I took his hand in mine, “I need you, too, Xan. I feel closer to Oliver when you’re near me, too. I’m sorry I’m being awful. The truth is that you’re the only person who comforts me.”
“I wish I could make you stop crying.”
I rolled over laid my head on his chest, “I wish I could you as well.”
Alexander stroked my hair gently while both of us softly wept.
Lucy showed no jealousy for being left out of how Alexander and I turned to each other to cope. She allowed us to cling to one another and express ourselves freely without a word, without question, and without interference. It was the greatest demonstration of pure love for two people that I had ever seen any human being make.
I found her one morning sitting in the garden. She had a book of photos on her lap. The page was open to a picture of her and Oliver. Lucy could not have been more than fifteen years old. In her Bennington uniform, she was perched on Oliver’s back, her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. He held her under the leg with one hand, the other on the back of her head, eyes tilted toward her, a look on his face as if discovering her there was a complete surprise.
“I’m sorry, Lucy,” I suddenly realised how selfish I’d been, “I’ve been so caught up in myself that I haven’t even asked how you are doing through all of this. You lost Oliver, too.”
“Ollie was my brother,” She said softly, staring off at the trees as they moved in the breeze, “I loved him more than I ever told him.”
“He knew.”
“I know he did. He always knew. My whole life he looked out for me,” She looked back at the photo and turned the page. The next was one of her and Alexander, still at Bennington, sitting together in the dining hall, her hand in his. Lance took the shot the week before Oliver and I were married. She turned the page again and it was me and the twins, sixth year, sitting together on the quad. Side by side, me in the middle, we were all smiling, and the wind was blowing my hair on to Alex’s shoulder, “Oliver made sure I was set up at Bennington. He made sure everyone knew who I was, that I was one of his own. Everybody loved him, didn’t they?”
“Yes,” I watched her turn the page again. The next photo was of the twins pretending to strangle each other with their ties, the one below it was of them standing in the West wing, identical in their uniforms. It took me a second to decipher which one was which, but I could tell by the eyes that the one on the left was Ollie, “It was hard not to love him, wasn’t it?”
“Damn near impossible,” She mumbled. “Did you know that after Alexander and I were together, Oliver used to take me on dates?”
“Dates?”
She smiled and turned the page again. The next photo was definitely of Oliver, standing on the corner in Welshpool by his mother’s house. His sunglasses were on top of his head, his t-shirt bore the logo of his favourite football team. His blue jeans were faded and his daps were worn. He wasn’t smiling. He held a book that I had bought for him in his hand, his fingers stuck inside it as if he were saving a page. I realised that the photo been snapped during that awful summer when we’d lost Cara. He looked so stony, so serious, not at all like his normal self. And yet he was still so handsome, his gentle face inviting anyone to ask him what the problem was so that he could unload it from his heart. Poor Ollie. That had been the worst time of his life. Really, it was the worst time of both of ours. I wondered where I had been at that moment and why I had left him alone.
“Oh, yes! Dates!” She continued, “He used to take me out for chips and ice cream, ‘Dates’, he called them. Do you know why he did it?”
“Because he loved you.”
“No, not exactly,” My sister turned to me, giving me a look I could not place, “He did it to fall in love with me.”
“What?”
She laughed, “It didn’t make sense to me at first, either. But you knew Ollie! Not much did make sense with him unless you could step out of yourself and see life through his eyes.” She sighed, “Life through his eyes was always very different. It was more fun, full of magic and wonder. Everything was more beautiful through Oliver’s eyes,” She paused, “I was so jealous of you back then. Not because of Oliver, but Alexander.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve loved Alexander since the first minute I met him. You and him have always had this…thing.” She drew a breath through her nose and added quickly, “Don’t deny it, Sil! Oliver saw it, too. Oliver saw everything. There wasn’t a thing he missed, even if he acted sometimes like he did. He had a gift. He could look at someone and know exactly what they had in their heart.”
“Yes, he could.”
“Anyway, he took me on one of our dates one night and I asked him why he was doing it. I said, ‘I’m only Silvia’s sister, you don’t have to try so hard with me! You know I love you!’ and he told me, ‘But I’m falling madly in love with you, Lucy!’ I was horrified!” She giggled. Even at eighty years old she still had that girly, silly giggle, “And then he said, ‘Oh, not like that! I’m falling in love with your essence, with your soul!’ and he went on to tell me that he had to be in love with me, because Alexander was in love with you. I wanted to punch him right in the face! How dare he say such a thing to me! Alexander in love with you! But then Oliver explained it. He told me that he knew that Alex always had been, since that first day they met you. He said it was another reason how he knew that you were the right one for him to marry. He could never spend his life with anyone that his brother wasn’t in love with, too. If Alex didn’t love you, you weren’t good enough.” She shook her head with a smile, “And he said he that knew that if he fell in love with me, Alexander couldn’t resist loving me, too. He wanted us together, so he began dating me.”
I laughed out loud. “That sounds about like him! His logic was mad!”
“It was! He was mental!” She agreed, “But he was so sweet, wasn’t he? He really saw people. When I was at university, he’d call me sometimes and ask me if I needed anything. ‘Are you all right?’ He’d ask me, “ ‘And don’t lie to me, because I’ll know!’ And later, after Alex and I were together, he always made sure Alexander was treating me well. Oliver was the best. Just simply the best. I miss him so much,” She paused again and looked away from the book. I knew she was collecting herself so she wouldn’t cry. After a moment, she looked back at it and turned the page. The next photo was of her and Alexander, kissing in the garden. It was just of their faces, their eyes closed, Alex’s thumb resting against her cheek.
“I’m sorry I’m taking your husband from you,” I whispered, taken with the beauty of the photo. “I’m being so selfish.”
“You’re not taking him from me,” My sister looked at me suddenly, “I’m letting you borrow him.”
I didn’t know quite what to say. I couldn’t read her expression. “I’m sorry,” I said again.
“Silvia, it’s all right. As far as my husband and you go, I understand. I really do. I used to be jealous, but I figured it out a long time ago. It’s Oliver that the two of you have in common, that brutal love for Oliver. There is no one in the world Alexander ever loved more than his brother. It’s what binds you two. And Oliver and I shared the same ferocity for Alexander. It bound us as well.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
She smiled, “Don’t you really? It’s simple. What you and Alexander have goes beyond brother and sister and it goes beyond friendship. It goes beyond physical. It’s a trust that comes from the heart. A long time ago Alex was confused by the closeness, but now it’s just love. Pure and simple. You love each other. And that’s a beautiful thing.”
“I do love him.”
“I know. And I know that right now you need him and he needs you. Oliver’s gone and you’re both left with all this passion and the object of it is not here. I’m not threatened. Alexander chose me,” Lucy smiled again, “He’s given me fifty four wonderful years with him and I know he wouldn’t have given me a day if he didn’t love me. So why should I be jealous and why should you be sorry? It’s a waste of energy.” My sister took my hand and squeezed it, “And anyway, I adore him. I always have. Losing Oliver is killing him. I can’t do anything for him. I watch him suffer. I watch him die slowly from grief and I can’t touch the place in him where he’s hurting. But you can, because you loved Oliver as much as him. You’re helping him like he’s helping you. I’m thankful to you both for that. I just wish I could do more for either of you. I feel so helpless…” She turned a page in the book again. A photo fell out from between the pages and she caught it. This one got her full attention. It was her, taken only a few months earlier, standing beside Oliver with her head pressed into the middle of his chest. His arms were around her. Both of them were grinning. Lucy stared at it and was quiet for a long time before she whispered, “I wish that I could have done something to help him.”