Chapter 37 Jessiah
“Do you want any more, Eli?” Trish asked my brother, indicating the oven dish in the middle of the table.
It was lasagna, Adam’s favorite. We had it every year.
I’d made it at home and brought it with me, like always.
And, like every year, I’d suggested we eat at the loft, since it had been Adam’s apartment, but my mother had refused again—she didn’t want to commemorate my brother somewhere she had never approved of.
So we sat in her penthouse dining room in the Fortress of Solitude, and the name had never been more fitting.
“No.” Eli shook his head. Normally, when I cooked, there was no holding him back—and at the rate he was growing, he needed it.
But nobody had any appetite today. We pushed our food around our plates, avoiding eye contact.
I asked myself why we even did this anymore; it always followed the same pattern: no one ate much, no one talked, and afterward Trish and I usually got in a fight.
We were thinner-skinned than usual today, less able to keep our emotions in check.
I waved her offer aside as well and stole a glance at my phone to check the time. It was a reflex action; I did it all the time. But of course it didn’t escape Trish’s notice.
“Do you have somewhere else to be?” she asked pointedly, though what she actually meant was: Is there something more important to you than the dinner in memory of your dead brother?
“No, of course not,” I said in response to both.
I just want to know how much longer I have to endure this before I can get out of here.
I felt bad thinking it, especially for Eli’s sake; he looked utterly lost on his side of the enormous table.
But all the same, the silence was unbearable.
If we had at least talked about Adam, remembered him…
but that never happened. Comparisons with me were as good as it got, and I always came off worse.
It didn’t upset me anymore these days, because it was the truth.
Of the two of us, Adam had been the better son, the better brother, the better person.
He didn’t need to run from his own life in order to be happy.
He never took risks in order to feel alive.
And still, he was dead.
I reached for the water jug to top off my glass, and in doing so, the arm of my sweater rode up slightly, revealing the bandage beneath it.
“What’s that?” my mother asked at once. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“Just a scratch.” I pulled my sleeve down again. “Happened when I was surfing.”
Trish’s face hardened into that impenetrable mask. “Must you really continue doing that sport? There are other, less dangerous ways to exercise.”
“I’ve been surfing for more than ten years,” I informed her. “It would be more dangerous to start playing golf or squash and get hit by the ball.”
“I want to learn to surf this summer, finally.” Eli looked to me. “You said you’d teach me last year.”
Our mother—his mother, in that moment, really—made a defensive noise. “That’s absolutely out of the question, Eli. We’ve spoken about this enough times. I will not let you do such a risky sport.”
“It’s not risky if you know what you’re doing,” I chimed in.
“And you know what you’re doing, do you?” The usual arrogance flared in Trish’s eyes.
“Yes, I do,” I replied firmly. “And you know that I’d never put Eli in danger.”
“We’re not going to talk about this—not today of all days,” said Trish, putting paid to the subject, and we went back to pushing lasagna around our plates in silence until her phone rang.
She stood and went into the living room, where she’d left it on the designer coffee table.
I didn’t know who was on the other end, but it seemed to be a business call.
“Can I call you back tomorrow morning? Yes, I’ll confirm the contracts are being drafted. Thank you.”
She hung up and returned to the table, and alongside the grief, there was a quiet triumph in her eyes.
“What contracts?” I asked. I wasn’t interested in what was going on at the firm, but anything was better than tense silence.
“The deal on the Winchester plot is just about done and dusted.” She helped herself to some more wine. “The contracts will be finalized shortly, and then the Westons will be as good as done in this city.”
I looked up, ignoring the stab in my gut at the mention of the name. “What do you mean by that?”
“You don’t know?” She looked amazed. “This project was their last opportunity to get back in the game. They invested an enormous amount of money in an old renovation project on the Upper West Side last year, only to discover that the fabric of the building was irreparably damaged. Now they’ve bet everything on Winchester, but the owners are more aligned with my vision for the plot’s future development. ”
“So the Westons are ruined?” I’d never imagined that I could feel so horrible about the idea.
My mother gave me a curious look, and I tried to appear as indifferent as possible, so as not to betray myself.
“We’ll see. But I’ll do everything to have them struck off the list of New York City VIPs. If they’d had their daughter under control…”
“What?” It was foolish to argue with her, I knew, but I shook my head. “There’s no point in blaming Valerie. They’re both dead. And nobody knows exactly what happened.”
“She bewitched him,” Trish hissed bitterly. “You know it, and yet you still talk as if wasn’t plain as day. Today of all days—really? Do you have absolutely no respect for your brother?”
“Of course I do. I just meant—”
“What? That Adam was the one who persuaded Valerie to take cocaine? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“No.” I tried again. “But maybe the circumstances were different from what we think. Maybe neither of them is responsible for what happened.”
“You’re defending that woman?” Trish’s voice was unusually shrill, and I knew we were on the precipice of the same argument that reared its head every year. “Why? So you’re off the hook?”
I was well aware of the logic behind the accusation, even if it lingered unspoken between us most of the time.
In my mother’s eyes, Valerie was to blame over all others for the fact that Adam was dead.
But next in the firing line was me, because I hadn’t come home to talk Adam out of the relationship.
“Right. Because I’d have been able to stop them being together,” I said bitterly under my breath.
I’d beaten myself up about it for a long time.
But ever since I’d met Helena and learned that the connection between my brother and her sister had been more than some reckless infatuation, I thought differently.
Maybe out of self-preservation, like Trish said.
But maybe it was also the truth. “What exactly makes you believe that? Do you really think Adam was so stupid he would have blundered into a relationship, into a marriage, just because Valerie had a pretty face?”
My mother reached for her glass. “You didn’t see what he was like. Ask Eli how Adam changed suddenly when he met her.”
“Leave Eli out of it,” I demanded before my little brother could reply. But he did anyway.
“He was happy,” said Eli quietly, squaring his shoulders as if bracing himself for the reaction that was bound to follow. “Adam was happy with Valerie.”
“That’s enough,” my mother chided him.
“But it’s true!” Eli exclaimed. “Adam was always so serious; he always took care of everyone. I used to stay over at his place all the time, and every time I woke up in the night, he would be sitting at his desk working. I asked him why, and he said he couldn’t sleep because there was too much going on in his head.
It only got better when he met Valerie.”
“I told you to hold your tongue!” my mother yelled at him, slamming her hand on the table. Eli flinched, then got up and fled to his room.
“Without a doubt, you really are Mom of the Year,” I snapped, rising from my seat to go after my brother. “You must be the only person who’s ever claimed the title twenty-five years in a row.”
She didn’t reply.
I left her alone and made my way to Eli’s room. The door was closed. I knocked, but there was no response.
“It’s me,” I said, and heard a muffled reply, so I went in cautiously. Eli was lying on the bed with his back turned. I sat on the edge of the mattress and went to put my hand on his arm, but he shrugged it away.
“Leave me alone,” he said, burying his head in his pillow. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Okay. But I want to say goodbye before I go, at least.”
With a sudden movement, Eli turned to face me, glaring at me, his eyes shining. “That’s what you’re doing, is it?”
At first I didn’t understand what he was saying. “What do you mean?”
“You’re going.” He wiped away his tears. “Just like last time. You’d leave here tomorrow if you could. If Adam was still alive to look out for me, you wouldn’t even be here. Right?”
My throat tightened at his words. I swallowed and ducked the question. “Did Trish say that?”
“Does it matter? The only thing that matters is if it’s true.” His voice was shaky, but still more determined than I’d ever heard him. “Is it, Jess? Are you only here because you think you have to take care of me for him? Yes or no?”
What could I say? If I said yes, I was putting the burden of my unhappiness about having to live in New York on his shoulders.
If I said no, I would be lying to him. And I’d sworn never to do that.
Because I was supposed to be the one person in his life who told him the truth.
Adam and I had promised him that years ago, and we had always stuck to it.
And now it was only me who was there to keep that promise.
But what price would he have to pay for it?
I took a deep breath and made my decision. “No,” I said, ignoring how much it hurt. “It’s not true.”
As soon as I said it, I knew it had been a mistake. Eli looked me in the eye and knew it wasn’t the truth. I had always been a bad liar, and he was a fucking good lie detector. How could I have forgotten?
Because you wanted to protect him.
“You can go, you know,” he said in a choked voice. “You don’t have to stay on my account. I don’t need you here.”
“Eli—” I began, but he interrupted.
“Get lost!”
He screamed those two words at me, turning his back again, and I respected his wishes, even if I didn’t want to. I got up and went to the door.
“I’m always here for you,” I told him. “Always, little guy.”
There was no reply. With a heavy heart, I closed the door behind me, then stood in front of it for a moment with my eyes closed.
I knew this was a shitty day for everyone, and Eli missed Adam horribly, just like I did.
The fact that he’d stood up for Adam today was proof of just how important he had been to Eli. And all I could do was lie to him.
Big Brother of the Year. Without a doubt.
I let out a quiet sigh and went in search of my mother. I found her in her study with a drink on her desk; she sat at the window looking out onto the city. The light was out, and I could almost feel the physical weight of her grief. Perhaps it was also my own.
“I’ll take off, then,” I said into the darkness.
“Sure,” she said, her voice laced with whiskey. “You always were good at that.”
I gave a snort. “Yeah, apparently that’s all anyone has to say about me.”
“You made your own bed there,” she retorted. “You’re the one who left everyone high and dry.”
I knew it was the alcohol talking, and her heartache, but nevertheless, I couldn’t control myself. Because that was how it was between us. How it had always been.
“Like you didn’t throw a party when I left,” I said bitterly. “You never wanted me under your roof in the first place.”
She turned to me, the light from the hall falling dimly across her face. “That’s not true. You’re my son, Jessiah.”
“Yeah, but not the one you wanted,” I replied. “I never was, and we both know it. If you could have chosen between me and Adam, he’d still be alive, and I’d be in the ground. Don’t think I don’t know it.”
She stared at me, incensed, but didn’t argue, and it was confirmation enough. I knew it was true. I’d always known.
I turned to go, leaving the apartment in a hurry, and as I entered the elevator I felt so leaden and heavy, as if I had the weight of the whole world on my shoulders.
A terrible sorrow twisted in my gut, sending tears to the back of my throat, but I kept them in check.
It was true, after all—I had left, and I hadn’t looked back.
I’d run away, believing I would never be happy otherwise.
I’d assumed they would be fine without me.
That no one needed me. And most of all, that I didn’t need anyone.
How horribly wrong I’d been. I knew it the moment I stepped out onto the sidewalk, and all the pain of losing Adam hit me so hard I couldn’t breathe.
All I wanted in that moment was someone to talk to about how it felt.
How unbearable it was that he wasn’t here anymore.
What it meant to lose your brother like that, and have to ask yourself every single fucking day whether you could have prevented it.
But I had no one to talk to. I was alone.
In a city of more than eight million people, I was totally alone.