But then, instead of replying with one of his usual stiff replies, he walked over and hugged me. I stayed there feeling dull and cold because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d hugged my brother. I clapped him on the back, still surprised, and drew the hug out as I recalled my father talking about Justin’s jealousy when we went out to dinner. My brother looked at me and shoved me on the shoulder.
“Everything will be okay, you’ll see. Who else knows?”
“No one.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“What did you expect?”
“It’s fine… I mean…well…I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” I said.
“Yeah. But if you need to talk or something…”
“I’ll call you. Thanks, Justin.” We went back to my house. “By the way, what brought you over here? Oh, and give me back my key. You broke the rules.”
“I’m keeping the key. I had some free time, I just assumed you were out surfing, and I thought I could come by and join you; you could give me some quick lessons. I called you, but you didn’t pick up, obviously.”
“Why would you want surfing lessons?”
“Why not?” He looked me in the eye.
“Because you haven’t done it in two decades.”
“It’s never too late. The other day I heard Emily say she thought these surfer tourists were hot. I think she was on the phone with a friend. And now I can’t get it out of my head. Lately we’ve been doing it less because with the kids, it’s just impossible, and look at me, I’ve got a gut now, and if I’m optimistic, I’ve got five more years before my hair falls out.”
I laughed, and he punched me in the shoulder.
“You’re an unlucky bastard. Don’t be an idiot though. What does her thinking tourists are attractive have to do with what you guys have? They’re two different things, Justin. And you somehow got lucky enough to have a wife who adores you, who’s fun and smart and very fuckable.”
“Stop talking about Emily that way.”
“Take the stick out of your ass.”
Justin stood still for a moment when he saw Leah in the kitchen making coffee. She smiled at him. “Want one?”
“Thanks, I’m on my way out though.” He looked at the two of us as though trying to put us together for the first time, then huffed, said goodbye, and left. I exhaled the breath I’d been holding as I walked over to Leah. I hugged her from behind and kissed the nape of her neck.
“We’ve got to talk, babe.”
96
_________
Leah
We agreed that we would tell Oliver on November first. I would have liked to do it myself, because I felt ready, strong, self-assured. I felt full of color and part of me wanted to share this with my brother. Axel smiled when he heard me and shook his head. He kissed me on the edge of my lips. He said he had to do it himself, Oliver was his friend, he loved him…and I respected that. Then he asked me for a favor, something he’d been putting off for months and that we needed to do first. He told me slowly, speaking softly, tentatively. I know he was frightened of what I’d say. I know he was worried I’d burst into tears and close up inside myself, but when I heard him, all I felt was an uncomfortable tingle in my stomach followed by curiosity. And…need.
97
_________
Leah
I observed the blurry colors we were leaving behind as we drove down the road. It was sunny, with no clouds. I turned my head to look at Axel’s profile, and I tried to memorize the image: him driving, relaxed, with an arm hanging out the window, the little scar on his left eyebrow from when he had hit himself on his surfboard when he was sixteen, his jaw, just shaved that morning, when I insisted on passing the razor back over the places where he’d left stubble; he was neglectful like that with everything…
He stretched out a hand and rested it on my knee. I was nervous.
“Remember, Leah, you don’t have to do this; it’s only if you want to. If you get cold feet, just tell me, and I’ll turn around right away and we’ll do something else, just spend the day out or have lunch on the beach. I just wanted to give you all the options.”
“I know. But I’d rather stick to it.”
I don’t know how long we were in the car because my thoughts were elsewhere, in a place full of memories I was slowly blowing the dust off of. It might have been an hour. Or maybe two. When we stopped in the middle of a development of white houses, the knot in my throat was so big I could hardly breathe.
He gave me his hand. I took it.
“You ready?” he asked, unnerved.
“I don’t think I ever will be,” I admitted, “so we might as well get it over with.”
I opened the door and got out. Humidity impregnated the air, and nothing was audible but the singing of birds and the hissing of the tree branches shaking in the wind. The place was filled with a sense of ease. I looked at the mailbox with the number 13 and the two-story home with the white fence around the small yard with its carpet of grass and a few toys lying around.
I walked toward the entrance. Axel followed me.
I rang the doorbell. My stomach clenched when she opened the door. She was a young woman, around forty, with a sweet gaze, pale skin, slightly sunken cheeks. Tension encircled us.
“I was waiting for you. Come on in.”
I could see her hand was trembling as she leaned on the door frame. It was hard for me to say the words, but I knew I needed to do it on my own, for me, because he had been beside me from the beginning, supporting me and lifting me up, helping me to keep going, to get stronger. I tried to control my angst.
“It’s okay… Don’t come in…” I whispered.
Axel seemed surprised, but stepped back and put his hands in his pants pockets. “No worries, I’ll be here waiting for you. Don’t rush.”
I followed the woman inside, and my heart started pounding when she closed the door. I looked at her living room, the framed photos of two smiling children with gap teeth, the comfy, familiar-looking sofa where I ended up sitting down.
She asked me if I wanted something to drink, and when I shook my head, she sat down in a chair in front of me and started rubbing her hands together. “I’m a little nervous,” she began.
“Me too,” I admitted in a hoarse whisper.
I looked at her. I looked at the woman who had changed my life, who one day, after a twelve-hour shift at a hospital, closed her eyes for a few moments behind the wheel and crossed over her lane into the opposing one, where we were driving while the first notes of “Here Comes the Sun” played. I thought I should feel hatred and rage and more pain, but when I felt around inside myself and looked, all that was there was compassion and a bit of fear of how unpredictable life can be. Because that day I had been on the other side, but on any other day, I could find myself in her shoes, because there are things you can’t foresee and almost can’t forget. And when she told me in tears how sorry she was, I realized that my work in that house was done.