“He could be trying to lure you into a trap,” I warn.
Westin’s face scrunches. “Are you all right?”
“I’m serious, Wes. Daddy doesn’t like men who date his daughter.”
He laughs through his nose. “We’ll be back in a bit. You’re free to make sure your father, who has been nothing but nice, hasn’t trapped me, if it makes you feel better.”
I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’ll be hard to operate with one hand.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Westin says before giving me a kiss.
And I’m going to take care of my brother.
When they both leave, I march into his room, throwing the door open. “You don’t get to blame me for Mom’s death. You want to blame me for living a good life, have at it, but don’t you ever imply I didn’t do enough for her. It was you who ran away when things got too hard. I was the one who cleaned her up, changed her sheets, and tried to comfort Dad while you were too busy fucking anyone who would open their legs.”
I continue on, getting it all out. “I gave up everything for her. I don’t live with any regrets about how I cared for her, so don’t project your shit on me! Selfish prick!” I pull the door shut, not giving a shit about anything he has to say.
I’ve had it. For years I’ve put up with my brother insinuating it was me who was responsible for Mom’s death, but my father is right, I did what I could. I walked away from the life I wanted desperately because I hoped it would help her. My brother can’t walk away from the bar to help get food for my father.
He frustrates the hell out of me. Life isn’t easy, but we make sacrifices for the people we love. Everton, apparently, is above that.
Once again, I clean, while my brother’s music blares in the other room. The kitchen is the least destroyed since I cleaned up last week. I get through to the living room, and head to my parents’ room.
All of my mother’s belongings are still where they were when she died fourteen years ago. I grip the picture frame of the four of us that sits on her dresser. The photo is faded, but our faces are still clear. My father has his arm around my mother, and she’s looking up at him, while my brother and I are in front of them sticking our tongues out at each other. We were at a summer barbeque, and I was maybe ten and Everton was eight.
I sink onto the bed with a mixture of sadness and joy. This photo was supposed to be thrown out, but my mother said it was the best picture she’d ever seen. This was who we were and she never wanted to forget it. She did throw away the one we took not even a minute later where we were all standing with smiles. To her, we were the most beautiful when we were the most honest.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say as I touch her face. “I don’t know what I was thinking, but I’m going to make it right somehow. You would be so disappointed in me for lying. I just wanted to stop another person from hurting the way it hurt to lose you.”
I don’t regret switching the medications, which is what I grapple the most with. I truly believe this will help Allison, and she deserves the best I can give. What I’m struggling with is that if anyone finds out what I’ve done, I’ll never be able to help another woman who’s suffering like my mom did. I might have destroyed many more people by making a choice to save one. I’ve managed to risk so many people, including those who matter most in my life, all because I was weak and didn’t truly process the ramifications.
Maybe if I can believe that my mother would forgive me for what I’ve done, I can start to forgive myself a little.
For now, I just have to find a way to atone. If I tell people what happened, I’ll destroy Westin. If I don’t, I’ll live in this constant state of fear. There’s no easy choice, but I know I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for what I’ve done.
My vision blurs and I close my eyes, wanting to feel her with me. So many times, I sat on the edge of this bed, seeking her advice. She’d push my hair back and run her fingers through it as she talked. I imagine this time she’d say I should protect who I can, and do my best to clean up the mess I’ve made, but I needed to be honest with myself about why I did it.
“Ren,” Everton’s voice breaks the silence.
“What?” I say with defeat.
“I know you’re pissed, but I just miss her. It doesn’t help that Dad talks about her nonstop and he’s always fucking sad. It’s like I can’t breathe here.” A tear falls down his cheek. “It’s not you I’m mad at, it’s me. I can’t . . . I can’t do this . . . I’m drowning here.”
Instead of seeing my six-foot-five younger brother, I see a broken man. He loved my mother with everything, and I think maybe he just wasn’t able to handle seeing her in pain. Everton started drinking, partying, and doing God knows what with women when Mom died. He struggled with her death just as much as I did, but I went to work to make things better. Everton tried to drown out the pain however he could.
“Why didn’t you say something?” I ask.
He sits beside me, taking the photo from my hand. “I tried once, but you’re kind of scary.”
“Me?”
He pushes his shoulder against mine. “You’re a surgeon who was in a damn magazine. I’m a shitty mechanic who works for my father and still lives at home. I hate this town and I’m going nowhere.”
I sigh. “I’m also your sister who you used to torment by putting garden snakes in my drawers.”
Everton laughs. “That was a long time ago. But now I’m saying I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live in this house. I swear, sometimes I hear her voice and wait for her to come around the corner. Dad needs help that I’m not able to give. I need to leave.”
My head falls forward, and I feel more overwhelmed than ever. Getting my father to leave this house will be impossible. If I asked Everton to stay for him, he probably would, but it’s not like what he’s doing is helping as it is.
“Where will you go?” I look in my brother’s brown eyes, eyes that are filled with sorrow instead of anger.
“I don’t know, but I have to get out of here.”
And now the million-dollar question. “What about Dad, Ev? What do I do, because he won’t come with me, and he can’t stay here?”
“I’m not sure, but you’re smarter than me.”
Helpful as always. “And I guess it’s up to me to figure it out,” I sigh and get to my feet.
I understand my brother’s plight, but my father is the one who will have his life flipped around. I’m not sure what to do, but I’m going to have to figure it out—fast.
“You’re the good one between us, Ren. I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Everton touches my shoulder and strolls out of the room.
The worst part of this is that I’m not surprised. I expect this kind of thing from my brother. He’ll do what’s best for him and I’ll sacrifice what I have to in order to make sure Dad is taken care of.
I hear my brother’s bike fire up, and I have no idea if he’s leaving for good, but I can’t worry about him. He’s going to make his choices, and in the end, he will have to live with them.