An elbow in my rib and a quiet, “Sorry,” wakes me up. My seat neighbor is trying her best to jostle her carry-on from under her seat. But she finally wrangles things free and we are the last two off the plane.

“So, you sleep like an old man,” she says, walking down the narrow tunnel to the terminal. She shoulders her backpack and her bag. “My name is Jessica.”

She’s probably my age. “I like your hair. Platinum blonde is straight boss,” I say.

“Thanks. And yours…” She forces a smile. It gleams along with her stark blue eyes. “That’s neat. A gray streak? Did you put it in yourself?” she says. “It’s an interesting contrast to this brown you have. Did you do that yourself too?”

“Uhm no. Also it’s not gray, it’s translucent.” I rub the strands between my fingers. I smirk but she doesn’t seem to like my dead-pan, sarcasm. To be fair, it’s not really humor or sarcasm. It doesn’t land well. I say, “My name is Lyla.”

“Oh, I thought it was Tula.”

“What?” I say. “How did you-”

She chuckles. “Your mom at the terminal. She called you Tula.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I like Lyla though.”

I don’t remember her at the terminal but then again, why would I? So many people. So many.

“Okay,” she says, distracted with her phone.

And that was my first interaction as technically legal and mildly independent adult.

Oh my, oh my.

“Yo! Lyla!” my brother yells at baggage claim. I haven’t seen him in so long, his hair is wild and wavy. He’s a lot taller too. I skip-hop and so does he, like when we were kids, and hug. We were close when he left, so his gap-year turned no-college years, has seem like a lifetime. He smacks my cheek and says, “I cannot wait for you to go to the ol’ g-rents place. I have so much to friggin’ tell you about.”

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He wears a braided necklace with a white amulet encased in silver. “So,” I say, “you going to tell me about your new woke apparel?”

Levon grabs his necklace and says, “Dude. You got to tell me so friggin’ much. Like how mom is. Like really is, not how she is when she’s hovering over you on the phone. Then I wanna know about which college you’ve been dreaming of because you aren’t gonna want to go to college after we gotta get back to the host.”

“The host?”

“I mean the g-rents cabin. You remember that place?”

“Barely.”

“Well settle in sis because we got four long hours together, some burritos to devour, and so friggin’ much to talk about.”

“Oh-friggin’-kay.”

He must have picked up some new lingo. This will not be annoying. Catch my sarcasm?

Levon has an old Cadillac. It’s shiny and black and not like the Levon back home but he’s happy which is how he’s always been. Still my brother.

“Smells like French fries,” I say.

“Good.” He starts the car. “I tried to make it smell like that. Glad it’s working.”

“How could it not?”

He eyes someone walking in front of our car which happens to be did you do that yourself Jessica. I wave and he hits my hand. “Don’t,” he says. “Don’t wave to that.”

“That is my new friend, Jessica. She’s super friendly.”

He pretends to laugh. “I see mom told you nothing,” he says, “as usual.”

“So are you going to tell me all the friggin’ cool things and stuff and how you know Jessica and what Mom is supposed to tell me?” The air conditioning blows the hair away from his face. A black bruise covers most of his jaw. I poke it, of course. “And this?”

He sighs. It’s more like a phlegmy scoff-sigh. Still my brother. “Let’s get to the g-rents and until then. Let’s eat. And you tell me everything that’s been going on.” He riffles through my bag and grabs my charm. “Oh thank God. You brought the talisman, Tula.” He winks and says, “Damn I miss mom.”

I wish my brother was a strange bird, an alliteration-loving being.

Eclectic.

Or eccentric.

Levon never was those things but he’s picked up more than the local eidos. Culture. He never had any sort of ecchymoses on his jaw. And I expect this encouragement for me to explain all the events that happened since he’s been on exodus, is a lazy attempt at extemporization. I’d find an e word to express how he is now but I can’t think of one. I can only think that my brother is teetering on peculiar. He’s peculiar now. Not extra ordinary as before.

Peculiar.

Like Jessica watching us leave the parking lot.