Page 12 of Hiding from Hope

The room fills with the sounds of people enjoying their meal, but I just watch Casey. A glorious smile spreads across her pretty face, and it just somehow makes her glow brighter. She bites her lip instead of her thumb. She does what I can only describe as a little dance from her seat as she looks around at everyone enjoying their food. One word coming to my mind: marvelous. Watching her and seeing the rare moment of insecurity disappear, replaced by that warm smile. Seeing it right now feels almost like a little bit of magic.

It isn’t until her eyes make their way to me and startle that I realize I’m staring at her. Sitting completely still next to her, and my eyes haven’t wavered. It’s like an eclipse. You want to look so bad, want to never tear your eyes away because you don’t want to miss the magic or the beauty. Even when it’s better for your health if you avert your eyes. In my case, it’s better for Casey if I avert. All her clean and pristine happiness, mixing with the tar and dirt from my gloominess. It’s unfair, and she doesn’t deserve that.

What a jerk I’d be.

And yet… I just can’t look away. Can’t… stop.

I reluctantly pull my eyes from hers and try out the pasta everyone is moaning about—

“Oh my god,” I also moan around my food.

“See!” Addison beams.

“You like it?” Casey asks self-consciously next to me. Honestly, she could serve me cold stale bread with out-of-date butter, and I’d shove it in my mouth and tell her it was amazing.

“I honestly don’t think I have ever tasted anything better,” I say quietly to her, and her eyes dart to my lips, like she needs to see the words come out to believe them. Before I get lost again, I look back to my food and remain in silence for the rest of the dinner. Feeling somehow contented just being here and enjoying the comfortable happiness that Addy, Casey, and Rosie exist in.

I’m happy my sister has this place to be herself in, but I find myself jealous of her situation. We both suffered similar demons and the same tragic parenting, and somehow, she seems to have pulled herself out unscathed. Without the loneliness and self-hatred that clings to me with a death grip.

Despite where my thoughts lead me, I stay, soak up the bit of joy everyone seems to think is so good for us before I think up an excuse about an early start and head to the door. I get almost out the door when two little arms aggressively wrap around my middle. I turn and find Addison looking up at me with soft eyes and a smile. I soften slightly as she says a quiet, “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Making up with Rosie and staying for dinner. For… trying.” She shrugs and I do the same, giving her a small smile.

“Baby steps,” I say.

She shakes her head and laughs. “No, these are big steps. And I know you’re making them because you feel like a shitty brother. But I do love you, JJ. I forgive you, and I’m glad you’re around more. I like it when you’re around Little Rogue.” She punches me in the shoulder, her nickname makes me laugh a bit, too.

“I like being around, Big Rascal.” That little bit of honesty settles like a heavy puddle of warmth in my stomach. I toss her hair and she swats my hand as I turn to leave, and she closes the door behind me.

I can’t even recognize myself as I somehow end up back at my tiny apartment. The uneasiness that swims at the back of my mind. I do like being around them. My sisters, Noah, and Rosie. Casey.

But relationships, friendships, connections they all risk leading to that same place. That goodbye, that never really comes, just slammed doors, retreating steps and hateful words. No one really stays, not forever at least. And how could I trust that anything new is real? How do I know I won’t fuck it up and make them leave? Or that they won’t just get sick of the same old boring waste that is my life, and just bail the moment they can?

The thoughts spin in a loop as I mentally battle my way through my apartment and collapse on my bed. Exhaustion pulling at me as I replay the evening, seeing the way they all seem to unknowingly orbit around Casey. She has perfectly constructed herself to be their gravity, to ensure they are all where they need to be and have whatever it is they need to be comforted. And instead of affording herself the same, she sits in a silent happiness. Like their comfort is the sole thing that brings her joy. Lying here now, alone in the dark quiet of my room, the usual way I like it, remembering her, it feels like I am in a completely separate galaxy being swallowed up by a black hole. And I desperately search for any excuse to find the sun again.

Casey – age 16

2013

It was incredible. That a specimen could be designed this way.

I was innocently making my way to the bathroom to relieve myself. It wasn’t my fault that Jessie left his bedroom door open as he toweled off his hair after his shower. Thankfully–or perhaps, unfortunately–he had his boxers on, but that was it. And it was magnificent.

I watched as the water droplets from his hair dripped down the smooth lines of his back and he was slowly turning. Somehow that didn’t make me move to at least pretend like I wasn’t ogling him. Instead, I just soaked up every new bit of skin revealed as he turned to face me. His door was only open a sliver. The hallway was kind of dark, so maybe he couldn’t see me? I don’t care–he had abs, and they were incredible.

Addison had mentioned Jessie was in the back workshop further down their property, playing with bits of furniture when he was down. He’d injured himself in hockey and was off the team. I guess he found a new hobby. A hobby that gave him a new kind of muscle definition that was mouth-watering.

“Whatchya doing there, Ace.”

Busted.

Mid-ab-appreciation, Jessie spots me in the hallway, and with faux confidence and trying my best to hide my blush, I clear my throat and approach his door. He opens it wider, at some point having pulled on a pair of gray sweats.

“What’s that?” I point to a dark spot on his forearm… like it was the sole reason I was staring at him. He seems to notice my slight embarrassment at being caught, and he one hundred percent knows I was checking him out, but thankfully he just goes along with my pretend ignorance.

“Dropped some wood when I was in the shop earlier.” He shrugs, turning back into his room. I take it as an invitation, walking closer but leaning on the door frame, remaining safely on the outside of his room and the masculine scent of it.

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