Chapter 137

“You know what she told me on the way up here?” Ray laughs, a strangled sound that he cuts off before it can run away from him. “She actually said thank God you’re not gay like Michael is. Like Michael. That’s all I ever hear—like Michael.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. I am. What else can I say? Grudgingly Ray rubs at his nose and sniffles, which is the closest he ever comes to crying. For the first time I can remember, I feel a deep ache in my chest, I feel sorryfor him, and I touch his shoulder in a comforting gesture, which isn’t much but is all I can think to do. I can’t take away my mother’s hateful nature. I can’t take away the years of hearing her compare him to me. As if I’m all that to begin with, I’m not. He said it himself, I’m not. “Ray—”

He shrugs my hand away. “Leave me alone,” he mutters, and picks at the front of his shorts absently. In a tiny voice, he whispers, “I didn’t mean to call you that.”