So instead of accepting what has happened, what went wrong, I decide to channel it into my work. I stand and walk over to my canvas, then pick up a brush. I open up that emotional box that has lived inside of me for so long and release it, letting my heart guide each brushstroke instead of my mind.
“I was wondering when you’d come by.” My big brother eyes me as I hop off the final step in Saint Street, then walk toward the bar.
It’s been a few days since Reeve left, since it all happened, and I’ve been avoiding the one person I should have gone to initially.
“I just needed time, Ali. As I’m sure you know, there has been a lot going on lately.” I try to laugh, ending the sentence on a lighter note, but it falls flat. But Ali, being Ali, smiles nevertheless, motioning toward the stool in front of him.
“Want a drink?” he asks, his hands busy polishing the glasses. I swear, Ali being so hands on with Saint Street, willing to do the grunt work, is why so many people would never expect he was the owner.
“It’s ten in the morning, Ali. I’ll stick with a tea.”
He disappears out the back, and I walk my fingers up and down the bar to distract myself. They leave smudges along the way, ones I quickly wipe off with my jumper sleeve.
“I tossed in a biscuit, figured you might be hungry,” Ali says as he rounds the corner, then places the teacup and saucer in front of me. I spot the digestive and shove the thing into my mouth in two bites.
“Thank you,” I mutter, crumbs falling out the side of my mouth. I wipe my lips before taking a gulp of tea and swallowing.
“So, you want to talk about it? Or mindless conversation?” He’s not being facetious.
I let out a huge breath, shaking my head. “Ideally,” I say, “I’d love to ignore it all, pretend it didn’t happen, talk about Saint Street and my job, but I think I’ve done enough of that for the past few months.”
Ali’s eyes soften as he looks at me, his movements still busy as he preps for tonight. He knows it will be easier for me to talk about it if the conversation doesn’t seem so intense, if mundane actions can be completed while I bare my soul to him.
“Have you heard from him?” I ask, finally ridding myself of the question. I wish I could say it was like shedding skin, moving on, but it just reestablishes the need I have for Reeve. The desire to make sure he is okay.
Ali nods. “I have, Em. Not much, I mean, he called that day, saying he was leaving town for a bit to see his dad.” Ali shakes his head and I don’t need a superpower to know what’s going on inside of it. He’s beating himself up over not being there for Reeve, not being there for me.
“Hey,” I say, my throat tightening. “Reeve made his own choices; he chose to keep this to himself like I chose to keep our relationship between us. You can’t keep taking on other people’s bad choices, Ali. You hold zero responsibility.”
“I just feel like if maybe I’d been more available, you guys would have come to me. I know things have been crazy this year, with me, with Stana, but I can’t help feeling like I’ve let you two down. Like I left you alone when you needed me, Em.”
“Stop,” I tell him, my voice stern, certain. I feel tears brimming in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
“I can’t be mad at you for being protective of me, Ali,” I begin, hoping my quivering voice holds its ground. “You’ve been taking care of me for longer than I can remember, and that isn’t your fault, I let you. I let you take care of me and guide me and make choices for me because I was terrified that the world would swallow me whole if I stepped out alone. But I’m not a child anymore, and I need to do this on my own. I need to take responsibility and make my own choices. I need to make mistakes and fuck up every once in a while. And I need you to be okay with the fact that you won’t always be able to save me. I need to save myself.”
“Em—”
“No, Ali, I need you to listen.”
He nods, closing his mouth.
“Reeve made his choices; in his head they clearly made some semblance of sense to him. There isn’t anything you or I could have done differently to change the outcome. And it’s the same with my choices. I chose not to tell you. I also chose not to tell Stana, Owen, and Lottie. All you’ve ever done our whole lives is be there for me, for everyone. But this year, you finally found a girl who can be there for you in that special way in return, and I can’t tell you how much I love that for you. Because Stana coming into our lives not only brought back some of the color, but also gave me the time to realize I need to grow up, and sometimes, I need to do it alone. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
My brother looks at me thoughtfully, in a light I’ve yet to see upon his face. He reaches across the bar built by our parents all those years ago, and his hand encircles my wrist.
“I think you’ve done the growing up, Em. It might just be time for me to step back now. I’ve been so used to parenting you, I sometimes forget we’re not children anymore.”
I can’t help but smile at him because Ali only ever means well. “It’s easy to forget. You’ve taken care of me for so long, I’m not surprised I always go to lean on you.”
We’re silent for a few moments, both of us seeming lost in the memories of the past.
“You’re an adult now, Em, but I’m always here for you.”
I look up, “I know, Ali.”
“And as much as I want to track Reeve down and have words, I can see you need to handle this.”
“See, you’re getting the hang of it already.”
He laughs, returning his attention to the glasses.
“Well, as much as I’d love to stay and chat, I’ve got a deadline to hit. Now that I’ve covered my bases and everything has been explained, I’ll probably be stuck in my flat till all the work is done.”
“Have you spoken to Owen yet?”
I guess part of me saying all has been covered would assume I meant Owen too, but in fact I’ve yet to see him.
“I figured I’d let Lottie take the reins on that. I’ll see him eventually and we can chat.”
A smile pulls on Ali’s mouth at the mention of Lottie and Owen.
“They will figure it out,” I say. He looks at me quizzically, but I know it’s an act. “Oh, come on, Ali. I know you don’t gossip, but anyone with eyes can see Lottie and Owen are endgame!”
“Are what?” he asks, clearly not following pop culture.
I shake my head in dismissal. “Never mind. I gotta run, but I’ll call you tomorrow!” I’m already sprinting out of Saint Street, my red boots ringing out with every step.
A few minutes later, I’m just sitting down on the Tube when I spot Noel across the cart. I consider avoiding him, not having seen him since things finished between us, but nothing ended badly so I figure why not.
His eyes reach mine as I’m about to get up, and Noel takes the liberty to walk over to me.
“Long time no see.” He grins down at me, and I return the action.
“I know, it’s been a while. How are you?”
“Not too bad. Work is keeping me busy. How about you, how’s the painting?”