Chapter 4
FOUR
NEVAEH
It’s Friday night, and I'm standing outside my brother’s door. Since I only have a few days left of spring break, I decided to pay him a visit. Stephen swings the door open and smiles wide when he sees me. “Hey, sis!”
I flash him a quick smile back, happy to finally hang out with him since I haven’t seen him in a couple weeks.
He was supposed to meet us for my birthday but ended up bailing at the last minute.
Now that I’m thinking about it, I’m glad he didn’t show up because the kiss with Ethan most likely wouldn’t have happened if he were there.
And I’ll never forget that kiss. Or that man.
“Get in here.” He swings the door open wider, stepping aside so I can pass through. As he’s shutting the door, his phone rings. When he looks down at it, a frown replaces the smile he was just sporting a moment ago.
“Give me a second.” He puts a finger up before he answers the phone, walking into the other room. He’s gone for a few minutes before I hear his voice getting closer once again. “Okay, I have to go. I'll call you later.”
He ends the call, gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, then plops onto the couch, only to get right back up when the doorbell rings.
“Did you order Chinese?”
He flashes me a crooked smile as he heads to the front door. “Of course. I feel terrible for missing your birthday. It only makes sense to order your favorite.”
He opens the door and pays the delivery kid before coming back into the living room and setting our food onto the coffee table.
Reaching into the takeout bag, I smell the delicious aroma of Wonton soup and sesame chicken. “No worries, big bro. As long as you feed me this yummy food and watch The O.C. like you promised, you’re forgiven.”
“Fuck. I hate that show, but I'll suffer for you.” Watching television series’ such as One Tree Hill and The O.C. are one of my guilty pleasures. Blaire got me hooked on them, and I’ve watched the reruns at least a half-dozen times.
“So, how was your birthday night out?” he asks, handing me a couple of containers.
“It was good. We ended up going to some crazy popular club… The Warehouse,” I say as I fork some rice and chicken onto my plate.
Stephen drops his fork and it clatters against his plate. “I thought you were going to Wine and Vine?”
“I thought we were too, but Blaire wanted to take me to my first club.” I shrug nonchalantly. “We had a good time.”
“That place is not somewhere you should be frequenting,” he says in a tone I’ve never heard from him before.
“It’s just a club,” I say, confused as to why he’s acting like I just committed the worst sin, when I know for a fact Stephen’s been to way worse places than The Warehouse.
“No, it’s not.” His eyes lock with mine. “The owner of that club is not a good guy. Illegal shit goes down there.” His jaw ticks in anger. “Promise me you won’t go back there again.”
“Okay,” I agree. “It was just for my birthday.” He knows I don’t go out often.
It’s not like I’m going to suddenly make it my new hangout.
Although, I had considered going back to see if I could run into Ethan again.
He’d mentioned he had to get back to work, and it made me wonder if maybe he works at the club.
Although, he seemed a bit too dressed up to be bartending. Maybe he’s one of the bouncers…
“I know,” Stephen says. “But The Warehouse isn’t a club you should be hanging out in, even if it’s just for your birthday. I never would’ve let you go there on your own.” He pulls me into a side hug and kisses my temple. “I’m your big brother and it’s my job to make sure you’re safe.”
Stephen turns the television on, ending the conversation, and clicks on one of my favorite episodes as we start to eat.
We sit in silence watching the show and I notice that not once does he complain or make fun of the characters like he usually does.
No sarcastic comments about Seth’s unhealthy obsession with Summer.
No poking fun at the way Ryan is once again bailing Marissa out of a sticky situation.
He doesn’t tell me about his latest girlfriend or even ask me about Blaire—and he always asks me about her.
I think he secretly likes her, but for whatever reason won’t admit to it.
He takes a large sip of his drink and I notice it’s water instead of his usual beer. Something is wrong.
“Everything okay?” I ask, taking a sip of my root beer. It’s my favorite soft drink and Stephen always keeps them on hand for when I come over.
The corners of his lips hesitantly turn up into a fake smile, telling me he’s about to lie to me. I know the look because I’ve watched him give it every time he’s lied to our parents over the years. He nods, now chewing a mouthful of chicken fried rice.
“You sure?” I push him.
Once he swallows his food, he says, “Yes, Nevaeh, I’m fine.”
Nevaeh.
He never calls me by my name. He usually calls me Brat when he’s annoyed with me, knowing it drives me nuts, or Sis when he’s happy with me, but never Nevaeh. Something is definitely going on…
Before I can push the subject, though, he launches into what’s been going on with him at work. He’s an Atlantic City police officer, and while his job is exhausting, he’s always made sure to find time for me. That is until recently.
We move from the topic of his job to mine, and I tell him about some of the funny things my students have done. He laughs in all the right places, but behind his fake smile, I can see something is seriously wrong.
He asks me how my birthday was and I tell him about me and Blaire going dancing, about the martini I tried and enjoyed—leaving out the part where I got a birthday kiss from Ethan.
His expression shows brotherly love and protectiveness as he reminds me to never drink and drive.
I’m lucky to have an older brother like Stephen.
He’s protective and kind, and he’s one of my best friends.
I continue to make conversation, but I can’t even tell you what either of us are talking about. My mind is now stuck on Stephen and what he’s hiding from me. For him to act like this, it must be something big.
He sets his empty container down, while I still have half of mine left, and reaches for the remote, pausing the show. “I love you. You know that, right?”
His serious tone makes me tense up. “Yes, I know that, and I love you too.”
“I'll never forget how you stood by my side no matter how much I fucked up. When I chose to move out, you didn’t disown me like our mom did. You're a good fucking woman and an even better sister.”
“Where is this coming from?” I ask, suddenly nervous. Stephen has never been one to show emotion or talk about how he feels, no matter how much I've tried.
“It just needed to be said, Nevaeh.” And there it is. My name. Again.
Stephen pulls me into a hug and then backs away, looking me dead in my eyes. “I know you love Mom, but promise me something, okay?”
“What?”
“Promise me you’ll stop living your life for her and start living it to the fullest. You can still believe in God and enjoy your life.
Mom is far from perfect, and she’s only sheltering you to prevent you from enjoying your life because she’s afraid you’ll make the same mistakes she made.
There’s a lot you don’t know. I know you give in to her because I didn’t, but I don’t want you doing that anymore. Promise me you’ll try.”
My head is spinning. “What do you mean, there’s a lot I don’t know?”
“It’s not my place to say.”
“No!” I shake my head, starting to freak out. “Tell me. You can’t say something like that and not tell me.”
Stephen sighs, and for a brief moment doesn’t say anything. Then, he finally speaks and the words that come out next are shocking enough to shake my entire world. “I’m not Dad’s biological son. When mom got pregnant with me, it was a one-night stand, and she didn’t know who the guy was.”
I gasp in shock. “Oh my God,” I whisper, bringing my hands up to my mouth. “Does Dad know?”
“I don’t think so. I found a diary in the things Grandma dropped off before Mom could throw it all away.
One of her last entries was that she was pregnant and didn’t know who the father was, and that she was being sent away, so she wouldn’t disgrace her family name.
She must’ve met Dad and made it look like I was his son. ”
“Wow,” I breathe. “And all these years she’s been preaching abstinence like she’s perfect. I can’t believe she would do that to Dad and you.” I can’t hide the disappointment and disgust I feel toward my mom. How dare she!
“We both know Mom would never tell us anything she’s done that doesn’t make her look perfect. But now you know she’s not, and every time she’s judging you, you now know she has no right.”
I can’t believe all these years she would lie. She and my dad were married young, and Stephen was born shortly after. They told us he was conceived during their honeymoon after they were married. Did Mom lie to Dad? Somehow change her due date? None of this makes any sense.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because I didn’t want to hurt you or Dad. If he found out I’m not his son, it’d kill him. I didn’t want to destroy our family more than I already have. Did you know he comes by here every week, behind her back, to see me?”
“No,” I murmur. “I had assumed they both stopped talking to you.” Dad always goes along with whatever Mom wants.
“No, just Mom. I can’t even imagine how pissed she would be if she knew Dad still talked to me.”