9. Brinn
Chapter 9
Brinn
“Brinn. I know you’re home, or we wouldn’t be doing this.” Isaac’s voice is light and full of laughter from my front porch.
Obviously, Isaac. But if I stay in my house, we don’t have to do this.
“We don’t have to start today if you’re not ready.” His voice comes again through my door.
My hands wring with indecision as I sigh.
I’m regretting saying yes to him, as well as telling him everything. It came pouring out of me like a burst dam, and I couldn’t stop it or take it back. But he was so patient and kind. He and Pork Belly were so warm against me, even as the words and memories had chilled me to the bone.
I realized as I was making us tea that he was the first thing to make me feel safe in a long, long time. That’s worth something, right? Sure, it was incredibly embarrassing that I had another panic attack in front of him, but it was slightly less embarrassing this time.
What’s still embarrassing is me pretending I’m not home because I am afraid to go around the block with him. I told him I needed a week to recover. That week is up, and I am standing in the front hall of the house I can’t leave, wringing my hands while he and PB stand on my porch like patient saints.
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he says.
That makes me move. I haven’t seen him since he went home that night. I couldn’t make myself get out of bed the next day or the day after that. Even after I got up, I kept the curtains closed and only went into my backyard when I knew he wasn’t home. I’ve texted him daily to see how he and his sister are doing, but facing him seems so much harder. I can’t do it. But....
“No, I’m coming,” I say as I open the door wide in panic, the thought of him leaving suddenly scarier than the thought of opening the door.
His expression is luminous, and Pork Belly’s tail wags furiously from where she’s sitting next to him. “Hey there.” His eyes give me a quick once over; there’s something in them I can’t quite make out. I watch his lips twitch into a frown before he smooths it into a half-smile again. “Need to grab your shoes?” he asks.
I realize I am still in my pajamas and slippers. They’re not even nice pajamas. I’m pretty sure these pants have a hole in the butt. Oh, god.
“Yep!” I squeak. “One sec!” I slam the door again before running upstairs and changing into something that will not get me arrested for indecency, then slip on my sneakers before I can change my mind.
“Okay, ready!” I say, flinging the door open, stepping outside, and closing it behind me, ready to move on from another embarrassing moment before I just die from the weight of them piling up. I walk right out of my door and straight into Isaac. Again. He grunts from the impact as he rocks back for a second.
It’s a good thing that I’m not claustrophobic because there’s not more than a breath of space between us. In his attempt to steady himself, his warm, strong hand wrapped around my arm.
We both stare at each other in surprise, his warm brown irises thinning against the widening of his pupils. The air out here is warm, but flames lick at my skin from every point of contact. I open my mouth to speak, and his eyes fall to it before he quickly releases my arm and steps back.
“I’m sorry,” I groan, a shiver coursing through me as the heat from his touch dissipates.
“It’s okay,” he says as I watch him force his features into a smooth expression.
Great, he’s regretting this already.
Pork Belly wiggles up next to me, excitedly licking my hand. “Hey, girl.” I give her a couple of good ear scratches before Isaac hands me her leash. “You want me to walk her?”
“If you want to,” he shrugs, looking less tense.
I take it. Holding her leash is like a tether to safety, even as I look past her to the street. The sidewalk looks like it’s a hundred miles away.
“Ready?” Isaac asks. I take a deep breath but agree. “We’ll go as slow as you want. We can stop and turn around whenever you need,” his smooth, gentle voice reminds me as I stare down the daunting path that bisects my front lawn. “If you need to close your eyes, PB and I will keep you safe. Okay?”
I try to respond, but I can’t stop looking at the path, which seems to grow longer by the second. “Brinn,” he says, and his voice is closer. He must be standing next to me. “I need you to talk to me, okay?” The back of his knuckles gently brush my hand.
“Yes. Okay, yeah. Okay,” I stumble out. “Okay.” I stop looking at the street and look at Pork Belly. “Ready to go, girl?” Her tail wags excitedly as she starts down the stairs.
We make it to the street before the panic sets in. “Stop!” Pork Belly and Isaac both stop instantly.
“What do you need?” Isaac asks patiently.
“I don’t—I just need a second.”
Isaac waits for me as Pork Belly sniffs at a dandelion that’s pushed its golden mane through a crack in the sidewalk. This flower, despite its environment, refuses to fail in its goal to grow. Maybe I can learn something from it.
“Okay,” I say before letting my feet shuffle on.
We go slow and steady. Pork Belly sniffs and explores as we make our way down the first block, then another one. By the time we turn towards the meadow, I’m doing pretty good.
The wind shifts, and the smell of the sea assaults me. “STOP!” I gag. The panic is rising in me, and I can’t stop it. My eyes shutter against the blinding sun. “I can’t—”
“It’s okay.” Isaac’s soft voice envelops me at the same time his muscular arms do. “Take a deep breath,” he says. Pork Belly’s soft body presses against my leg as Isaac pulls me to his chest. “You’re safe,” he says. Isaac’s soothing scent replaces the stinging, salty air. Fresh pine, warm sun, and earthy clay. Hot tears fall from my eyes and mar his shirt.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I blubber.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Brinn. We made it so far.” His deep voice rumbles against my skin and settles into my bones. “I should have asked before I touched you. Is this okay?”
Panic rises in my chest again. If he pulls away, I am going to shatter into dust. I am going to be swallowed by the sea. I am going to die on this sidewalk. “Please don’t let go,” I cry against him pathetically.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you, Brinn.”
Pork Belly’s body against my legs reminds me that the sidewalk isn’t dissolving under me. Isaac’s steady heartbeat is a mollifying metronome in my ears. The tightness in my chest dissipates as my breathing evens out under the safety of his comfort. Is it wrong of me to stay like this forever? Where it is safe, and warm, and soft.
“I think I’m okay now,” I say from the cocoon of his arms. He gives me a brief squeeze before letting his arms fall away. Pork Belly stays pressed against my legs, and when I glance at her, she gives me a big doggy grin.
“Let’s go home,” Isaac says. When I hesitate, he holds out his hand. I stare at his scar-flecked skin for a moment, cataloging the shapes of the faded wounds. Small slices here, round marks from errant sparks there. Some scars even cut into the tattoos on his arm, though some are old enough to be covered by the forest-themed ink. When I place my hand in his, the scars dance with movement as his fingers close around mine.
I keep my eyes glued to the sidewalk as we make our way home. I greet the dandelion at the precipice of my walkway.
I don’t let go of Isaac’s hand until we’re at my front door.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get very far,” I apologize as I stare at the tear stains on his shirt.
“We got two entire blocks,” he says triumphantly. “That’s pretty far in a town this size if you ask me.”
His smile almost convinces me.
Isaac looks worn out. It is not a look I am used to seeing on the man, usually so full of life. His hair is mussed like he’s been running his hands through it unconsciously. A deep frown is etched into his face.
After we talked about all of my sad bullshit, he’d told me about his sister and why he had to go to New York. I felt terrible that my personal crisis required his comfort when he was clearly distressed as well. I listened to him talk about the trip and his sister’s condition—she wasn’t doing great, but there was nothing more he could do there. He assured me he was doing alright and has every day since.
But as he sits on his front steps waiting for me, I can tell those worries are weighing on him more than he has been letting on.
“I can take Miss Belly on my own; I’m feeling brave. We can skip today if you’re not up to it,” I tell him.
He gives me a sarcastic look. “Brinn, are you telling me I look tired?”
I shrug. “You’re looking your age.”
“You wound me!” he says in mock outrage. “I’m only four years older than you.”
“Absolutely ancient.”
“Let’s see if we can make it to the meadow, and we can just play ball.”
I nod and hold my hand out to help him up. He takes it and runs his thumb back and forth over my knuckles momentarily before pulling himself up. His hand stays in mine as we turn and begin our trek. Our hands fall away, but our knuckles brush each other occasionally, as if we’re both checking that the other person is still there.
We’re quiet as we walk, but my thoughts twist and churn inside me like a gathering storm. “Are you okay?” I blurt out. “Be honest.”
“I’m always honest with you,” he says instead of answering.
“So, are you okay?”
“I’m... stressed,” he says as we cross the footbridge. “Sierra has another surgery on her leg coming up, and it’s hard not to be there, but I’d take up space.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“Sierra’s place is tiny, as is her hospital room. It’s easier to have only one of us there. I’ve been helping my mom coordinate moving her stuff to New York, but that’s been hard, too.” He sighs. “Storage units, movers, my mom’s constant back and forth on what stays and goes.” He waves his hands like he could sweep it all away. Even now, I am captivated by the grace and strength of them. “It’s a lot. Once Sierra is out of the hospital, she’s going to need help for a while, so it’s necessary. I asked if she wanted to move down here instead of mom moving there, but she wants to stay in New York.”
We stop in the meadow and sit next to each other on a log, Isaac plopping down like he’s utterly exhausted. Pork Belly stamps the ground with excitement as Isaac retrieves her ball. Isaac throws it further than normal, channeling his frustration into the neon felt and rubber. Pork Belly bounds through the tall grass, leaving us alone for a moment. My hand runs over the strong planes of his back, and he takes an unstable breath.
“I’m sorry, Isaac. That is a lot to handle.” He leans into my hand, the gentle pressure a bid for comfort. I scoot closer to him, letting his warmth seep into my side.
“It’s hard to know if Sierra is going to ever fully recover. Between the traumatic brain injury and the damage to her legs and pelvis. It’s just going to be a very different life for her, you know? She’s a marathon runner and a math teacher who loves her job. She was talking about training to climb a mountain. Is she going to be able to go back to any of that?” He runs his hand through his hair, adding to the chaotic waves. “She tries to be brave in front of Mom, but she calls me at night a few times a week, after visiting hours are over, and cries. I have to be the person who’s strong for both of them.”
He sniffles a bit as Pork Belly appears in the clearing with her ball. She excitedly drops the ball at my feet. I throw it for her, watching as she takes off like a rocket through the grass. We are alone in the quiet cradle of the meadow once more.
“You don’t have to be strong for me,” I tell him. “What can I do for you? It’s my turn to help you.”
“Kindness isn’t transactional,” he reminds me.
“A wise man once told me, ‘Everyone needs help sometimes.’” I nudge him playfully with my shoulder.
“That guy sounds like an asshole.” He nudges me back. A sliver of laughter lines his red-rimmed eyes.
“I beg to differ.”
I can feel the pensiveness rolling off of Isaac as we take turns throwing the ball in silence.
“You’re helping just being here,” he says after a while. “I find comfort in routine. This gives me something to look forward to. When Sierra calls me crying after physical therapy—when my mom is complaining about the size of the storage unit—when I can’t figure out how to make whatever I’m working on work —it’s like the room is running out of air.” His words are as tight as his shoulders. “But I know I get to take a break and step away with you and PB. That helps.”
“Isaac, I regularly cry on you while going for walks. That can’t be any less stressful.”
He looks at me with eyes clearer than they’ve been since we met today. “Is it so hard to believe that the good times with you outweigh everything else tenfold?” He looks away as PB returns again, and I am left floundering. “You help by being you, Brinn.”
How can he constantly confuse me and comfort me at the same time? My head spins from his confession. I can’t possibly be helpful, but I want to be. “Still... I’ll lean on you less.”
“Only if you don’t need to. Being with you is the easiest part of my day, no matter what’s happening.”
“If there’s anything I can do or do differently....” I will do anything he asks, no matter how difficult it is.
“I’ll tell you, I promise. For right now, just show up whenever you’re able. It helps; you help.”
“Okay.” I trust him to keep his word. I trust him more than anyone.
Pork Belly returns but drops herself at our feet instead of the ball. I watch as Isaac takes her collapsible water dish out of the pouch and fills it from his own bottle. His tender smile seems to come easier now, his muscles less bunched across his body.
I wrap my arm around him and rest my head on his shoulder, hoping the contact will give him the same comfort it gives me. He relaxes into me, his hand coming to rest on my knee, calloused thumb slowly stroking my skin.
When did I become such a creature of touch? I struggle to remember if it’s always been like this with my friends or if it’s a facet unique to Isaac and I. Regardless, it seems to soothe both of us. We watch the pastoral scene of the meadow with no hurry to leave.
“There’s no place that I’d rather be right now,” he says.
“Me, neither.”