I walk out back, past the sunroom to the familiar sounds of the outdoors, needing a little bit of fresh air. It has been a busy day, and the exhaustion is hitting hard.
Today, Mom and I talked more than we have my entire life. It’s a little surreal, but it was nice. I’m trying to tell myself not to freak out over everything, but the second I’m back home, I probably will. At the moment I haven’t had a chance to think.
A walkway of pavers that I don’t recognize leads to a swing. It’s inviting the way the solar lights navigate you from point A to point B. I follow the brick road toward it and take a seat, allowing my back to conform against the wood planks. I zip up my warm jacket and place my hands inside the pockets, before leaning my head back.
I close my eyes, listening to the dogs barking down the street along with a few kids yelling, probably being told to come inside out of the cold. Right now, it doesn’t seem like it has any advantages over the city, but in the summer it’s hard to beat.
I’ve spent many warm summer nights sitting outside, smoking with the radio down low, listening to the crickets ramble while I watched the lightning bugs show their asses; literally. I was always a little fond of country life, though I would have never admitted it. It has a certain peace that you can’t get anywhere else.
It’s amazing to me that you can have all this and then drive a couple hours down the highway and you’re in a place like Atlanta; a great big city that never slows down, never enjoys the sounds of nature, and certainly never sleeps. It’s like two different worlds existing beside each other.
I open my eyes, the black sky saying hello, glittering with its own version of diamonds. I wish Kross were here to see this. I think he’d appreciate the quiet. I push off with my feet, before picking them up as the swing moves back and forth, my hair swishing along with the movement. I haven’t done this in a long time. “Mind if I sit?”
I stop the swing with my feet, glancing up at the additional body now standing a few feet away in slim-fitting jeans and a long-sleeved thermal beneath a jacket. His hair is gelled in a way I think it’s supposed to look blow-dried. “You are aware that you look like a Hollister model, right?”
He laughs, before taking a seat beside me. “So I’ve been told. Well, model that is. I don’t think anyone has ever been quite that specific. Though, to be honest, I’m not sure that’s the whole vibe I’m going for if I want my patients to call me Dr. Andrews and actually take me seriously.”
“Might wanna tone down that whole surfer boy hairdo you have going on then. What’s up, Cale?”
“How weird is it that you’re no longer an only child?”
“I’m not completely sure I’m not lost in a twilight zone.”
“I can imagine since you weren’t here for the wedding and all. It must be strange walking into all of this. It was awkward for me and I had more time to adjust.”
A small ache in my chest catches my attention with the reminder. “Definitely not what I was expecting.”
“If it makes you feel better, she talked about you all the time. She told us things. Hard to believe some of the stuff she said.”
“How about we start off with lighter conversation before hitting the hard stuff? I’m all tapped out on emotional for today.”
“Very well then. So, you’re a tattoo artist?”
“In training.” He smiles at me. “What?”
“How does a girl that looks like you get into that line of work?”
“I like to draw. I like tattoos even more. Why is that so surprising to people?”
He shrugs. “Just is. You strike me as more of a tattoo model than the artist. How many tattoos do you have anyway? You can’t really see anything with all of the winter clothes. If it wasn’t for the facial piercings, I’d say you look completely normal.”
“Maybe because I am normal? I didn’t know an artist had a certain look,” I say, aggravated. “Not counting my sleeves in progress—my arms are close to being covered—I have eight others, but it’s only a matter of time ‘til I have more.”
“Can I see? I’ve never personally known a girl with that many tattoos. That was frowned upon at the private school I went to. If you had them, they weren’t allowed to show.”
“Only if you want my boyfriend to beat you to death before you ever get that medical degree. He doesn’t look as normal as me,” I tease.
“Okay then . . .”
An awkward silence lingers. I nudge his shoulder. “But in the spring or summer a lot of them will be on display. Maybe then.”
He smiles again. “Good to know you’ll be around. It sucks being a third wheel with those two in there.”
“So, you’re a doctor?”
“In training,” he says, a playful smirk on his face.
“How does a guy that looks like you get into that line of work?” I repeat back his question sarcastically.
“My little brother died from Leukemia at the age of four.”
My mouth drops. “I-I-Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine. I didn’t expect you to.”
“So, you’re going into . . .”
“Pediatric Oncology.”
“Wow. That’s honorable. Do you think you’ll be able to handle that daily? I can’t imagine what they must see and deal with.”
“Someone has to. If everyone looked at it from the point that kids are dying there’d never be anyone to save them. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but to save a life from ending before it’s truly had a chance to live will make the rest worth it.” He places his arm on the back of the swing behind me. I look at it. “I’m your brother, Delta. Mind out of the gutter. It’s harmless,” he teases.
“Stepbrother. I’ve heard of worse things happening. You just better be glad my boyfriend isn’t here to see this shit.”
“That never crossed my mind, but if I was going to tap into a taboo fantasy, I’m glad you look like that. It could be our little secret . . .” He pulls me closer for effect, before laughing and removing his arm.
I shove his head away, laughing along with him. He definitely takes the tension out of the room easily. I figured that out around an awkwardly silent dinner table earlier when he started talking about crap at school that was way over my head.
He leans over, forearms to thighs, and looks out in front of us. Everything becomes silent, like it was before, the two of us existing without interacting. But something occurs to me now that we’re alone and it’s appropriate conversation. “Where is your mom?”
“I thought we weren’t getting heavy.”
“Okay, fine. One for one.”
“After my brother died, she couldn’t deal. Took off. It’s just been Dad and me since. Well, ‘til your mom. She makes him happier. She gives him company, especially now that I’m away at college all the time. Since I got into medical school, it’s not as easy to make the drive home.”
“How old were you?”
“Six.”
“So, she lost one child but abandoned the other?”
He shrugs again. “I guess if that’s the way you want to look at it. Can’t say I blame her. My brother was almost an exact carbon copy of me, only two years younger. Everyone used to comment about how we missed being identical twins, even after he was gone. I reminded her of him. They say the loss of a child is like no other type of loss. It changes people. No clue where she even is. I just hope she found peace. I had enough with Dad. I’m not angry at her.”
“I wish I had your outlook on life.”
“My turn.” I turn and look at him, waiting. “What’s the real reason you and your mom haven’t spoken in years? Some of the stuff she says just doesn’t add up; at least it doesn’t seem like a bad enough reason to never speak to or see each other. If my mom came back and wanted a relationship, I would take it in a heartbeat, regardless of what she did or who she wronged. Life is too short to hold onto anger when it means cutting family out of your life.”
“It’s not really something I want to talk about. I don’t need your judgment. I barely know you.”
“I would never judge you. I’m trying to understand.”
“We had a strained relationship. I grew up without a father, and a mostly absent mother. I was alone a lot, and because of that I learned to crave the wrong kind of attention. I was starved for physical touch, for intimacy, so the first person that gave it to me I took it openly.”
“What am I missing?”
God, I didn’t realize just how shameful it was until I was forced to be open about it. Secrets don’t seem that bad when you’re the only one that knows about them. And Lux, but she doesn’t count. We know all of each other’s secrets.
I take a deep breath, my nerves attempting to get the best of me. I could never be Catholic. I don’t like this whole confessional thing. “That person was my mom’s boyfriend. We had a lengthy affair, until he told her he was leaving her for me the day of my high school graduation, without my consent. She sent me away.”
The air is stifling. “That would definitely put a damper on things,” he says, before everything becomes silent. The embarrassment slices through me like a knife cutting into butter. I never felt like this with Kross. Since day one, we have been everything the other needed. The best part is that it comes naturally. He had a way of accepting everything about me, good and bad, without making me feel like a goddamned whore waiting to be stoned, and he’s said some pretty harsh things.
I stand, preparing to walk back inside and say my goodbyes. He grabs my hand, pulling me back down into the seat. “I was thinking, not judging.”
“Thinking about?”
“That this friendship could work out in our favor. Confession is the spiritual cleansing of the soul. You could confide in me, and me in you. And because we don’t know anything about each other’s personal lives, no one else gets hurt.”
“I’m not following.”
“I need some advice, but it, too, would be frowned upon to anyone else. After that, I know you would understand. I had a feeling about you from the moment I arrived, but I needed to know what that feeling was first. I needed to know that I could trust you.”
“I’m fine not knowing; prefer it really. This doesn’t have to be a tit for tat kind of thing. What part of I’m fucked up did you not read between the lines. I hardly think I qualify to give someone advice.”
He turns and looks behind him at the house, his eyes skittering from window to window, then to the door. “What are you doing? You’re freaking me out. If you’re going to admit that you’re an ax murderer in your spare time, I know people that are worse. Choose your victim wisely.”
He glances at me, his hand gripped on the back of the swing, a smile touching his eyes but not showing on his lips. “Why do I feel like that’s not really a joke?”
The center of my brow hits twelve o’clock. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, but is that something you’d really want to risk finding out? On with it. At some point, this baby I’m incubating is going to request the heat and my boyfriend is going to psycho stalk me if I don’t get back to my phone within a reasonable time frame.”
He rubs his hands down his face. “Shit. I’m sleeping with my best friend’s fiancé. It happened after a late-night study session one night and has continued. The bad part is, we’re fucking crazy about each other. We can’t stop the madness. And now I don’t think I want to. I don’t know what to do.”
I smack his shoulder. “Way to rip off the ‘welcome to the family’ Band-Aid, Cale! Fuck, you could’ve warned me.”
“I’ve been living with this secret for months. It’s slowly destroying me. I can’t focus on my classes half the time. I’m taking time away from studying so that we can meet in secret. I need this to end, but either way, I’m going to lose someone.”
“If you are meant to be with someone, honesty is the most natural part of the relationship. When I’m around Kross, I develop diarrhea of the mouth and everything comes out. I mean, maybe you’re doing your best friend a favor. If she’s cheating on him with you then clearly, she doesn’t need to get married. And if the two of you are really in love, then maybe he’ll understand and be supportive. Just talk to him. Y’all should come clean before you get caught and it’s worse.”
He’s biting his lip, trying to hold back a laugh. “Why are you laughing? I told you I was shit at advice, but I hardly think this is funny.”
“Delta.”
“What?”
“Sarah is my best friend. Her fiancé is Troy.”
Understanding slides into place and my mouth makes an O as the drawn-out form of the word exits behind it. “I got nothin’.”
“How would you feel?”
“Well, first I would cut his dick off for cheating instead of coming to me. We’re all adults. I would rather have a chance to move on myself than to look like a fool in front of everyone.”
“Fuck. I knew we should have stopped after the first time until we could figure things out, but it was so much better than I ever thought it’d be.”
“Whoa, no. No details.”
“Sorry. This is what he does to me! I can’t focus!”
“Have you always been?”
“No. We’re each other’s first. Always been with females in the past. It’s great, but this is something else entirely. I think I’m in love with him.”
“Well . . . I can certainly see the appeal with cock, obviously, and especially with the right person or baby B wouldn’t be in existence. It’s great. BUT. You need to tell her. God, I’ve always thought that’d be a girl’s worst nightmare—for a man to leave her for another man. At least if it’s a woman there is some form of competition. Talk about something that could deflate your ego and destroy your sexual self-esteem . . .”
“I don’t want to hurt her. We met at State freshman year. She’s important to me. If we hadn’t hit it off so well as friends, I would have tried to date her.”
“Oh, I think it’s safe to say that ship has sailed if she loved him enough to say yes. Cheating scenarios are never going to end happily. The good news is forgiveness is a powerful tool. Kind of why I’m still here,” I mumble.
“I guess you’re right.”
“You two are going to catch a cold. If you’re going to stay outside at least build a fire for her, Cale. Where are your manners?”
We glance back at the same time to Jim hanging out the door. “Okay, Dad. I think we’re about to come inside.”
I yawn as he shuts the door, remembering I still have a long drive ahead of me. “I think that’s my cue to go. I still have to drive back to Atlanta and it’s getting late.”
He follows behind me as I stand. “Hey, Delta? Mind keeping this between us? I need to permanently sort things out before I talk to Dad. He has certain . . . beliefs. Something like that I can’t take back.”
“Not my secret to tell, Cale. We all have them. The good thing about secrets is that you choose who gets to be a part of them.”
I begin walking toward the house. He keeps pace, but before we get to the door, he nudges my shoulder like earlier. “I think I’m going to like having a sister.”
And me—I think I’m going to like having a family . . .
