He was good, different. He’s thin, looks like an old man, and he talks slow, moves slow. But when he looks at me, he sees me, he’s no longer strung out. He took my hand, held it. Sat with me on a stone bench and we looked at the mist-covered mountains outside the temple together. He didn’t say he was sorry, because it was as if he knew it wasn’t needed anymore. That wasn’t the same Jeremy. I cried all the way home on the plane. It felt bad to cry, but as much as I hated who he became on the drugs, he still isn’t the brother I used to have. I guess I hoped I’d get him back at some point. I was grieving him on the trip home as if he was actually dead. Please don’t ever tell Cass I said that. Letter from Marcie to Ben, late sophomore year All your secrets are safe with me, brat. Things change. You’re a different person to him as well. You just need to figure out what you can be to one another now. When Jonas was killed, Matt and I didn’t know each other well. I even resented him a little bit for being the real son of the only guy who was ever a decent father figure to me.
