Page 71 of All the Promises We Break

I would have done better if I’d been in one of those fucking period piece dramas where they duel, and someone takes a sword or dagger to the heart. That’s what this was, only with words.

It cut deep. He knew what to say and used it with such ease. I get it. If I’d had a sister, I would have done the same. If I knew someone in my family was dating someone like me, I would fuck them up too. I’d take a thousand beatings if he’d have never said those words.

I feel this overwhelming pain in my chest. I’m finding it hard to breathe. My right arm wraps over my rib cage as I fall to my knees. My left elbow catches the arm of the couch. I use that as shelter for my head to hide from everything around me. The rumpled rug. The tipped glass. The liquid slowly dripping from the table.

I rock back to my heels as I try to force air back into my lungs. All I seem to do is exhale. My muffled gasps are broken witha soft hand on my back. Hayley didn’t leave. After all that, she came back. I relax my body into hers. She begins to cradle me like a baby. The air I can start to take in is only greeted with tears forcing it away again.

“Are you crying?” she asks.

“I… I did it again. I knew it would happen. I fight. I don’t fight. I beg. I’m silent. It doesn’t matter, I’m still alone.”

“You’re not alone. I’m here.” I hold tighter around her waist; my head buried in her lap. “This is about more than just a brawl with Eli. Talk to me, please?”

The delicate fingers that I’m used to either digging into my back, tugging on my hair, or curling around the edges of my bed are coaxing me into a confession Hayley was owed a long time ago. “Do you know what tomorrow is?”

“Saturday. If we were counting, we had sex for the first time three weeks ago.”

“Hayley, what’s your first memory of me?”

“I think I was like six or seven and you came over. I wouldn’t leave you and Eli alone until you taught me how to dribble a basketball with both hands, not just my right. I remember practicing every day. Then you didn’t come over for a long time. Every time I asked about you, Mom, Dad, and Eli would all look at each other and say you’d be back soon.”

I slide slowly off her lap, bracing myself against the side of the couch. My elbows drape over my knees as my own fingers tug and pull on my hair. The memory she’d just given me was a key. A key that’s turning the past into the present.

“You tried so hard with that basketball.” I get lost in the image I have of her pigtails bouncing in time with the ball. The ball. It rolls over and over. Each hit of the ground comes with a thud and a bounce. Thud and bounce. “Have you ever talked to Eli about his accident?”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s the one thing you can’t unhear. The thud and the bounce.”

“Wes, you’re not making sense.”

“Even if you can’t see it, you feel it. The thud rings in your ears, and the bounce is like if you’d toss a rag doll to the ground. Everything becomes independent of each other. A limb goes this way, a limb goes that way. All life is just gone.”

“Wes, you said you weren’t with Eli when his accident happened.”

“I’m not talking about Eli. I’m talking about Michael.”

“Michael? Is that a friend of yours? I thought I knew all of your and Eli’s friends.”

After wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I reach into my pocket for my wallet. Inside it is something I go nowhere without. It’s a halved strip of pictures from one of those arcade photo booths. When I slide the fold open, it reveals the three amigos. Eli is on the left, I’m in the center, and Michael is on the right.

Hayley slides the picture from my hand and muses about our not changing a bit in a decade. How I wish that were true. “Michael was the guy you wanted to be. You know? He was the life of everything.”

“You look like a boy band,” she giggles. The name settles with her. “Wait. Michael. That was the name on the plaque on the bench in Vermont.”

She crawls toward me, positioning herself between my feet. I can feel her eyes burning holes into the top of my head. I can’t look at her through this. “Michael was my brother. He died fifteen years ago. Tomorrow’s his birthday.”

Hayley

I’m trying to process what Wes just said. Brother. He has, or should I say had, a brother. I start the search of my brain to see if I can remember ever hearing about him before. Why wouldn’t I know? How could I not have known?

I curl my legs as tight as I can around me, so I can get closer to him. There are so many firsts today. Being open with my parents about Wes. The fight. The horrible things Eli said. I’ve never known my brother to lash out like that. Not even at Tori, who deserved it more than anyone. The other first is scaring me the most.

This is the first time I’ve seen this kind of emotion from Wes. Even when we were all in the hospital waiting for word on Eli, he didn’t crack. Not one time. He was the rock for everyone. The rock is crumbling. I remember something my mom taught me, if someone chooses you to bare their soul to, your duty is to listen and be a witness. I don’t know what I’ll see in the end, but he needs me.

To center myself, I take a quiet deep breath before I engage again. “Brother? You’ve never mentioned him before. Eli’s never mentioned him before.”

“I’m the reason he’s not here. Me. I did it.”

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