3volve (5 page)

              He places his hand over mine and squeezes my hand, “I’ve been putting in longer hours,” he says, pulling away from me. He shifts to look at me, “So what’s the good news?”

              I try not overanalyzing why he pulled away and look up at him, “Alright, brace yourself,” I say proudly. “I got a job!” I finish with a big smile. My face isn’t used to smiling as of late, so I can feel the push and pull of my muscles fighting to be used again.

              “Wow. That is good news!” He bumps my shoulder, “I knew you were going to get one sooner or later.”

              “Well I’m glad it happened sooner rather than later because I’m running low on savings.”

              “I feel like good fortune is headed your way sooner than you think.” He smiles, dimples showing. And I see
him
again, the person who doesn’t shirk away from my touch.

              “I hope so,” I say, getting up. “So what are we still doing out here?” I open the front door and throw my purse on the side table. “What happened to your key?”

              “I forgot it at…uh…you know, I don’t remember where I left it,” he stammers, setting his suitcase down by the door. He’s never forgotten his key. I turn around, eyeing him suspiciously, but he shrugs it off. “So what have I missed?” he asks, changing the subject.

              He thinks I don’t know he’s hiding something—little sneaky sneak. Fine. I’ll go along with it and ask Nessa later. “My cooking is off the chain now.” I throw my keys into the bowl.

              “Ha. Right. Now tell me what’s
really
happened this week?” he takes off his coat and hangs it on the coat rack.

              “Seriously,” I insist, pulling him to the kitchen. “Look,” I open the fridge to show him all the leftovers.

              “Color me impressed,” he says, grabbing a dish and warming it up in the microwave. He leans against the counter, crossing his long legs and staring at the clock on the wall.

              “You okay?” I ask, following his gaze across the room.

              “Uh huh,” he says. The microwave dings and he pulls out his food. “I’m expecting a call is all.”

              “Alright,” I shrug. Maybe it really is work stuff. I wave him off, instead of staying to keep him company, I walk to the stairs and sit down on the steps, pulling out my phone.

I text Vanessa.
What’s up w Charlie?
I send, waiting for a response.

When my phone buzzes, I click on the message.
He has to tell you.

I text back.
Tell me what?

Vanessa responds,
I can’t. Ask him.

Fine.
I push in with force, pushing send.

“What are you doing?” Charlie asks, towering over me. He’s eating out of the container.
Ugh, such a guy thing to do.

“What’s going on with you? I know something is up, I’m not stupid,” I say, putting my phone back in my pocket.

He groans, “Later. I need to take a nap first.” He takes a bite of my chicken enchiladas.

I haven’t been gone for three weeks and everyone is already keeping secrets. “Fine,” I say getting up and walking to my room. “You can sleep in my room.”

              He runs his hand through his hair, “Great, I just need a few hours to catch up.”

              “Then you’ll let me in on what you’re not telling me?” I ask, opening my door for him to walk through.

              “Yes,” he sits down on my bed, laying the empty container on the nightstand. “Wow, this room is clean.” He sounds surprised, running his hand over my clean sheets. He looks around my room, and I can see his facial expression change. He looks between the bathroom and the bed. A solemn expression takes form, lips puckered at some newfound information he’s not letting on yet.

I choose to ignore his look of disappointment because he’s tired. “Don’t sound so surprised. I can clean,” I argue, stepping in front of the bathroom.

He stops scanning the room, looking up at me—the look he gives when he knows I’m lying. “You know you shouldn’t be sleeping in their room,” he says, looking across the hallway.

“I didn’t say I was sleeping in there.” I cross my arms.

Charlie kicks his feet up and walks across the way to their room. He opens the door and sees the tangled up sheets and clothes on the floor. He doesn’t have to say anything; I can feel his thoughts intruding my head:
You shouldn’t be sleeping in here. Why don’t you pick up your clothes, it’s not that hard? What are the twins supposed to think if you close yourself off in here?

Instead of saying what I know he’s thinking, he pulls me into his arms. I sink into his embrace, pressing my face into his chest. His warmth was always a constant I knew I could depend on. I cling to the back of his dress shirt, not wanting him to let me go this time.

“I know, I know what you are going to say, but I feel safe,” I whisper into his chest.

“It’s not healthy. You should be sleeping in
your
room. It can’t be good for you in the long run,” he says, rubbing my back. He’s usually a strong and assuring presence, but now I can feel him starting to pull away. Even if he’s still holding me, I know he’s not here with me in the moment. He’s checked out somewhere else.

“I won’t sleep in here forever. I just need it now,” I tell him, not wanting to let go of my hold on him.

He looks around the room, not wanting to push it further, and says, “Okay. We both have secrets it seems.”

              What kind of secrets is he keeping from me? I look for answers in his moves in his sad brown eyes. Instead, he rubs his blood-shot eyes, walking back to my room. I follow him to probe him for answers. When I get to the room, I see him loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. I stop, turning around to close my eyes. “Sorry,” I tell him. Although, I’m not sure why I close my eyes—I already turned around.

              He chuckles at my sudden bashfulness. “You can turn around now.”

              I turn around to see him wearing a tight-fitted shirt. He lays down on the bed, hanging his legs over the edge, draping his arm over his eyes. Charlie pats the bed for me to sit down next to him.

Reluctantly I sit down and roll on my side to look up at him. “So, why are you so tired?” I ask, resting my head on my elbow.

“Long hours.” He peeks at me through the crook of his arm. He looks at me with a lingering stare. And I begin to feel uncomfortable, shifting in the bed.

Why am I getting uncomfortable? This isn’t the first time we’ve laid next to each other except, before he never looked at me like he is now. Except before, I wasn’t wondering if he liked me. Changing positions, I move to lay back down on the bed, asking, “Why have you been working long hours?”

“Something important I’m working on,” he says, leaning against the bed frame.

“Like?” I look sideways at him.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

I laugh, “And when will that be?”

Charlie turns to his side, reaching out for me. I huddle closer to him. “Soon,” he says and I rest my head on his chest. “I’m really tired.” He closes his eyes and a silence overtakes us.

His face looks so gaunt. The afternoon sun is blazing against his cheekbones. Whatever it is he’s keeping from me, it’s keeping him exhausted. I know he’ll tell me eventually. I just hope it comes sooner rather than later.

I place my hand over his heart. The gentle thumping of his heart soothes my discomfort. I almost forget the reason why I haven’t slept in this room. I haven’t slept in here in over a year because it felt so empty, an unknowing abyss of guilt. Except for now. Except when he’s sleeping next to me. I focus intently on his steadied breathing: how his chest upheaves with every intake of breath. I close my eyes, more calmed than I was this morning.

Without knowing it, I fall asleep and drift off into my dreams: a peaceful dream world—a forgiving and heavenly dream where my parents comfort me. It isn’t just a repeat of the past. It isn’t about regret or grief. It’s just a moment where we sit on the living room playing Pictionary and eating pizza. Jeremy and Jeremiah are laughing, finishing each other’s sentences.

It’s the best kind of dream where you don’t know there is an end.

But there is.

And when I wake up, it hits me.

All that I’ve lost.

Chapter 6

The light is baring down more than before, piercing my heart with an ever-longing reminder of my dream world. I pick up my head to look at the time, afraid the boys are waiting for me. The time ticks slowly, showing I still have an hour until I have to be at school. I sigh, relieved I haven’t messed up again. I carefully pick up Charlie’s arm to move it without waking him up. But his hold is strong. Our legs are tangled together in the sheets. Charlie shifts in the bed, his grasp holding onto me tighter.

I wiggle free of him and slide off the bed. He stirs slightly, opening his eyes, “Where you going?” he mumbles.

              “Sorry. I have to make dinner. Go back to sleep,” I tell him in a hushed tone.

              “Mmm…” he flips over, covering his face with the pillow. I leave him to finish taking a nap, and I go back downstairs to prepare dinner.

We were just sleeping. We just fell asleep. That’s totally a friend thing, right?
Then why am I still thinking about how it felt to be in his arms?
I shake the thoughts away.

I need to concentrate on dinner. After putting the dish in the oven and setting the timer, I grab my keys, purse, and leave to pick up the boys.

              They’re both sitting on the curb outside the gym. Jeremiah is reading a book, and Jeremy is on his phone. Regardless of being only a few inches apart, they’ve never looked so far apart. They pick up their heads as I slow down in front of them.

              “I’m early!” I smile in the rearview mirror, looking at them settle into the backseat.

I don’t know what I expect. I guess some sort of recognition or a glimmer in their eyes that tells me they even heard what I said. I don’t get any of that. I get the undeniable silence that has settled in our household the past few weeks.

              Jeremiah rests his head against the window, not looking up at me. Jeremy rolls his eyes, still on his phone.

              “So, not talking huh?” I ask, after ten uncomfortable minutes. “Thanks, Cris. Nice to see you, Cris. How was your day, Cris,” I mock, hoping to get their attention.

              “I just don’t feel like talking,” Jeremiah mutters.

              “Good. No one wants to hear you anyway,” Jeremy leers.

              I pull into the driveway, locking the car so they can’t get out. “Whoa, whoa. Okay, what’s going on?” I ask, worried, turning around.

              “Nothing,” Jeremiah shrugs.

              “Now he doesn’t have anything to say, figures.”

              “Uh, guys you mind telling me what’s going on? You never fight,”

              “How would you know? You’ve never cared about anyone but yourself!” Jeremy shouts, banging on the window.

              Jeremiah shoves him into the door, “Shut the hell up, man. Don’t talk to her that way.”

              Jeremy shoves him back. “You shut up. You didn’t even stand up for me. What a brother you are. And I don’t know why you’re sticking up for her! She doesn’t care about us.”

              Jeremiah scoffs, “You did it to yourself!”

              “What is going on?” I ask, being the one to raise my voice.

              “Coach got after him,” Jeremiah tells me.

              “What!” I cover my face in my hands. “What did you do? Do I have to talk to your coach?”

              “Shut up! You’re not Mom. So stop acting like you have to talk to anyone.”

              I scoff. “Trust me I know. It’s not like I want to be stuck here either,” I murmur exasperated. And immediately regretting it left my mouth at all.

              But Jeremy isn’t willing to talk. He grabs his backpack and rushes out of the car up the porch steps. Disappointed, I turn back to Jeremiah, “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

              “Not my place,” he shrugs.

              “Really?” I ask, amused. “And what exactly is your place, little brother?” I ask, arching my eyebrows.

              When the front door slams, Jeremiah cringes. “So you do remember huh? I thought you forgot we’re
you’re
little brothers.
Brothers
.
Family.
” He punctuates every word, grabbing his backpack.

Opening the door, he stops before closing it, looking at me. The car light illuminates his grown up features. “I stood up for you, but it doesn’t change anything. Advice,
big sister
, try starting a conversation with us. Ask what’s going on? How are we doing with all of this? He’s right, you know, all you do is think about yourself,” he says, shutting the door.

              I’m left sitting in the dark, empty driveway. I didn’t realize they both felt like that. Have I only thought of myself? In the three weeks I’ve been home, I’ve learned to cook. Cook for them. How is that selfish on my part? I guess he does have a point though. I haven’t stopped to ask how they’re doing with everything. I just assumed they were doing fine in their own way.

             
I walk inside sheepishly, throwing my purse down on the nightstand. Unsure how I should respond, I yell up weakly, “Don’t think you’re going anywhere this weekend either.”
God, I sounded like my mother.
I slouch on the couch, tired from the exchange. I don’t hear the steps until he’s overshadowing me.

“Everything okay?” Charlie asks, placing his hand on the back of my neck. I forgot he was asleep in my room.
Dammit.

“Oh god. Sorry, did we wake you up?” I ask, getting up in a hurry.

“It’s fine.” He ushers me back down. “I was awake.”

“I messed up. I yelled. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“It was bound to happen,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I shoot back, upset.

“You know,” he motions.

“No, I don’t,” I shake my head.

“You aren’t exactly close. It’s all an adjustment. You have to see it from their point of view.”

I shake my head again. “No, it’s just Jeremy. God I don’t know how to get through to him.”

“It’s not just Jeremy. They are both having a hard time. They need some space. You all lost your parents, and you are all dealing with it in your own way.”

“He was being antagonistic,” I argue.

“All the more reason for you to be there for him. Look, I’m not justifying anything, and you felt you had to yell at him,” Charlie says softer.

“He deserved it,” I insist.

“I’m sure you felt that way, but he doesn’t need you to yell at him. What he needs is to know you’re there for him. Go be a sister, not what you think you have to be.”

I scoff. “Why do I have to apologize?”

“Because it’s the grown up thing to do. Be the bigger person here; he’s just a kid who lost his parents.”

I groan, standing up, “I lost them too.”

“I know.” He clutches my shoulders. “But you had a lot more time with them than they did. You need to go talk to them and say you’re sorry.”

“Okay.”

He smiles and moves for me to pass. “I’ll check on dinner.”

I don’t know why I have to apologize, where I’m concerned he was being a total dick. Stupid brothers.

I stop outside their room and I hear Jeremy crying. The sound of his sobs change my resentment to regret. Charlie’s right, I shouldn’t have yelled at him. I press my head against the cold door, listening to his pleads. I don’t hear Jeremiah, so I walk to the other end of the hall and listen in for him. It’s too quiet, so I open the door to my room, but don’t see him. I look in my bathroom and check the windows, crossing my fingers he didn’t run away.

My heart starts racing when I don’t find him. I run out of my room, forcing my ears to pick up any sounds out of the ordinary. Then I hear him, shuffling in our parent’s room. I open the door, expecting him to be on the bed, but he isn’t.

“Jer,” I call for him, searching the room. When I hear the closet door clamber, I open it. Jeremiah is nestled between Dad’s boots and Mom’s dresses, a drawing in his hand. I sit down in front of him.

“I remember when you drew that,” I say, reaching for the drawing. When he was five, he drew all of us, even his imaginary friend Gerry. It was when I was already in high school and wasn’t around as much.

“I was supposed to take you to see Madagascar,” I say, turning the page around to see the date.

“But you didn’t, so I made up Gerry.” The friend who would always be there for him because I abandoned them.

I bite my lip to hold back my tears. “I didn’t abandon you then; I was in high school.”

“Then college,” he says wrapping his arms around his legs. Jeremiah is looking at me with those sappy eyes. “Are you going to give up on us now?”

“What? No of course not,” I scooch closer to him.

“So, you’re not going to tell Aunt Nani to take us or something?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Why would you think that?”

“You’re stuck here, instead of out there,” he says. The hurt hits me.

“Come here,” I grab his hand. “I didn’t mean what I said. Okay? Let’s go check on our brother, together.”

I open the door, leading Jeremiah through with me. Jeremy looks up at us from the floor, eyes red around the edges, cheeks puffed out. I soften at his tears.

I’m back to when he was four and scabbed his knee when he fell of his bike. Suddenly, I realize I’m the big sister who said Mom’s kisses would make it feel better. Her kisses can’t make
this
hurt feel better, not anymore.

I sit down next to him, patting the floor for Jeremiah to sit down too. “I know I’m not Mom. And I will never replace her. But I love you. I’m sorry that I yelled; I didn’t mean it,” I tell him.

“Whatever.”

“I know you didn’t ask for this—for me. I don’t know what I’m doing here. But there’s nowhere else I would rather be than with my little germs.” I put my arms around them both and they don’t shirk away. “I’m not going anywhere. Tell me what’s going on. Talk to me,” I insist.

Jeremy wipes his tears on his shirt. Reaching into his backpack, he pulls out a letter. “I was supposed to give this to you last week, but I couldn’t.” I open the envelope to find Jeremy faces suspension from the team because of his grades.

              We lean back against the bed frame, the letter open by my feet. I’m not angry or disappointed anymore.

Charlie was right. Sure, he didn’t come out and say it, but I
was
only thinking of myself. Much like Jeremiah, who really did come out and tell me I was selfish. I didn’t have their best interests in mind or even stop to think how it might be for them. I figured they were processing everything in their own time and on their own…but they weren’t. Oh boy.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next morning I wake up to the pounding in my head and the crick in my neck. Sleeping on the floor of my little brother’s room was probably not the best idea I’ve had. Jeremy and Jeremiah are sprawled out on either side of me, pillows covering their faces from the sun. I slowly get up and walk over them to open the door.

              It’s still early. I wonder if Charlie is awake yet. I sneak into my bedroom and see him asleep under the covers. Papers are scattered around the bed and floor, hanging out of manila folders up against his open briefcase.

            
 
I wonder what he has been working on. My curiosity gets the best of me, and I stoop over papers scattered along the floor. I see my name scrawled along the top of a set in the closest folder.
What the heck?
Before I can reach down and pick it up, Charlie stirs awake.

“Oh hey,” he grumbles.             

              “What is all this?” I ask, still eyeing the folder.

              Charlie shrugs, “Just some work stuff.”

              “But why is my name on those papers?” I point at them.

              “Would you believe a coincidence?” He rolls his head and shoulders in a slow motion to adjust to an upright position. I feel sorry for him. My bed wasn’t made for grown males; heck, it barely holds my slender body comfortably.

              “No.”

“Ah, well then, there you go,” he sighs, getting up and stretching out his arms. “It’s nothing to be curious about. Don’t you trust me?” he asks, picking up all the papers and folders, then filing and locking them away in his briefcase.

Trust goes both ways—he’s the one locking things away from me.

“I would if I didn’t know you were keeping something from me. And I know you’re keeping something from me.”

Charlie lays the briefcase against the nightstand. Walking over, he brushes my hair away from my face. Trailing up my arms, gripping my shoulders, he looks into my eyes, and suddenly I forget I’m supposed to be mad at him for hiding whatever it is, but I’m not. I’m not mad at the man standing in front of me because I know he has his reasons.

Charlie doesn’t say anything. He keeps looking at me, letting his eyes speak for him. He squeezes my shoulders, and all my tension leaves my body. Before my mind has time to catch up to my body, my face is inching towards him.