Year Four/Week One – Present
“Can you get that?” Mom called from the living room.
I knew who it was before I answered the door. Baxter’s Chevy was parked on the side of the road.
“Hey,” I greeted, letting my brother inside.
He nodded, his tall frame filling most of the doorway. “What’s up, Jace?”
“Nothing, just got back from school.” I shut the door behind us, running my fingers through my hair. “Are we taking photos today?”
Baxter was a photographer, and the best one at that. Maybe I was a little biased because he was my older brother, but he was too talented to not get the recognition he deserved.
“Can’t.” He made his way around the hall, stepping beside the couch. “Hi Mom.”
“Hey Bax,” she smiled. She always had happy eyes around my brothers. “Nice of you to come by.”
“Yeah, I was trying to call Will. Thought he showed up here after golf but he might still be on the course.”
I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms. “Will didn’t tell me he was at golf.”
“Why would he tell you, kid?” Baxter laughed, leaning down to pet Sadie. “He’s with the vets.”
Our chocolate lab returned his cuddles, embracing the warmth my brother directed towards her. The warmth he rarely gave me.
“I’m twenty-one,” I stated, as if I had something to prove. I always did. At least to my older brothers.
“Yeah, and the vets are thirty. Bit of a jump there, Jace.”
Will worked as a financial analyst downtown. A few years ago, when he’d landed that position, my brothers and I coined his co-workers as “the vets” because they pranced around the office like veterans of war. I never thought Will would turn into one of them.
I never thought a lot of things would happen.
“Say,” he started. “When are you getting a car?”
“When I can afford one.”
He laughed. It was condescending. Everything my brothers did lately seemed to be.
“Can’t afford shit if you don’t work.”
“Hey, language,” Mom warned, lowering the television volume. “He’s going to work when he graduates, aren’t you Jace?”
This was always the topic of conversation. I hated that I felt inferior to Will, Baxter and Scott. Being the youngest of four brothers, there wasn’t much room to grow even if I wanted to. In their eyes, I’d always be a kid.
In their eyes, I’d always be beneath them.
“Don’t be sad about the soccer stuff, Jace. Sometimes things don’t work out,” Baxter said, as if I mentioned the sport in a silent exchange.
“I didn’t say anything about soccer.”
“No, but you’re always thinking about it. Can’t beat yourself up over stale bread. Get out there,” he insisted, twirling his keys. “Find a new job. Find a purpose.”
Find a purpose. As if that was the easiest thing in the world. To find a purpose when everyone around you already found theirs. When it was instilled on them since birth. When the one thing you loved, the career you thought you’d be working towards, crumbled beneath your feet.
“It’s not that easy.” I adjusted my shirt, glancing down at my arms. I’d been working out. I wanted Baxter to see that I wasn’t a fucking loser.
He laughed, but it was sarcastic. “Nothing ever is. You make your own luck in this world, Jace.” He pinched Mom’s arm before heading towards the door.
“Hey!” she sniped, rubbing red skin. “You’re twenty-six, Bax. Quit doing that.”
He laughed, but it was genuine. “Old habits never die,” then turned to me and punched my shoulder. “See you, kid.”
Kid.
Kid.
Kid.
“My name’s Jace,” I mumbled, barely a whisper. Who would have heard it?
Who would have wanted to?
