CRAIG
CRAIG
When I arrive home, Alex is waiting for me behind the wheel of his mum’s Civic, parked on the roadside. He springs from the car into action the instant he spots Roxy’s approach.
Clicking my fob for the gates, I cruise straight past him onto the drive. I’m barely given a chance to unfasten my seatbelt, though, before he yanks my door wide.
“Get out,” he barks. “Get the fuck out right now, bro!”
Every last vital part of me shrivels at the look on his face.
I’ve acknowledged the chance that he might react this way — obviously — but confronted by it now, I realise I never truly believed he would. “Al, please,” I don’t know what else to say.
When I don’t move fast enough, he reaches in to grab a fistful of my shirt and forcibly drags me from my seat. I’m terrified.
He’s terrifying.
“You absolute moron!” Alex is proving himself to be much more Dad’s son than I gave him credit for. “Have you any idea how badly I want to kill you right now?”
I can make a fair estimation. “Y-yes.”
Except…
Except, as I stumble out onto the unforgiving driveway and struggle to get my feet beneath me, he helps me steady.
And as I try to force some safe space between us, he pulls me in close.
Then, his arms are around me, his hand pounding my back. “Have you any fucking clue how long I’ve been waiting for you to tell me?”
I’m so confused. “What?”
My brother hasn’t ever hugged me before. Although, I’m not remotely convinced a hug is even what this is.
He still sounds so angry. He’s crushing my ribs and jolting my spine. “Only for you to go and do it by voicemail?”
“I… Is this… Are you—?”
“ Voicemail?! Like, seriously, bro, what the actual hell? As if it’s not insulting enough that I’m the last in line!”
“Back up, Al, hey,” I wheeze, pushing against his hold. “Back up! What?”
I’m finally released, and he puts a single step between us. I catch my breath, only for him to immediately slam it out of me again with a fist to my chest. Another move I didn’t see coming. Staggering into Roxy, I seize her open door to keep me upright and shield myself behind it.
“You’re drunk?” He asks in a way that’s more an accusation than a question.
I have enough of my senses intact to take offence. “I’m not. Are you?”
A snort escapes him, and from one moment to the next — in the bewildered blink of my eye — a grin I didn’t think his face capable of splits wide. “Well, at least there’s that, I suppose,” he almost laughs . “Come on then, bro, I’ll help you pack up your shit.”
Alex doesn’t wait for me before turning away, starting for the house. I’ve made zero progress on collecting myself together by the time he reaches the front door and makes a show of rapping his knuckles off it. For a heart-stopping instant, I wonder if Mum and Dad could’ve possibly beaten me back.
But, no . They were still in the Principal’s office when I left, and I’ve pretty much floored it home.
It’s with great hesitation that I straighten up from the car door and shut it. My pace is reserved as I cross the drive. “Pack up?” I ask.
“You want to be forced back in the closet again?”
“No.” That’s not going to happen.
“You want to give Dad the chance to try?”
“No.”
“You want to give him the satisfaction of kicking you out?”
I instinctively flinch as my brother moves aside to make room for me at the door. “Hardly,” I’m quick to cover. “But where exactly am I supposed to go?”
“Seriously, Craig?” He huffs, shaking his head. “Mum is making up the sofa bed in my room for you as we speak.”
My keys fall through my fingers to hit the paving bricks with a clatter. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh!”
“Kay. Why?”
Bending to retrieve the keys, Alex doesn’t hand them back. Instead, he lets himself into my house and immediately makes for the staircase without a thought of removing his shoes. “Mum’s been as eager as I have for you to finally, finally find your balls, bro,” he calls over his shoulder. “We were beginning to worry you’d fucking choose to kill yourself before it happened.”
I watch him jog up the stairs, taking them two at a time, as I kick off my Vans and step inside. “So, you’re… not… mad?”
“Nope, you better believe I’m fuming.”
Right. “But it’s not because… I’m gay?”
“The fact you feel the need to even ask that has me wanting to kill you all the more!”
I’ve barely set foot on the first stair when I hear my bedroom door crash wide against the wall. “Where’s your bag at?” My brother shouts. I stop and take a deep breath. And another.
And on the third exhale, my tortured insides burst into a revitalised full-bloom. “Under the bed,” I yell as I switchgear to launch up after him at top speed.
I almost trip twice over my own feet. “Lorraine’s really okay with this?”
Alex hasn’t wasted any time. My carryall is open on top of the bed, and I enter the room to find him busily delving through my drawers, pulling out socks, tees, and boxers at random. “If you’re going to insist on asking dumb-ass questions, bro, I will hit you again.” He doesn’t look up.
“Roger that.”
We work fast, cramming pretty much whatever our hands get hold of into the big, black bag. I don’t even consider packing any of my college books, and Alex seems to instinctively know to leave them untouched. He wants a complete run-through of my day as we upend my room. I give it to him, sparing no detail because it’s been too long since we last properly spoke — far longer than these two-stonewalled-weeks — and it’s such an almighty weight lifted to have him back on side. I don’t think he’s ever before been quite so invested in my every word.
“You really did have me scared, you know?” He says. My tale has reached its end, and we’ve spent the last few minutes in active silence. “You let things get so bad, and you wouldn’t talk to me. I felt like you were becoming this whole other person — a stranger I didn’t recognise and didn’t want to know.”
The raw emotion in his voice is brutal. “Yeah.” I continue to pummel my jeans into the bulging bag. “I know.”
“I thought I’d be the first you told.”
“You almost were. A few times. But…”
“But?”
“Honestly, Al, you are who I most dreaded.”
There’s no need to lift my head to register just how poorly that’s received. His movement behind me instantly ceases. “Gee. Nice.”
“You’ve despised Tate ever since Tinwell ratted us out,” I try to explain myself.
“No, I’ve despised that prick ever since you blamed him as the one responsible for fucking you over,” he counters.
“You never bring it up. Like, if—”
“It’s not my place to bring up a topic that you refuse to ever talk about!”
Giving up on the jeans, I toss them across the bed and turn my attention to the bag’s zipper. “I wanted to.” My fingers are not cooperating. “So bad. Just—”
“This is trespassing.” Mum’s interruption hits me like headlights on a deer. “Do I need to call the police?”
I’m slow to turn around. I don’t hear Alex shifting either.
I should’ve heard the front door, but I wasn’t listening for it. We’ve lingered too long. And now we’ve been caught completely unprepared.
“He’s here as my guest, Mum. I invited him in.”
She’s standing just beyond the doorway, still wearing her coat, mascara smudged around her eyes and arms wrapped protectively around herself. “I meant the both of you.”
“It’s my ro—”
“Not anymore, it’s not,” she snipes, flicking her gaze to the haphazardly stuffed duffel. “Clearly.”
“Mum,” I work to soften my tone in appeal. “Please, don’t. I didn’t mean for this all to come out how it did, but don’t—”
“ Come out?! ” Her words bite, razor sharp and ridiculing. “Yes, Craig.” She flaps me off like something disgusting. “I should absolutely let you excuse yourself from that again!”
My mouth still hangs open, but my throat develops a lump. I can no longer tell if my handling of this whole situation thus far has actually been as courageous as it first felt. A blurted unleashing in the heat of the moment, without any thought for feelings or consequences; truthfully, it’s beginning to feel pretty cowardly now.
Even so, I do not intend to make any excuses for myself, just as Mum has no intention of hearing a single word I might say. I’ve learned better than to plead a lost cause. And it wouldn’t matter anyway because the distinctive sound of Dad’s approach has my whole body tensing.
“Come on, bro.” Alex gets moving. “Time we split.” Snatching up the bag, still unfastened, he grabs my arm and tugs.
But avoiding Dad is impossible at this point unless we’re prepared to exit through my window.
“You’re going nowhere, boy.” He appears at Mum’s shoulder. Every last trace of the restraint he displayed at college is gone, his eyes dangerous as he levels them on me. “Say goodbye to your brother.”
I swallow thickly, and my brother blinks at me like he thinks there’s a chance that I actually might.
Dad takes two intimidating steps forward when it becomes obvious I won’t. “Craig, I swear to God!”
“Where is Christopher?” I ask instead, holding my ground.
“Never you damn well mind where Christopher is,” he blocks the door. “The kid’s asleep, and he best not be disturbed!”
“I will say goodbye to him, and then I will leave.” It would not be beneficial to let the crack in my heart betray me. “I will not be coming back.”
Alex’s grip on my arm tightens as Dad crosses the threshold into my room, closing the distance between us.
“You don’t stand a hope in hell of leaving, my son. Not without—”
“Don’t bother, Philip,” Mum slices through his budding tirade, cutting him short like only she can. He spins around on her, unmoved from the doorway, and she shakes her head. She’s seemingly done with looking at me. “Let him go.”
“Samantha—”
I don’t fail to take advantage of the opening. Alex catches on at the exact same moment. He doesn’t let go of me, and together, we make a break for it. Dad’s attention snaps back to us a split-second after we’ve dodged past him.
“Absolutely not!” He makes a grab for the bag, and he almost gets it until Mum steps aside to free our path.
“Just let him go,” she repeats, her tone hard. “He said everything he needed to in that office.”
There’s not a beat of indecision. Alex releases my arm and falls in behind me. I don’t listen out for Dad’s reaction before we hit the stairs and barrel down them, losing a sweater and a few socks in our haste.
Christopher’s car seat is in the entrance hall, on the floor beneath the coat pegs. And it’s only when I realise that Christopher is in it, deep in the land of nod, that I ease my stride.
“Bro,” Alex warns in a whisper, flicking a glance behind him.
We’re not being chased yet, but the rising volume of Dad’s voice keeps us both on edge. Not even Mum can change his mind once it’s set. And that I’ve angered him all the more bodes ill for my odds at a clean escape should he catch up.
“One second, Al. Please?” I creep forward, closer.
My baby brother appears wholly untroubled, his perfect face twitching as he dreams of who-knows-what. It feels like I already miss him, even as I’m crouching by his side.
Blinking against the burn in my eyes, I lean in and press a soft kiss on his forehead. “I’ll come to see you just as soon as I can, Chrissy, okay?”
Alex drops down to his haunches next to me and brushes a finger over Christopher’s hand. “It’s only temporary, Craig,” he says. “They can’t keep him from you forever.”
“Yeah,” I nod. Except, I doubt he believes that any more than I do.