I sent the text, rolled over, and screamed into my pillow. I hated this shit. I needed to move on with my life.
* * *
I called Vic, and it was awkward as all hell. From his starched voice and cool tone I could tell he was still pissed about the whole ignoring his existence thing. I didn’t blame him. There was no excuse once I became an adult.
But I would own up to my mistake, and here I was, in a coffee shop near his job downtown, waiting for my brother with sweaty pits and shaking fingers gripping my coffee cup.
I spotted Vic as soon as he entered. He was all business casual in a nice blue shirt and navy blue slacks. I waved my hand in the air and he nodded, making a beeline toward me.
I stood. Hug or handshake? I debated with myself during the few seconds it took him to reach me.
I stretched out my hand, smile strained and heart smashing against my rib cage. “Hi.”
“Hey.” He clasped my hand and gave it a jerky shake.
I cleared my throat, and he released my hand. We both hurried to sit down.
“So thanks for, um, taking my phone call and for agreeing to meet me.” I gripped my mug again. The heat from the cup gave me a small dose of comfort and confidence.
He rested his chin on his clasped hands. “Why did you call me?” His voice was still cool, but his eyes seemed curious.
“I would like the opportunity to get to know you. And I want to apologize for not reaching out to you over the years. I’ve thought about it, and I can admit that I resented you and your mother.”
He nodded. “I can understand where you’re coming from. Thanks for being honest.”
His tone was thawing, and I relaxed my grip from around the cup. “Okay, so why don’t we tell each other about ourselves? It seems that you know a few things about me from Cameron, so why don’t you start?”
“All right. I’m a gym rat.”
I snorted. “Naturally.” I waved at his toned physique.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t always that way. I was skinny and short as a kid. Didn’t hit my growth spurt until I was seventeen. Coach in high school cut me every year but then begs me to try out my senior year. I told him to kiss my ass.”
“You didn’t?” I leaned forward and smiled. I could hear the pride in my voice. I totally would’ve said the same thing. Not out loud, but under my breath. Ma or Grandma Jean would’ve slapped the taste out of my mouth if I disrespected an adult.
“Well, I didn’t exactly say ‘kiss my ass.’ I just told him I wasn’t interested.”
“Tell me more.”
He went through a laundry list of things. We didn’t have much in common, but I didn’t care, I was desperate to somehow make up for twenty-something years in twenty minutes.
After a few minutes, we finally found something we had in common: music. My brother loved all genres, like me. I told him about my Mastermind group and how Nikki was on tour with her band. He promised to look her up.
Vic looked down at his phone. “Oh, shit. I gotta go. I’ve got a meeting in fifteen minutes.” He stood and grabbed his messenger bag.
“Of course.” I pushed back my chair and stood. “I’d like to hang out again.”
A small smile curved his lips. “Sure, Rae-Rae.”
I snorted, feigning annoyance at the nickname. “Looking forward to it, Vickie Junior.”
“Touché.” He smiled.
“I’ll give you a call. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Sure. If you aren’t busy, we can do lunch this weekend. Or I can show you my place.” He seemed a little unsure.
“Trust me, I’m not busy. I’ll call you, and we’ll do lunch.”
I relaxed back in my seat, a victorious smile on my face. I had done it. I’d swallowed my pride, and now my brother and I were on our way to forming a relationship. It was all thanks to Cam. He didn’t have to point Vic in my direction, yet he did.
I wanted to thank him.
No, I wanted to see him.
Giving into my desires, I grabbed my phone and called him. After a few rings, the voicemail came on. I hung up, too nervous to leave a message.
Hey. I met up with Vickie.
Vickie? He quickly texted back.
Oh. So he ignored my call. I mentally waved away the onslaught of humiliation that surrounded me like a dense fog.
Vic Jr. My brother . . .
Oh, yeah. He mentioned you guys were hanging out today.
“What? They’re talking now?” I yelled. An executive-type dude scooted his chair away from me. Whatever. We lived in Atlanta. Plenty of people walked around talking to themselves.
You guys talk?
Yeah.
Like on a regular basis?
My thumb nearly broke the send button on the screen. Irritation tingled my scalp. It felt like a swarm of mosquitoes danced on my head. I don’t know what I was more jealous about—Cameron forming a bond with my brother, or my brother feeling more comfortable talking to my ex.
About?
Sports, video games . . . you.
Oh. That’s okay, then. A wide grin spread across my face. Cam talked about me. I knew he missed me, missed us. It was just a matter of time before he got over the whole marriage thing.
That’s cool. So . . . wondering if you’re free next week? I’d love to catch up.
I leaned away from the table, high on optimism—like I’d just had a good cigar and a great glass of Scotch.
I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m not ready to talk yet. That’s why I didn’t pick up the phone.
The steady hum from the coffee shop disappeared.
Not ready to talk. He doesn’t want to hear from me.
A sharp pain burned my chest.
I studied the message again, and my eyes zoned in on a word: yet. He wasn’t ready to talk yet.
“I’m not giving up on you, Cameron.”
* * *
“Damn, how much stuff do you have?” My brother swiped his brow and leaned against the moving truck.
I smirked. “What’s the point of having all those muscles if you can’t use them to move your big sister’s most precious treasures?”
After we had lunch a few weeks ago, I casually mentioned I was moving in with Kara the following Saturday. Vic had volunteered to help in exchange for a six-pack of beer. I tried to give him money but he adamantly turned me down. My brother thought I was dirt poor. The just-graduated civil engineer thought he was balling and refused to let me pay for lunch. It was damn embarrassing, and I needed to make money from this book, pronto.
Vic gulped from a water bottle and then exhaled. “This was not the type of thing I’d imagined we’d do when I discovered I had a sibling.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble. But the advantage of not knowing me when we were kids is that I didn’t dress you up in my Barbie’s mannequin clothes. Mr. Puff Puff, my poor neighbor’s dog, God rest his soul, couldn’t walk right after I stuffed his paws into Barbie’s plastic heels.”
My brother laughed tiredly. “I don’t know what’s more ridiculous, the dog dressed in drag or his name.”