of utter shame.

"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean to say that."

Everyone watched in stunned silence as Tammy descended the stairs, snaking through her two parents to Max's side. He leaned in, handing her the keys and whispering for her to go to the car. She complied, leaving Max alone with his parents.

"Max, honey, you don't understand," his mother said. "You don't know what it's like here with her. You never come around."

Max felt a shudder of anger pass over him, then vanish. This was the house where his brother died. This was the house where he almost died, too. He cracked his knuckles, slowly, and took a deep breath. When he exhaled, he felt himself calming.

"I didn't stay here to yell at you. I wanted to say I'm sorry," he said calmly.

His parents looked confused, though not displeased.

"I don't come here. Ever. You know why. Maybe it didn't really matter to you, but it mattered to me."

His mother started to cry, and his father embraced her.

"We loved him too, Maxie," his dad said, clearly fighting off tears himself. "We just don't want to lose all of you."

Max sensed an opportunity to make things right.

"Wait a day or two and apologize to Tammy. I'll talk to you then. I really do think she ought to move out, though. Maybe not move in with me, but something. She's grown-up, now. And she's stronger than you think."

Max didn't wait for his parents to suck him in to some interminable debate on his sister's fitness for adult life. When he opened the door, he half-expected to find Tammy glued to the other side, listening in. She had made her way to the car, though, most likely in an effort to get as far away from their parents as possible.