Page 10 of Back to You

Brandon actually didn’t mind coming over and doing what he could to help. God knew Michelle was capable enough to do it all, but that didn’t mean she had to. It was hard when her husband was deployed.

“Have you talked to Steven lately?”

“Yeah, we all had a video call last night. He’s doing good. Said to tell you hi and he wants to have your babies.”

“I think you may have editorialized that a bit,” Brandon said, sliding the fish into the oven.

“Well, it’s not like it isn’t true.”

It was a fact that Sgt. Steven Westbrook had placed his brother-in-law on top of a pedestal. Every time Michelle teased him, he simply said, “The man helps my family when I can’t. That ranks him pretty high in my book.”

“I never thought that goody-two-shoes I roomed with back in college would turn into an Army badass,” Brandon said, shaking his head. “I haven’t heard him say ‘gee whiz’ in years.”

“That’s because I beat it out of him,” Michelle said.

“I’m sure he enjoyed every minute of it.”

***

Fourteen years earlier

Brandon planted himself against a wall of his dorm and silently watched as dozens of cheerful 18-year-olds flowed past him, full of glee and excitement and a sense of freedom.

He sighed. “Yep. I’m in hell.”

Brandon glared at the random passer-bro who was giving him a weird look for muttering to himself. Passer-bro made haste in another direction.

“For fuck’s sake, Brandon,” his sister grumbled as she trudged past carrying one of his boxes. Brandon fell in behind her, because he valued his life. “You’re going to college, not prison. Cheer the fuck up. And carry your own shit.”

He snagged the box just before it hit the ground, scowling as Michelle spun around and headed back to the car to grab more stuff.

Brandon glanced around the dorm’s lobby and heaved an extremely long-suffering sigh. Dorms sucked. School sucked. He just finished one school, why did he have to start another one right away?

Ignoring the many young people who were giving him admiring looks despite what he would argue was definitely not a pout, Brandon shuffled off in search of an elevator not teeming with life. He already knew he was living in room 418, and was dreading meeting his new roommate. Having corresponded briefly over the summer, all he knew was that his roommate was named Steven and he seemed incredibly eager to get to college. He also knew Steven frequently used such classic phrases as “gee whiz” and “golly.”

Brandon didn’t have high hopes for a lifelong friendship.

He heaved another sigh from the very depths of his soul as he approached the door to room 418. Never let it be said Brandon wasn’t, at his core, a bit of a drama queen.

“Hello?” he said as he pushed open the door. “Steven?”

The guy who turned towards the door was … exactly what Brandon had expected. About average height, button-up shirt and khakis, and loafers. He wore a bland wristwatch on one arm. His average-brown hair was cut in a tidy yet forgettable style, and his face was clean-shaven and absolutely normal. He looked like a nice young man who would help old ladies cross the street and go to church on Sunday. Brandon nodded, pleased to have been right.

“Hi!” Steven cried, dashing across the room to take the box from Brandon. “I’m Steven! It’s so nice to meet you! Gee, isn’t this exciting to be starting college! I figured you’d be here earlier — I hope you don’t mind me picking my bed!”

Huh, thought Brandon. That was a lot of exclamation points he heard there.

“Yeah, sorry man, got hung up in traffic. And I’m good with either side,” Brandon said, oddly fascinated by this throwback to the 1950s.

“Thanks! We can switch if you need to!,” Steven said, gesturing to the left side of the room, which contained a bed made up with a blue comforter and a desk with school supplies and a laptop. A dresser stood to one side, presumably already containing his clothes. Brandon noticed the right side of the room was a mirror image with the same furniture.

“Nah, I’m good,” Brandon said, dumping his box on the bed and pulling the duffel he was carrying off his shoulders. “Your parents already gone?”

Steven grimaced. “Uh, no. They’re in the hall.”

“Gotcha. Well, my parents and sister are helping bring my stuff up, if that’s cool,” Brandon said, heading to the door.

“No problem. Need some help?” Such a nice young man.

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