Sawyer nodded. “He is. Sometimes I wonder why I’m in the running for a clerkship with him in the first place.”
“Because you have plenty of feelings,” I said, shocked at my old boldness but it was too late now. The words had come flying out and there was no taking them back. “And he probably sees it.”
Sawyer looked at me from across the blanket. Between us, Olivia dozed. He covered her eyes with a little sunhat. “I do believe in second chances. For her, I do. For criminals like the guy who killed my mom?” He shook his head. “Once a person crosses over the line, it’s too easy do it again and again.”
“What line?”
“Breaking the law,” Sawyer said. “Falling back into drugs and alcohol, or stealing or murder or…any criminal act.”
I nodded and looked away, into the gulf of sadness that opened between us. The idea of telling him about my past felt even more impossible.
He won’t see me anymore, only my record. A criminal.
I cleared my throat. “Tell me about your brother, Emmett. Where is he now?”
“Good question. Last I heard he was heading toward Tibet. He travels all over. Doesn’t have a permanent address. After our mom died, he ran away a lot. He always came back but when he got older, he stayed away longer. Dropped out of school, even though he has a genius IQ. Or maybe because of it.”
A quiet, proud smile touched Sawyer’s lips. Then it faded.
“I’ve always felt like the world can’t contain Emmett. Or he’s too smart to deal with it. Like he can see all of its moving parts, and it’s too much for him. He has to keep going. To outrun it, maybe.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Yeah, I do. I don’t have much family left. Dad remarried and now they live in Idaho. Patty—his wife—has her family there, so I never see my dad. Birthday cards and the occasional phone call.”
He glanced at me, took in my darkened expression. “Hey, sorry for dumping all that about my mom on you. I don’t normally talk about my shit. Not to anyone.”
“I’m glad you told me,” I said, smiling faintly. “I’m glad you feel like you can.”
“It’s not a pretty story.”
“Not many people’s are, I think.”
“What about you?” he asked. “I don’t mean you have to tell me your not-so-pretty story, if you have one. I meant, you mentioned you had a sister?”
“One sister, back in Queens,” I said. “She’s older. And married. Perfect husband, perfect house, perfect everything.”
“And you didn’t get the perfect gene?” Sawyer asked lightly.
“Oh no, I’m the fuck-up,” I said.
Sawyer frowned. “You don’t seem like a fuck-up to me.”
If you only knew.
“My sister went to college, I didn’t. She pursued a ‘real career’ in interior design. I didn’t. I wanted to be a dancer, which everyone knows is no way to make a living. So speaketh my parents, away.”
“Is that why you moved out here? To do your own thing?”
“Yes,” I said. “A fresh start.”
He nodded. Smiled. “Fresh starts are good. Emmett makes one every day,” he said. “Once I get this clerkship, if I get this clerkship, I’ll have one too.”
“You will get it,” I said. “You’ll pass the bar. Your brother isn’t the only one with the genius IQ.”
Sawyer waved a hand. “Nah. He’s the real deal.”
“But you have a photographic memory, right?” I blew air out my cheeks with a laugh. “I can hardly remember what I wore yesterday.”