Chapter 4 #2
The target can be anyone. It’s not a set thing, sometimes it’s the rise of this or the downfall of that.
All of them make me feel sick, but it’s when he talks about the duty of a man and his wife that I’m lucky if I’m not swallowing back bile before he gets to Leviticus.
But none of the actual words he uses are swears or vile, they shouldn’t bother me like they do.
Even if I’m not listening word for word, they still drag over my ears like nails on a chalkboard.
There’s no reason I have a full body reaction to them, but I do nonetheless.
Subtly, Brady passes me an extremely sour hard candy that he somehow got out of the wrapper without me noticing.
He nudges my arm when I hesitate to bring it to my mouth.
Truthfully, I’m not sure if it’ll tip my stomach over the edge.
I’m walking a delicate line between puking on my only good pair of church shoes and curling up on this dusty velvet bench hoping for sleep that never ends.
There are few things I hate more than a bad day falling on a Sunday.
Sundays in general suck, but there’s something so insulting about having to go through the motions when it takes this much out of me.
Deciding to risk it, I pop the candy in my mouth and cross my fingers for the best. The thought briefly enters my mind that I should pray.
Pastor Mike says to never cease praying.
Mom and Dad do just about everything, no matter how small.
Pray for green lights when they’re in a rush.
Pray the cookies don’t burn in the oven when the heating element was a bit on the fritz.
But even in those small moments, they genuinely feel like it helps.
They feel connected to the process. There isn’t one part of me that does, that’s how I know there’s something wrong with me.
I think it’s why Brady tries so hard to keep my secrets hidden. Our parents would accuse me of not turning to God to take away my pain, then they’d know for sure that I’m not like them when it still wouldn’t work. That every Sunday feels like a noose around my neck, not a time for salvation.
As the candy slowly begins to dissolve, the dark thoughts fade into the much more tolerable buzzing. It’s still uncomfortable, but at least it’s not the stabbing pain that leaves me gasping for air.
Brady’s right, it gets me through the service, and he crafts some believable tale that gets us out the door as soon as they open them. Mom says she and Dad will stay for the fellowship and whatever else comes after, and we hightail it home.
Like usual, Brady won’t let me be miserable and alone, no matter how much I resist. Secretly, when the pain in my heart makes me wince and there’s another human there, one that always seems to know when I need a little extra affection, I’m thankful for his pushy attitude.
It keeps me safe when nothing else does.
He keeps me safe.
~~~
“Finally, you answer me,” my brother groans when our video chat connects.
I smile despite myself. I’ve missed his dramatics since he moved out. “I missed your call by, like, five minutes.”
He glowers at me, though there’s no heat in it. “Exactly. What if you died, Eas?”
It takes less than thirty seconds for the facade to crack, a massive grin that splits his face. “You gettin’ bored without someone to give hell to, brother?”
Brady likes fussing over me, I don’t know how he’s handling being so far away when the only person he’s been directing all that energy towards is across the country from him.
His sigh is long-suffering. “Something like that, maybe.” Yeah, I kinda figured since he’s called me every night since he got there. Not that I mind. I’m more or less lost here without him, but there’s no way I’m telling him that. “How was your day? Did your history test go okay?”
I snort. He worries about me more than Mom or Dad ever have. “Yeah, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Everyone is gettin’ excited about homecoming, so they’re being extra nice about homework and studying.”
Brady makes a face that I don’t bother trying to interpret. “Are you gonna go?”
My nose scrunches up in confusion. “To homecoming? Not a chance.”
He makes a small, wounded sound I’m not sure I was meant to hear so I ignore it and wait him out. If it’s a game of patience, I’ll always win against him.
The sound of someone coming into his room breaks the silence. Brady looks up and exclaims happily, “There you are!”
“I can let you go,” I mutter. If it’s some girl he’s seeing, I’d rather not stick around. Like, live your life and all that, but I can do without seeing girls make heart eyes at my brother. Gross.
Brady shakes his head. “No, hold on a minute. Ace, come say hi to my little brother.”
Ah. The roommate. Brady has been pretty tight-lipped about him, but apparently that’s because he’s shy.
That makes two of us. He says something I can’t make out, but Brady gives him a stern look, and I hear him huff.
Their dynamics has a smile quirking at the corner of my lips.
It’s so like my brother to find another quiet, most likely awkward, person to take under his wing.
If he wasn’t calling and texting me almost obsessively, I’d worry I’d been replaced.
Brady shifts so his roommate can sit beside him, leaning against his headboard.
“Eas, this is Chase, my best friend.” Then I get handed off casually to the hottest guy I’ve ever seen like it’s not a big deal.
Dark hair, sharp jawline, eyes so clear they look like fresh spring water.
His sweet smile is perfect, barely there, but real. I think I’m in love.
“Hi,” he says.
What was his name? Crap… I was too distracted by his face. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” Then tack on because apparently I’m determined to make things weird, “Well, kinda meet you.”
He chuckles. “You too.” After a pause, he says, “I like your pink nails.”
My eyes dart to my hand, and I blush hard. I must have been messing with my hair or something. “Thanks. The girl who sits next to me in English got bored and colored them with a marker.”
That gets Brady’s attention. His head pops back up in the frame, obviously looking for what his friend was talking about so I give in and just show him. The expression on his face is something like heartbroken but he smiles. “I like them. Dad hasn’t seen them, has he?”
Like I need the reminder about how he’d react. No thanks. “No. He’s watching the game, didn’t even look up when I got home, and I’ve been up here ever since… It’s washable marker,” I add, hoping it’ll ease his concerns.
“You didn’t eat?”
Walked right into that one. “No. I’ll go heat something up after they go to bed. It’s fine, Brady. I promise.”
He chews on his lip, something he does when he starts to obsess about something, but eventually he relents. Gorgeous hands the phone back, but it sounds like he doesn’t leave. “Okay, but text me before you go to bed so I know you’re all right.”
Missing him hits me like a truck. I’m so glad he got to get out, but I hate that he left me behind to do it.
We’d never been apart until he moved to Washington, and it’s so far away.
I’d give anything to have another late night with my brother while I doodle on his walls and he gets to mother hen me up close.
“I will.”
Brady sighs, like even that little promise took a huge weight off his shoulders. “Okay. Well, I’ll let you go for now, but don’t forget to text me tonight, and I’ll call you tomorrow when my last class is over.”
“’Kay. Love you.”
He says he loves me too before we hang up, and when my phone goes dark, I clutch it to my chest and try to blink back the burning behind my eyes.
My head is spinning, both from meeting the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen and the weight of not telling Brady that things at home are falling apart without him.
It’s not like telling him would help anything except maybe making me feel a little better in the moment.
But I’ve still got four years here, so it's a marathon. If I tell Brady how Mom and Dad are getting tangled up in weird internet theories, making less and less sense by the day, he’d worry himself into an ulcer and probably drop out of school to try and get me out of here.
He can’t do that. That’s not the plan that we’ve had stored in our back pockets all these years.
Brady goes to college first, graduates, and wherever he lands a job is where I’ll apply.
That’s how we both break free and start a decent life. He planned it that way for us.
I’m not going to ruin his plans because our parents suck.
That’s just what they’d want: one or both of us falling on our asses so we have to move back home and they can dig their claws in deeper.
It’s not a big deal that Dad isn’t going to work most days and Mom stopped cooking all together.
They’re grown-ups; if they want to eat frozen meals and spend all day on their phones, it’s no one’s business but theirs.
I’m doing fine. She still makes sure there’s food here most of the time, and I know how to cook well enough to survive.
And plus, they’re still going to church twice a week, so things can’t be that bad.
I’m probably overreacting. When Brady comes home for Christmas, everything will be fine.
He’s the golden child and they won’t miss a chance to make things special for him.
And I’m sure a lot of parents go through a weird phase when their kids start moving out.
~~~
“Get some sleep, kid,” Brady mutters tiredly. I feel bad, he insisted I come paint in his room, but I think I took on a bigger project than he bargained for.
Frowning, I turn around. “I can go to my room?”
He shakes his head, eyes still closed against the light. “Nope. But come to bed already, will you?”
To make his point even further, he pats the bed beside him. It dissolves the last of my resistance. “All right,” I relent.