I managed to squeeze in the biannual presentation before I'm packing to go with my siblings to Shenandoah again. It never is as difficult as I think it will be. Telling Reid all about the new condo before he was whisked away again was easy too. Of course, I didn't tell him about Mary. Her task for me was the hardest anyway, and I had bitten off more than I can chew there.

She gave me a list of cognitive distortions. Now, I pride myself on my ability to interpret things. I clearly do not engage in mind reading or fortune telling, or emotional reasoning. They are ridiculous. If it weren't for one of the ones she highlighted, next to the bottom of the page, I wouldn't even give them a second glance.

SHOULD STATEMENTS

While could is definitely a different word, Mary would ask me if I actually think the difference is negligible. I don't, anyway. So, I try to catch myself doing it over the next four days. I might even try to do it in front of my siblings over the weekend. This is something that I do end up hiding from Estelle.

Stéphane is picking us all up in town, since none of us have access to our own vehicles in DC. Caro's going to be flying into the airport soon. While I know we're all going to meet her there, I'm not sure if Stéphane will swing by Bastien's place first or if I'll be the first he'll grab. Despite Estelle's nagging, I have not told him about what happened to Bastien. It would be easier if he rolled up with Bastien in the car, so I wouldn't have to make a decision.

Unfortunately, when I step down to meet him, the exhaust from his car cloudy like my breath in the cold, Stéphane rolls down the window and pats the empty seat next to him.

Damn it.

I throw my stuff in the trunk and sit beside him. It's Friday shortly after rush hour. The traffic is nuts, and I'm not entirely sure of the address of Bastien's place. The military has put him up temporarily since he's in and out of the country. Stéphane's been to his place, but I haven't.

"How are you?" he asks.

"Good," I manage, looking him over. "I bought a condo."

He mocks surprise, and I can tell Estelle told him over text. The worst. The car still parked, he leans over and gives me a hug.

"Congratulations!" he says. "You've decided to stay for a PhD then?"

I shrug, "I'll be here for at least a year and a half. I'm not applying anywhere right now, anyway. But if I do go somewhere else, it won't be abroad. Maybe UPenn, or something."

He lets go, squeezing my shoulders with his hands before turning back to the wheel. We roll out. It's easy enough to ask him about his life. His girlfriend got him an alto sax for his birthday.

My eyes widen, "oh, so she's like rich rich then?"

"It was from some online funeral sale," Stéphane laughs. "So, cheaper for an alto sax. I'll need to refurbish it."

He hasn't played in a long time, as far as I know. We've got time to talk about Bastien now, I suppose, but he's in a good mood. Somehow, I'd rather tell him about me, and how therapy has been going. I explain the cognitive distortion thing. I don't know that I'm entirely on board with the whole thing. I guess I personalize a lot, but most things in my life are my fault.

"My girlfriend says CBT is rooted in neoliberalism," Stéphane says. "I think you might understand that, but I don't."

It's easy to laugh. My brother and I fall into natural patterns together.

Snow is dusting the windshield now, melting as soon as it hits the roof of the car. We pull into Bastien's lot, where he is already downstairs. He's holding his bag, a puffy coat on so I can't tell if he's got padding or anything over his ribs. He squeezes into the back, pressing his knees into my seat. The guy is too big to be sitting in the back, so we agree to do a switcheroo at the airport.

"How are things with you?" Stéphane asks.

I wish I was driving so I could see Bastien in the rearview mirror. Is he yellow? Pale? If Stéphane hasn't said anything, his busted lip is probably healed now. Maybe his knuckles haven't. I didn't ask. I don't think I wanted to know. The reason he has to fight like this is my fault. In part.

Mentally, I check off personalization on my list.

"Good," Bastien shrugs. "Nothing much new."

That becomes my cue to close my mouth. I don't look over at Stéphane. Instead, I stare forward out the window, listening to my brothers' conversations. Bastien is single, and bothers Stéphane about his secret relationship more than me. At least we get all of the talk about romance out before we pick up Caro at the airport.

She gets in the car, and we all play catch up with her for an hour. Stéphane retells the same stuff, Bastien updates us on the military but avoids mentioning deployment, I talk about my job. Caro discusses her move and Cletus, which is barely acceptable but I'll survive.

"Oh, I saw Cole recently," Bastien mentions, right after Stéphane pays for us to enter the park. "Got into a fight, and her doctor lover patched me up."

There it is.

"You have a boyfriend?" Caro's jaw drops as she stares at me with sparkling eyes.

"You got in a fight?" Stéphane's fist tighten around the wheel.

Bastien brushes Stéphane off, "it was just a bar fight anyway... and I was perfectly fine once I was in Dr. Spencer's hands. You know Cole, if things don't work out-"

"Bastien, I swear to God-"

"Why didn't you say you were with Reid?" Caro snaps a finger in front of my face, pulling me out of the argument with Bastien. She pauses, "you are with Reid right? Unless you usually have coworkers come and help Bastien."

"If she isn't isn't fucking him, I'll be-"

"Shut up, Seb!"

"If all of you don't calm down, I'm turning around, I don't care that we just got here," Stéphane cuts over the noise.

In the front seat, Bastien crosses his arms. I kick his chair. Fucking bastard. And to think I had his back this entire time.

People with only one sibling don't understand gang territory. One minute, Stéphane and I are the oldest, and we're trying to knock sense into Bastien, and the next he's scowling at me in the rearview mirror as if I'm not a whole day older than him. Less than an hour, but a full calendar day. Caro is quiet too, and for once that doesn't even bring me solace.

We get into the cabin and start to unpack. The cold front has slammed into Virginia early this year. The ground is slick with frost, even now, as it is dark. We end up getting into the cabin and Stéphane gathers wood to get a fire. He drags Bastien along with him, forcing the sulking boy out into the cold. Caro and I get dinner ready, prepping skewers that we're going to cook on the shitty stovetop.

Finally, when we are alone, Caro just raises an eyebrow. There is a smirk on her lips. I haven't even said anything. So, I sigh.

"Five months," I tell her.

She squeals, leaning over and wrapping an arm around me tightly. I can't even fight her off because I've got raw chicken on my hands.

"We're not getting married soon, before you ask," I shake my head. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait longer for cousins."

Her grip loosens. Caro slips back to the zucchini, slicing it up again. The smile isn't on her face anymore.

In the car, she talked about Cletus being busy now. She's moved down to Texas now, since the summer. Cletus didn't want to live up north, and with Bastien in DC most of the time, she left with him. No luck on a house, even though they are cheaper in Texas than DC. She hasn't found a job down there yet, and she was the breadwinner.

My mouth opens, and so does the front door. Bastien and Stéphane are roaring with laughter as they walk into the cabin. It may be noisier, but I can feel the silence creeping in.

During dinner, we end up having a few beers. We play a board game. The entire time, my eyes are scanning my siblings' faces. Stéphane won't tell us who he's seeing, and he's evasive about his therapy sessions. Something is wrong with Caro and Cletus, I think. Bastien drinks too many drinks too quickly.

We aren't doing gifts, thank God. We're leaving on Sunday, the day before my birthday, and two days before Stéphane's. Now, I'm too old for birthdays. We're just catching up, without telling each other anything about ourselves.

It's not cold enough for most winter activities yet. There is barely any snow on the ground. So, over the next few days we make do. We go for a late-night walk in the forest, guided by Stéphane. We stargaze, and another day we birdwatch as everything migrates around us. Curled together in the cabin, we watch cartoons that Stéphane has on a burned disk, and they aren't as good as they were when we were kids but I do enjoy them all the same. It's a good time. Maybe a great one, but none of us are honest with each other.

The truth is something that must matter to me. As a researcher, my life's work is seeking answers.

On the way up, I mention that I'm moving. I don't hide that I bought it, and I don't look at Caro in case I might see the way her face falls. We all agree I'll host at Christmas. We've got three rooms, and Estelle will almost certainly, be out of the country. Bastien and Stéphane can arm wrestle for the blow up or something.

"Will Spencer come?" Stéphane asks.

"You call his Spencer?" Bastien scoffs. "He's FBI, not military."

"Spencer's his first name, dumbass. You thought it was Reid?"

I take in a deep breath, "no promises. I'll ask him. Only if Stéphane asks her."

Stéphane crinkles his nose. My siblings lean in close, waiting for him to speak. He finally relents.

Getting dropped off before dinner gives me time to start packing. We're ending our rental contract a week into December, but we're going to start moving our stuff in on the first, doing whatever emergency stuff we can to get things together. I've booked that first week off of work so I can just focus on contractors and any basic repairs I can do on my own. Since I'll be in the new place only three weeks before Christmas, I'm not ecstatic to have my siblings over. It won't be anywhere near nice by then, but they'll have to cope. It'll give me a chance to get Caro's opinions on decorating anyway.

I get in the apartment and flick on the lights. There is an envelope, shoved under the door, which is weird because we have our mailbox in the lobby. It's addressed to me.

When I rip it open on the countertop, I hold in a scream.

~~~~~

Come on now, did we really think this was a walk in the park? Just a little giggle and a laugh? Well, it was but then it wasn't, and now it really isn't. What do we think was in the letter?