Milàn #3
“You didn’t hold any of it against me. It’s not Rory’s fault we share the same shitty parent.”
“I’m not fucking blaming him, am I? It’s Gerard. He is who he is. Or was who he was. Whatever. I’m just saying, you and me? We aren’t equipped to handle this crap. We don’t have to handle this crap. He’s dead. Let it go and stop paying penance, or whatever it is you’re doing.”
“Then who will take care of him? CPS? Foster care? You really want to make Rory feel like nobody wants him? Shit, Milàn, you of all people know how much that screws a person up!”
“Another reason why we shouldn’t subject that kid to the mess the two of us are. He deserves better.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you have his best interests in mind,” Aiden shoots back.
“Somebody has to. You clearly don’t.”
“You know, you can be a real dick sometimes.”
I laugh out loud. “Is this fucking news to you or something?”
“Yes, it actually is,” Aiden snaps. “We can’t send him away to fuck knows where.”
I drag both my hands through my hair and let out a string of curses. “Why do you care? We don’t even know the kid! He’s a stranger.”
“Well, fuck him, in that case, huh?”
The last shred of patience snaps at the stubborn stupidity. “Fuck you!”
“I was a stranger. You still didn’t send me away when I looked you up.”
“The fuck do you expect me to do here?”
“I expect you not to be a coward!”
“Oh! Well, I’ve seen the light. Let’s go and tell everyone the good news!”
He’s in my face, breathing harshly, this time actually looking like he really does want to punch me. But then he takes a deep breath and backs away from me.
“You’ll change your mind,” he says, and the steady confidence he says it with pisses me off to no end. Aiden’s always been the calm to my storm. Not right now, though.
“Don’t hold your breath.”
“In the end, you’ll do the right thing,” he continues. I don’t know if he’s trying to convince me or himself.
“Fuck. Off,” I grit through my teeth.
“Because you’re a good man,” he says stubbornly.
Fuck it. I’m gonna deck him.
He quirks his brow in challenge.
I charge.
Aiden goes down with an “Oof,” and I land on top of him, but before I can get a decent hit in, he hooks his leg behind mine, uses his own body as leverage, and pushes me enough that he manages to roll me off him.
I land on my back, and Aiden throws me a look before he gets up.
Before he can step away, I throw my foot out and sweep his legs from under him. He goes back down.
The veneer of calm cracks. He’s on me a moment later, and we’re grappling on the ground.
We’re both breathing harshly, neither willing to be reasonable.
It takes a lot of effort to get Aiden to lose his cool, but his hands have curled into fists, and his breathing has turned into grunts, nostrils flaring, eyes lit with angry sparks.
My ears are buzzing, and I’m in that nice space where I’m not thinking anymore, just doing. Fuck consequences and fuck my thoughts.
That all comes to a halt a second later when Aiden elbows me in the face and a fountain of blood spurts out of my nose.
Aiden rolls himself off me.
I squeeze my nostrils shut between my thumb and forefinger and make a face when I push myself to a sitting position.
I look down at myself and then at Aiden. “I don’t have a spare set of clothes. Dick.”
Aiden wipes his palms on his pants. He pats at his hair and adjusts the collar of his sweater, looking annoyed and embarrassed in equal measure. “Yes, well, it’s not like I enjoy having your blood on me. I’ll have you know this is cashmere.”
Every time he gets annoyed, he starts to sound increasingly pompous.
“Is that like polyester but more expensive?” I ask, just because I know it’ll annoy Aiden. Ignorance usually does.
Aiden throws me a disgusted look. “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” he mutters, still messing with his precious sweater.
“Isn’t cashmere wool? Because last time I checked there were plenty of sheep left in the world.”
“It’s goat—” Aiden starts, but then he snaps his mouth shut and continues dusting himself off.
“I’ll buy you a new sweater.”
Aiden’s shoulders remain stiff for another moment before he relaxes them and gives a brief nod.
“Come on,” he says, and we trudge back into the house.
Aiden goes to his suitcase and throws me a pair of slacks and another sweater.
We both take turns getting changed in the downstairs bathroom before we settle in at the table. Aiden slides a glass of bourbon in front of me. The expensive kind from Gerard’s wine cellar. I take the glass. Fuck it. Don’t mind if I do.
“Where’s the kid?” I ask when I look around and don’t see him anywhere.
“Francesca took him to town to get a burger,” Aiden says.
“Okay, well, let’s take off and she can have him.” I’m only half joking. “Where’s his mother? Who’s his mother?”
“Dead. He’s been living here for the last six months.”
“Fantastic. Any other relatives?”
“An uncle,” Aiden says. He grabs a cup of coffee and splashes some bourbon into it before he takes a seat again.
“The guy’s a deadbeat. Been skipping in and out of jail his whole life.
Currently lives in a trailer park in Reno.
Rory was with him for a while before somebody found Gerard.
” He pours more bourbon into his cup, takes another sip, and makes a face.
“Gerard’s lawyer insisted on a DNA test. The kid’s definitely his. ”
The two of us look at each other in silence.
“So we’re fucked,” I finally say.
Aiden doesn’t say anything.
“What the hell are the two of us going to do with him?” I ask.
“Well, he’s thirteen, so I’m thinking we’ll feed him, clothe him. Make sure he goes to school.”
“Limit his screen time and tell him not to do drugs?” I suggest dryly. I lean my elbows on the table and rub my thumb and forefinger over my eyes. “Be one happy, fucked-up family?”
Aiden thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. “Pretty much.”
“Jesus Christ. You’re insane.” I push my chair back and start to get up.
“He’s our brother,” Aiden says quietly.
I freeze, half up, half still sitting.
I stay like that for a long time.
Then I sink back down into my seat.
I can’t do it.
But I also can’t not do it.
He looks at me, and I feel like I’ve been put on the spot. The errant brother. The difficult one who always causes trouble and can’t seem to agree on anything out of spite.
I look away first.
I can’t do it.
But I can’t not do it.
I square my shoulders and lift my chin.
“What’s the plan?”
There is a plan. I know Aiden. There’s always a plan.
“Well,” he says slowly. His eyes remain on me, which does not bode well for me. “I have one year left of my fellowship. I can’t take a hiatus, and the days are… challenging.”
“Well, you know, it’s always a great idea to bring a kid into the mix when you’re too busy to take a shit,” I say dryly.
“You’re not,” Aiden says with a calmness that would set my teeth on edge under any other circumstances.
Not today.
I knew this was where we were headed, so I’m not pissed off anymore. I’m resigned.
I already know it’s happening. It’s one against one, but that first one has more determination than I could ever have. Besides, he’s right. I’m a fuckup with nothing on my plate other than time.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I breathe in deeply, hold it for a second, then exhale.
“A year. I’ll stay for a year.” I nod at Aiden. “You’ll finish your fellowship. Then he’s all yours.”
I cross my arms over my chest and wait. It seems like there needs to be more of a decision-making process. More weighing of pros and cons.
“Deal,” Aiden says.
I nod.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into?