Our family can't. We haven't.
I don't know what to say, so I stick with the truth. What I'm willing to share, at least.
Imogen: I didn't end things.
Julie: !!
Imogen: I talked to him. We dealt with it, like adults.
Julie: Yeah, you're a bastion of maturity, staring at your phone all night, needing your high school sister to talk you into conversation.
Imogen: I know, right?
Julie: Seriously, Immy, where are the details!
Imogen: What details?
Julie: "We handled it like adults" isn't a real description of events. What really happened?
Everything. Nothing. There are a million places to start.
My depressive phase, my attempt, my inability to broach it with Mom, to confess to anyone.
That's the problem with Patrick too.
Or maybe it's not a problem.
It stopped feeling like a problem last night. But maybe that's the sex talking. Or something else.
Imogen: I want to tell you, I do. But it's his. It's not mine to share.
Julie: What you found about him?
Imogen: Yes.
That's not totally true, but it's true enough.
Imogen: It's between the two of us.
Julie: I guess that's sweet, that you're keeping his secret.
Imogen: It means I'll keep yours.
Julie: Trust me. I know you keep secrets.
Is it that obvious?
Julie: I guess everyone does. I didn't mean it as an accusation. I'm just worried.
Imogen: You don't need to worry about me.
Julie: I do.
Imogen: Not with him.
Julie: Especially with him. I remember you and Zack. What a train wreck.
Imogen: It wasn't that bad.