The Better Brother

“What’s up with you?” I asked, nudging her leg with my foot. “Drunk already?”

“No.” She shook her head and sighed. “There’s something I should really tell you.”

“Okay.” I sat up straighter. “What is it?”

“I ran into Joshua the other day,” Andrea said. She spoke quickly, spitting the words out before she could change her mind. “At that Starbucks by the hospital. I was there for… Well, it doesn’t really matter. I stopped in to grab some coffee and, boom, there he was.”

“Did you talk to him?” I asked.

Andrea nodded. “He asked about you.”

My stomach did a flip, but it was weaker than I expected. Hearing Joshua’s name used to send me into a spiraling depression. I hated thinking about him. Talking about him had felt like a unique form of torture. Now, it didn’t seem

to bother me as much.

“What did you tell him?” I asked.

“Just that you moved,” Andrea said with a shrug. “I said you were doing great, but that you left Dallas.”

“And?” I pressed.

“He was shocked,” Andrea said. “I guess he really had no idea.”

“I told you.” I laughed softly. “He’s not really the type to check Facebook religiously.”

“Still,” Andrea said. “You’d think he would have by now.”

“Nah.” I shook my head. “Residency is too time-consuming, remember?”

“Whatever.” Andrea rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I just thought you should know.”

“Did you tell him where I moved?” I asked nervously. The last thing I needed was for Joshua to suddenly have a change of heart and show up at my doorstep.

“God, no,” Andrea said. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Just making sure,” I said. “Thanks for telling me.”

Andrea watched me closely as I took another sip of my champagne. I couldn’t have described my mood if I wanted to. I’d been so happy just moments before, and now, I was still happy but reserved. There was something about hearing Joshua’s name, something about knowing he had asked about me, that made me uncomfortable.

“You okay?” Andrea asked.

“Just…” I began. “I don’t know. It’s strange.”

“What is?” Andrea asked.

“I don’t feel sad anymore,” I said. “Before, when someone would mention him, I’d feel this weight on my chest. My eyes would burn, and I would want to cry.”

“And now?”

“It’s a different feeling.” I shrugged. “Less intense.”

“You’re getting over him,” Andrea said wisely. “That’s a good thing.”

“It is, isn’t it?” I smiled, and Andrea nodded encouragingly.

We spent the rest of the day talking about anything but Joshua. My mind turned back to Michael and, by the time Andrea left, I couldn’t stop myself from calling him.

“Julie,” he said when he answered. “I was wondering when I’d hear from you. How was the interview?”