A New Lens

Dani pulled through the hotel’s entrance circle and spotted her brother outside dressed in a thin jacket and jeans, his shoulders hunched against the chill. He slid into the passenger seat, and as they greeted one another she took in the dark circles under his eyes. Ben was in D.C. for a conference, but when she’d called to invite him out, she learned he’d skipped another company dinner, mentioning a vague illness. Instead of catching up over a beer, she’d talked him into a trip to Urgent Care.

They managed the long wait at the clinic watching YouTube videos on Ben’s phone, heads bowed together. He was gone for 45 minutes, but returned with an upright posture, his step lighter on the walk to the car.

“Hey, thanks for taking me tonight,” he said, leaning forward in the passenger seat. “Since we’re out, do you want to grab dinner? I’m starving.”

Dani felt absurdly pleased by the acknowledgment of her help. “You seem to be feeling better. Did you get a painkiller?”

“They gave me a shot,” he said simply.

She stole a quick glance while navigating traffic on DuPont Circle, assessing the evasion. “What was in that shot, and can I get one?”

“Right?” he said, a smile lighting his face. He flipped on the radio. “Do you mind if I check the game?”

Dani let the matter drop. He’d object to a direct question, and worse, the approach would deflate his mood. “How does Jaleo sound?”

Ben ordered tapas in rounds. The little plates kept coming, filling every available space on the table. He ate ravenously, pausing to describe his new apartment, the move to New Jersey. Dani picked through her plate and pushed aside little charred peppers which lit her mouth on fire. Ben plucked them onto his own plate in the way her ex used to, casually reaching over and spearing food as they talked. She missed the intimacy of the act, his knowledge of her tastes, and how, like Ben, he always selected the best dishes on a menu.

“Have you heard from Shawna recently?” she asked.

Ben paused while the waiter placed a fresh Coke in the spot where an IPA normally rested. “We don’t communicate, Dani. She’s dead to me. If she needs a document signed, she can talk to my lawyer.”

His matter-of-fact tone emphasized the words’ finality. Shawna’s abrupt transition to estranged ex was an adjustment Ben claimed he’d processed long before the family knew. Dani supposed she hadn’t communicated her own separation any better. She pressed her shoulder blades together and felt little pops of released tension. “Alex is pushing me to come for Easter. Have you heard from her?”

“Are you asking if I’ve received multiple messages planning a gathering three months in the future?” he said, his pursed lips hiding a smile.

Dani avoided a conspiratorial reply — the two united against their sister’s demands. “It’s not like either of us offered to host.”

“That’s fine, but why does she turn Easter into such a big production?”

“Come on, you know how she is.” Alex loved a good roast, a perfectly set table, the same way their grandmother and mother did.

Dani took Alex’s side despite a lingering dread of Easter’s obligations — the endless, formal Catholic mass, the pressure to get along. Last year, with the holiday falling weeks after their mother’s funeral, Dani and Ben broke with tradition; he stayed at his place while she accepted a brunch invitation. The morning unfolded sipping mimosas, her friends snapping photos of their children racing across the backyard with wicker Easter baskets. No one drilled her on dating prospects or asked if she’d frozen her eggs. The day’s lightness served as a reprieve, a sabbatical earned after long years of service.

“Funny timing, right after they finished renovations on the house,” Ben said.

“I don’t know, I’m curious to see what she’s done with Grandma’s place. Are you in?” Dani didn’t mention the family photo project their niece Annabelle had initiated, recruiting her help from afar.

Ben pushed his plate away and nodded agreement. She raised her glass and he lifted his Coke in unison.

* * *

Two weeks later, Dani was cooking dinner when Alex’s name flashed on her phone’s screen.

“Ben’s been diagnosed with bipolar disorder,” Alex said almost the moment Dani picked up. Alex never held back, never softened her delivery. She hauled out bad news like she was ripping out an unruly weed, with no attention to the gap created. “Shawna called. She figured someone in the family should be aware.”

The words popped the optimistic bubble Dani had created around her evening with Ben, and she fought an urge to challenge the statement flat-out. “Where is this coming from? Isn’t bipolar identified by your early 20s?” She’d seen Ben deal with depression, but how had her family missed the other side?

“The gene can be triggered by stress, a flip of the ‘on’ switch brings out the first cycles.”

Dani tamped down her reaction, feeling the sting of her brother’s omission. “What does Ben say about this diagnosis?”

“I’m not sure he’s ready to accept the truth.”

Dani considered Ben’s situation that night while she dismantled an old photo album, carefully excising photos of the siblings from aged plastic sheeting. Ben’s social issues stretched back to elementary school, with numerous phone calls from teachers aggravated by his willfulness and battles over test scores, followed by return complaints from her parents about kids bullying him. Dani watched his struggles from the sidelines, until Ben’s growth spurt and natural athleticism landed him a spot on the basketball team and elevated his status.

She couldn’t ignore how the diagnosis sorted the past and his recent behaviors — the nebulous symptoms, the missed work, his transformation at the clinic. A slight lens adjustment and the image cleared, his shift out of depression into something entirely different.

* * *

April brought a mix of sunshine and lingering dark clouds, leftovers from a dreary March. The view outside the train’s window disappeared as it entered the tunnels, and the grating screech of the PA announced their arrival at New York’s Penn Station. Dani gathered her bags, disoriented. She spilled out onto the platform with what fell like the rest of humanity, riding the crowds, searching for the subway exit before descending a darkened staircase reeking of urine. As a child Dani traveled to the city from Long Island by car, tucked snugly in the back between her siblings. Her extended family were born-and-bred New Yorkers, taking from the city what they wanted and ignoring the rest, while she experienced the city as an assault on the senses.

A ping roused her on the subway, where passengers squeezed together on the hard benches and studied their phones or swayed uneasily in sleep. Dani found her phone in time to see a text from Ben.

Don’t know if I can do it.

Sighing, she typed: Everyone is expecting you, before deleting and writing: Always good to see you.

She resisted saying anything more; pushing Ben never ended well. She sensed in his last-minute retreats a new normal. Absences Alex would take personally.

Once in Brooklyn, Dani detoured on foot to an Italian bakery on 86th street she knew carried traditional amaretto cakes. Chinese restaurants and markets currently dominated Bay Ridge, the demographics altered from her childhood, when her grandparents, aunts, and uncles all lived within a 10-block radius and the streets were filled with Italian speakers.

Dani stopped at another ping, reshuffled cake box and bags, and fished out her phone.

Ben: On the train heading over. Skipping Easter Mass — giving a heads up.

Dani stashed the phone, conscious of a flutter in her stomach. Neither sibling had a clue which battle they’d be engaging in — Ben taking his stand about Mass and Alex fixating on his mental health. Thrusting Dani into position as a go-between was typical. It didn’t mean she’d agreed to the role.

The neighborhood of 75th street unfolded into clearly defined properties, tiny plots of grass hemmed in by metal fences and cluttered with lawn ornaments. A Catholic influence remained. Figurines of the Virgin Mary, hands outspread, appeared alongside political posters, plastic gnomes, and large polka-dotted Easter eggs. Alex had planted herbs in a miniature raised bed. She’d grown up a suburban kid, but settled into the city like a local.

The sound of the doorbell sent her back in time to childhood visits, her family waiting for her grandmother to appear at the glass door with her ritual greeting: “Why so late?”

“Annabelle! Company’s here!” The door opened in a rush, dogs charging the door, the family clustered around the entrance. She’d barely said hello before Alex cut in with commands for Annabelle to “Tell your Aunt Daniela about your concert!” and “Show Aunt Daniela your biology award!” Her attempts to facilitate instant bonding were met with silence; the well-meaning effort implied to Dani that she was unable to forge a way with her niece independent of her sister.

At 14, Annabelle towered over Dani like Alex did, but her fair hair and hazel eyes reflected her father’s coloring. Dani passed over the cake box to Alex and asked after her brother-in-law.

“He’s in San Diego. He was held over for a board meeting on Tuesday,” Alex said.

“Then who will choose wine for the weekend?” she asked, a smile covering her disappointment. John kept the liquor flowing and the conversations light.

Alex responded with a little head tilt, eyebrows pressed together, a look honed over decades to show disapproval. “With Benji’s situation? Is that appropriate?”

Dani raised a hand in surrender and excused herself to the living room while Annabelle trailed the cake to the kitchen. The dogs stood uncertainly as substitute hosts, until a signal sent them charging away and a knock at the front door started the circus anew.

Dani offered Ben a hug, which he leaned in briefly to accept. He looked well-put-together, dark hair trimmed, a striped oxford tucked into crisp chinos. He was leaner than when she’d seen him in the winter. Alex entered with a vase of flowers, placing them on the sideboard and putting an arm around her daughter.

“The house feels bigger,” Dani said, gesturing to the open concept design. She superimposed images from childhood — the space broken up in a series of small, dark sitting areas, rooms repurposed time after time to accommodate extended family members. “Mom would’ve appreciated that you kept the — her photo wall.” She caught herself mid-gaffe, before using Ben’s nickname “the shrine.”

Their parents’ painted wedding portrait remained front and center, beside Alex and John’s. Alex had removed Ben’s wedding photo; the siblings were represented in an image from a summer day at Fire Island. Sandy and tousle-haired, the three squinted up at the camera from their perch on a blanket, Dani squeezed in the middle.

After Alex led a tour of the house, she excused herself to the kitchen. Annabelle escaped duty by inviting Ben to play videogames in the basement. Dani offered to take her place, smiling, knowing he would blow his niece out of the water — his competitive spirit and eye-hand coordination were equal to any game, old school or new.

Bay windows brightened the granite countertop where Alex worked. Dani pictured her grandmother in the same spot, bent over a batch of stuffed mushrooms on the old Formica counter, her supplies in easy reach on a wooden shelf.

She chose a simple task from the to-do list posted on the fridge: chopping vegetables. Alex began the final preparations for the Pane di Pasqua, dividing the bread dough into braids, her movements confident, assured. She basted the tops with egg, then slipped in colored Easter eggs, one for each family member. Baking the sweet bread was a tradition retained only by her sister.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asked, aware of Dani’s attention.

“Nothing. I was wondering how you can re-create this from memory.”

She shrugged. “Would you like the recipe?”

Dani turned down the offer, knowing she lacked the skill and patience to bake from scratch, the way her sister had learned. What diversions had drawn her and Ben away those afternoons while Alex baked with their grandmother?

Alex covered the bread, wiped her hands on an apron dusty with flour, and leaned back against the counter. “After Annabelle goes upstairs, let’s talk to Ben, ask how the treatment’s going.”

“I don’t know, Alex. Ben doesn’t respond well to confrontation.”

“We’re not confronting him,” Alex said. “We’re here for support. I have a recommendation for an excellent psychiatrist.”

“I’m sure Ben can find his own doctors. He’s an adult, after all.”

Alex blew out a breath. “Did he tell you he resigned from his job?”

“The EPA job?” She paused in her chopping, knife in mid-air.

Alex’s eyes widened, seizing on Dani’s ignorance. “The inability to hold down a job is a warning sign. If Ben gets worse, he may need to be hospitalized.”

“Do you really think it will come to that?”

“I hope not, but we should be ready.”

“Ready meaning what?”

“A medical proxy, executor …”

“Alex, Easter weekend isn’t the time for legalities.” Underneath her sister’s practicality, Dani felt pulled toward the impulse to place a label on Ben that defined him, boxed him in.

“You and Ben would like nothing more than to bury your heads in the sand. This isn’t going away.”

* * *

Conversation moved haltingly at dinner. Without her brother-in-law’s presence, Dani geared up to buffer tensions. Like her parents, she’d never mastered the ability.

“How’s the digital photo project going, Aunt Dani?” Annabelle asked into the silence.

Dani smiled; Annabelle had inherited her father’s diplomacy. “Would you like to see what I have so far? I’ve begun with scrapbooks Grandma gave the three of us.”

“Mom, can we look now if I promise to do dishes later?”

Alex directed them to the living room, and Dani set the slides to occur in random order. In the first, teenage Dani, Alex, and their cousin Rosa linked arms by the Washington Monument. The picture brought to mind the morning before the long elevator ride to the Monument’s tower, when they’d visited the Natural History Museum. The three girls had veered off to the gems exhibit, united in purpose, admiring one glittering jewel after another and declaring each emerald or ruby or sapphire to be their favorite.

Annabelle gestured to an image of their grandfather sitting outside in a metal folding chair surrounded by family, a five- or six-year-old Dani on one side, Ben on the other. Alex stood tall in the back row with their mother and grandmother. “Mom, you have the same picture in your album!”

“Yes, this was one of our end-of-school-year visits.” Dani yielded to Alex’s superior memory for dates and details.

A photo from Ben’s Eagle Scout ceremony lit up the screen. Ben, in a neatly pressed Scout uniform, faced the camera with a ready grin. The photographer caught their mother in motion, face blurred as she turned, gazing at their father. Disjointed images lingered in Dani’s memory — the impersonal hall, folding metal chairs, and solemn flag processionals. The ritual’s significance passed over her.

“Uncle Benji, I didn’t know you were a Boy Scout,” Annabelle said.

Ben, quiet during the discussion, studied the photo. “Yes, after a dozen arguments with Dad about finishing what I started, about what it would look like on my transcript.”

Alex said, “I would have appreciated Dad’s effort, and yes, how it helped your college prospects. Dani and I didn’t have anything like that honor in Girl Scouts, isn’t that right?”

Dani felt everyone’s eyes on her, but before she could find the right words to explain, to deflect an argument, Ben abruptly excused himself. She waited a moment and followed him, earning a disapproving “Must you?” from Alex. Annabelle’s attention shifted between her mother and aunt, one eyebrow raised.

“Give him a moment, okay?” Dani said, unwilling to strip away her irritated tone. Despite her research, Alex failed to recognize anxiety displayed right in front of her. Their mother showed the same tone deafness over Ben’s moods, following on his heels when he escaped to his room after school. She’d told Dani once, “When your brother sealed himself off, I marched in, closed the door, and said I wouldn’t leave until he talked.” Had Ben shared his feelings during the forced confessionals?

Dani stepped into the backyard and settled in a deck chair near Ben, the same spot from the photo with their grandparents. She’d left out of the slideshow a casual photo taken immediately before or after, where she’d lounged in the chair laughing at some funny remark from Ben, who stood beside her in shorts and socks, pointing dramatically. She had no memory of the day.

Ben unwrapped a new pack of cigarettes and lit up. Her mother had blamed Shawna for the habit, but Dani suspected his smoking preceded the relationship.

“The trip down memory lane a bit much?” she asked.

He shook his head, blew out a stream of smoke, and dropped the match into a plastic cup at his feet. “That photo at the Eagle Scout ceremony, Mom gazing adoringly at Dad. Do you remember us being that happy? I remember the nagging, the family fights. No one takes photos of those precious moments.”

Dani doubted her brother saw his role in family tensions, the Christmas Eve he’d fretted about his chemistry grade and ensnared the whole family in his mood. After dinner they’d all retreated to their own spaces for the rest of the holiday.

“Sure, I do — lying awake excited the night before our trip to D.C., excited to see Rosa.” Family tensions had eased when they were away.

Ben studied the cigarette in his hand, as if surprised to find it there. “I remember Mom on that trip, dragging us to museums and standing in line in the rain at the White House, but Rosa and Aunt Renata and Uncle Ray being there? I drew a complete blank.”

How could a shared experience result in their fundamental difference in memory? D.C.’s natural charm, the cherry blossoms in peak bloom, and her delight at Alex and Rosa’s inclusion of her, had imprinted itself upon Dani. She’d bonded with the city, with the tulips and the cherry blossoms, with the Hope Diamond and the view of its four quadrants. The city she’d later made her home.

The light faded as silence stretched out between them. Sounds of traffic drifting back were muted by the high fences bordering the yards on each side. Ben was lost in thought. The temperature dropped steadily; she pulled her legs in and wrapped her arms around them.

“I like what Alex has done with the house. It’s more modern, brighter.”

Ben exhaled with a grin. “The shrine is threatening to engulf the living room.”

If the absence of his wedding photo rankled, it didn’t show. Dani considered its removal a kindness; she’d faced her own wedding portrait on the wall for two years post-divorce. Questioning her mother would have divulged the sentiment behind the choice, likely sorrow or disapproval, and Dani hadn’t wanted to know. She’d quietly taken possession when they divided her mother’s belongings.

Ben caught her eye. “I’m concerned Alex will launch an intervention this weekend.”

“You’re not wrong. We’re in store for a discussion at the very least,” she responded.

“What does big sis want to know?” He tried for casual, but didn’t quite pull it off.

“Alex is anxious you’re not following your treatment.” Alex had used the word compliant. Ben didn’t reply, but Dani waited him out.

“My doctor says the right meds can ‘take the edge off.’ The problem is, I don’t want to give up those highs, the bursts of energy. I’m not even sure I want to lose the edge.”

“Really? Given the option, I’d be on my second drink by now.”

“Is that why there wasn’t wine at dinner?”

“We’re being supportive,” she said.

“I don’t know if I can explain my resistance. Sure, dealing with anxiety and depression sucks. But the flip side are times I feel anything is possible. I meet people every day without any passion, who spend all their time at work because they have no imagination to create other options. I’ve rejected that life.”

“I get it, but from what I’ve read — ”

Ben lifted an eyebrow.

“Yes, Alex sends me research.” Dani had added to Alex’s recommended readings, stacking her nightstand with firsthand accounts of individuals navigating the condition. “The cycles can become worse, making it harder to figure out you need help.”

“Dani, I’ve crawled out of that hole before. The two of you should trust me, respect my decision making.”

“Yes, but — ”

“I’m listening to my doctor, and trying meds, okay?”

“Okay.” A slew of questions ran through her mind. Would he consider other meds if the first were ineffective? A different therapist? “Will you tell me — ”

The screen door squeaked and Alex leaned out. “Annabelle is heading upstairs. Can you both come say good night?”

“We’ll be right in.”

The door snapped shut. “What is Annabelle, five?” Ben demanded. “Can’t she just pop out here?” He stubbed out his cigarette and went in, the conversation over, the moment gone.

Alex waited inside the door. Her expression gave no indication of whether she’d heard the snarky comment. “I don’t understand why you encourage him, Daniela.”

Her sister’s focus on his smoking fell comically off the mark, as if she’d come in at the wrong angle to the scene and bounced off the surface. Dani let the comment slide, slipping past her sister.

She was sitting with Annabelle on her bed a few minutes later scrolling through photos when an argument in the hallway intruded. John and Alex rarely bickered, especially when Annabelle was in the room, but Dani had seen her niece shrink away at a party when family members argued. Dani commiserated; she was the kind of teenager who turned away when a fist fight broke out in her high school, while other students gathered around to cheer on the action.

Alex’s voice was low, muffled, but Ben’s rose in volume. “For God’s sake, Alex, I’m not sleeping on anyone’s couch.”

Dani poked her head out into the hall. “What’s going on? Why don’t we go downstairs, have a cup of tea before we talk?” She sent Alex to make the tea, effectively separating the two.

Minutes later, Alex set a tray on the coffee table, undeterred. “Can we talk jobs for one more minute? I have colleagues who are looking for contractors here in Brooklyn.”

“Are you looking for a new job?” Dani asked, averting the question of the EPA.

Ben turned toward her with a blank look before responding to Alex. “I’m sending out feelers. I’ll be fine.” He accepted the mug, then set it down on the table untouched.

“I’m sure you will,” Alex said, her brows pressed together. “One thing I was looking into was family group therapy. We could participate virtually, set up a monthly check-in.”

Furrows appeared in Ben’s forehead; she’d taken it too far. He leaned forward in the chair; Alex leaned back in response. “I don’t owe you my story,” he said, slowly. “I didn’t even owe it to Mom. As long as I’m managing my affairs, that’s what they are — my affairs.”

Alex stiffened. Dani had seen the reaction before, those times as a teen with her hands clenched at her sides as she fought to hold back tears. She felt a prick of tears in her own in response to the harshness underlying her brother’s words.

Ben took the opening, standing up and pushing back the chair. “Are we done here, since we’ve established I do have plans?” Without waiting for an answer, he left the room.

“Alex — ” Dani started, but her sister’s expression, a warning, stopped her cold. She returned Ben’s tea cup to the tray along with her own. Annabelle’s room at the top of the stairs was dark, but the door was ajar. Had her niece left the door open to listen in on the rest of the conversation downstairs? Dani tapped lightly on the door; if Annabelle was awake, she didn’t want to talk.

* * *

Easter Mass, with its rituals and ceremony, unfolded like a performance. The priest observed from above as a female lector segued from the scripture reading into the responsorial psalm, shifting from a defined Brooklyn accent into a pure, unaccented soprano. Dani, struggling to follow the service, surreptitiously checked Annabelle’s page numbers in the missal. Alex, eagle-eyed, pointed out each section, likely fighting an impulse to turn the pages for her.

Brunch followed the service; Annabelle’s enthusiastic banter about her soccer team kept the conversation upbeat. Ben, visibly relieved, began his goodbyes immediately after the pastries were passed, waving off Alex’s attempts to keep him longer.

“We should make plans before you go,” she said, gesturing to the living room.

“Next time,” he answered, his voice firm, and retrieved his suitcase. A few minutes later, she and Alex were carrying dishes from the table and setting the kitchen to rights.

“I can’t believe you didn’t back me up when I asked Ben to stay.”

Alex’s tone alerted Dani; her sister’s face was mottled with red. “He’s an adult. What would you have me do?” Her own face had grown warm, flushed.

“I refuse to be the only one worrying about Ben.”

Dani felt her own temper flare. “Do you think I don’t worry, I didn’t worry back in school about the bullying, when Pete Schnieder kept threatening to beat him up?”

“I can’t recall you speaking up before.”

“When did anyone in the family listen to my thoughts on serious issues?”

“Then does his job loss concern you? The divorce? The crazy diets, his gluten-free phase?” Alex asked. “What inspires an Italian to go gluten-free?”

“Maybe he’s getting back on his feet. You have no idea what it’s like being single, making every decision by yourself.” Dani wasn’t sure if she was referring to Ben or to her own situation. Becoming single had changed the fabric of her days, the structure loosened without a partner, without the merging of schedules, planning dinners, and evenings deciding whether to paint the bedroom over a long weekend or escape to a cozy inn.

“It’s not like I have a spouse right now. In effect, I’m single this weekend, too, with John away.”

Dani stared at her sister. Was she equating partnership with physical proximity? Alex’s husband was a call, a text away, their separation merely a question of logistics. In days he’d return home and resume the teamwork, washing dishes after dinner while Alex checked Annabelle’s homework, or paying bills while she relaxed in a bath. Her sister’s precise view wasn’t wide enough to allow for different perspectives. “Look, Ben told me last night he’s taking meds his doctor prescribed.”

“Did he tell you which ones?”

“No … Alex, I want to help, but alienating him isn’t the way.”

“And hoping for the best isn’t the way, either. Without my initiative, we wouldn’t even be together for Easter.”

Which might not be the worst thing. Ben was right; it would be easier visiting when the holiday and its memories didn’t loom over them. “We’re here, and we’re trying, Alex. I can’t guarantee anything else.”

* * *

Dani logged on to her work account as the train pulled out of the station, but then exited the server minutes later, her concentration insufficient for dense legal briefs. Alex had insisted on seeing her off, standing at the door in a robe with a coffee cup in her hand. Despite the hard feelings evident in her sister’s stiff posture, the lingering tightness in Dani’s chest had begun to loosen.

She sensed how close her family had come to splintering off in opposite directions, and appreciated Alex’s willingness to pull them together, but maintaining their bond required a balancing act. As a friend advised, “Getting past this means a certain amount of crap to push through, but what’s the alternative?” The alternative, the three barely keeping in touch, felt like a defeat, but Dani refused to sacrifice her relationship with her brother. She and Ben had their own history, and an unknown future to protect.

Her phone pinged. Annabelle: Sorry I missed you! When will you be back? Sending pics.

Three photos followed: a snapshot from behind Dani and Alex in the kitchen; a selfie of Annabelle and Ben gaming; and a group photo snapped before brunch. Her niece had skimmed off the best moments, erased rough spots Ben claimed illustrated the real story.

Dani pulled up her digital album. In the process of scanning photos, she’d encountered events from her childhood not quite familiar, like a scene briefly glimpsed out of the corner of her eye. Night after night she’d pored over the images, attempting to interpret Ben’s emotional states, ultimately giving up the enterprise as futile. Memories of her own childhood were foggy; it wasn’t reasonable to believe she’d uncover her brother’s mindset from decades-old snapshots.

Who knew which memories Annabelle would retain without the push and pull of siblings or cousins? She couldn’t leave her niece adrift, untethered; Dani would find the means to straddle the past and the present.

I’ll make plans with your mom. And — I’ll talk to Uncle Ben. Dani sent the message, then set the slideshow to loop, the newest pictures blending in with the old.