He chuckled and replied, "It's all good. I have kids, myself."
"Oh, uh—"
"Blake, Blake, I need—"
I groaned and finally shouted, "Jake! Please, give it a rest, okay? Give me two minutes!"
I don't know what I’d been thinking, taking this call in the house. I should've stepped outside. Jake had zero understanding of patience or of the concept that I could too busy for him, and the constant interruptions were not only frustrating but embarrassing as well.
When he opened his mouth to speak again, I hurried into my room and shut the door behind me, locking it for good measure.
"Fuck. I'm really sorry. I thought it wouldn't be a problem talking here, but if it'd be easier, maybe I should give you a call when I'm at work."
"No, no, it's cool. Seriously." He was nothing but friendly, and I relaxed a little before he added, "How old?"
My brows lowered as I sat on the bed. "Huh?"
"Your son, how old is he?"
My head lifted with the realization that he thought Jake was my kid. "Oh, no, I don't have any kids," then I stopped myself. "Well, not exactly. That's my brother, Jake—Jacob."
"Oh! My bad, man. So, your brother is younger, right?"
Shane was making innocent, casual conversation. It was no different than how you'd get to know anybody else. But for me, these questions felt intrusive and invasive. I wanted to ward them off and defend myself, tell him it was none of his goddamn business. But Dr. Travetti was right, I get too defensive when I don't need to be, and so I took a deep breath instead.
"Uh, well, no. Not exactly. He's my twin brother." Immediately I realized how ridiculous and confusing that sounded, and I scrubbed a hand over my face before explaining, "He's disabled."
Shane's surprise was blatantly apparent as he replied, "O-oh, sorry, dude. I didn't realize."
I shook my head and felt the cocktail of irritation and embarrassment creep over my neck and onto my face. "It's fine."
"Maybe we'll talk about that in your interview," Shane suggested, and I began to sweat, despite the window being cracked open. "I mean, if that's cool with you. I'm just curious to know how that has affected your art."
My jaw clamped shut and my molars ground together. "I'd rather not. I don't talk about it much."
"Oh, yeah, of course," Shane hurried apologetically. "Sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it. That was a dickish move."
"It's cool," I muttered, laying my forehead in my palm.
"Anyway, so I'm heading back up to Salem in a couple of weeks to hang out with Cee, sometime around Halloween. Would you be able to get together then for the interview?"
I nodded to the nothing surrounding me in my room. "Yeah, that works for me."
"Awesome, man. I'm looking forward to it. Thanks so much for reconsidering, by the way. I'm fucking excited. The response from the ink you did on my leg has been insane."
I grunted my acknowledgement. "Yeah, I've been watching on Instagram. Pretty crazy."
Shane laughed boisterously. "You're so casual, man! God! I feel like I could tell you Ozzy fuckin' Osbourne wanted to get ink from you and you'd just be like, yeah, that's cool. You have a crazy vibe, I fucking love it."
I narrowed my eyes toward the wall. Nobody had ever mentioned my vibe before, and now, two people in less than a week had said something. It was a coincidence, I knew that. Life was all just a pile of accidents and coincidences that sometimes made sense and at other times, total chaos. But right now, I could distinctly feel my brain start to tip toward a belief in more. I shook my head to get that crazy shit out of there as quickly as I possibly could.
"Yeah, so anyway," he went on. "I guess I'll give you a call in a couple of weeks. Sound good?"
"Sure, yeah. That sounds great."
"Awesome. You take care, Blake. Can't wait to make this shit happen with you."
We hung up after our quick good-byes and with the sudden silence, I could hear Jake shuffling around and breathing outside my door. I sighed, thrusting my fingers into my dark hair, and granted myself two more seconds just to breathe. This ... Life ... In an instant, it just felt so heavy, laying on my back and weighing me down. I wanted to double over, collapse under its heft and give up.
But if I didn't take care of things, nobody would. So, I pulled in a breath, pushed myself to my feet, and opened the door.
"What's up, buddy?"
With big, worried eyes and a pout fixed to his lips, he looked like a lost, abandoned dog. Like I'd shut him out, never to let him back in, and the guilt of that, of putting something—myself—above him, left me burdened with a fresh bout of shame. I waited for him to respond, and when he didn't, I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and sighed.
"Come on, let’s go make dinner. What are you in the mood for?"
“Miss Thomas said she eats breakfast for dinner. She’s wrong. You can’t eat breakfast for dinner.”
I snorted, leading the way into the kitchen. “You can eat breakfast whenever you want, man. So, is that what you’re saying? You want pancakes for dinner? ‘Cause I’m totally down for pancakes.”
“Okie dokie.”
I opened the fridge. “Okie dokie. Pancakes, it is.”
***
"We're gonna stop at Jolie Tea on the way to school, okay?" I said, parking the car.
Jake checked his digital watch. "I'm going to be late. I don't want to be late."
"We have almost an hour before school starts, buddy. You won't be late," I assured him, as we got out of the car. I gripped his bicep and steered him toward the sidewalk. "And hey, maybe I'll get you one of their cookies."
"Cookies aren't for breakfast."
"Yeah, but you already had breakfast," I reasoned. "This is like, a snack before lunch."
"Snacks should be tasty and healthy."
I shrugged casually. "Okay, fine. Sorry I tried to be a nice brother."
We walked through the door of the quaint shop. The delicate scent of freshly brewed tea wafted along the air, and I smiled at the familiar faces behind the counter.
"My favorite brothers!" Mindy exclaimed, her ponytail bobbing as she moved to the register. "What can I get for you guys today?"
"Hey, Min. I'm out of my tea," I told her as Jake stood obediently beside me.
"So, you need four ounces of vanilla Earl Grey, right?"
"You know it," I replied with a smile as I heard the door jingle open from behind me.
"Anything else?" Mindy asked as Stella, the other employee, assisted the next customer, saying, "Good morning! What can I get for you?"
"No, I think that's everything," I said.
"You sure? No macarons for this guy?" She smiled sweetly at Jake, who responded with a shy curl of his lips.
He began to speak, then Mindy went to respond, but my ears weren't picking up on their brief correspondence. Instead they'd pricked at the soft melody of the other voice in the shop, and I turned my head, acutely aware of that sound.