Page 60 of When I'm Gone

Aaron lied. He lied all the time. He had this wickedly magical way that made it seem like even if I caught him in one, he could make me think I didn’t.

But faking screenshots seemed like a lot of effort. Why would he want me isolated from my brother? He knew I didn’t have anyone else. Wasn’t I already vulnerable enough for him? And if he went to all that trouble, would he so easily let me go?

“How am I supposed to believe you?” That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? Could I even believe my own eyes after my perception became so muddled?

Brady leans back and takes a deep breath as he thinks. “Because I’ve never lied to you?”

It’s not that easy anymore. The silence between us stretches until it’s uncomfortable. It’s not like I enjoy this, I’m doing this because if there’s hope to repair what’s broken, we’ve got to unearth all these lingering skeletons.

“Eas, that wasn't fair. I know you’re trying, and I appreciate that.”

Efforts falling short getting acknowledged is not something I’m used to anymore. “There’s not much more of this I can take. And I think I’m hurting Chase. That's the last thing I want to do.”

Brady’s chestnut eyes go all soft and mushy. Gross. “He’s good for you.”

There’s no hope of stopping my snort. “Yeah, too good.”

My brother raises an eyebrow at me. “Why would you say that, Eas? You deserve the absolute best, and that's Chase.”

He really doesn’t fucking get it does he? “Because he ruined me. I’m not the same person anymore. Fuck, there’s no way I can even come close.”

His brow furrows as he pulls his lip in between his teeth. He wants to hug me, the grip on his knees gives him away, but he knows it’s unwelcome.

Physically, Brady and I couldn’t be more polar opposite. He’s got at least five inches on me, and where I’m bone-thin, he’s broad and muscular. Brady’s a copy of our father with his dark brown hair, chocolate eyes and strong jaw. Me? I’m our mom, through and through, much to her ever-vocal dismay. Boys should be tough and rowdy, I was quiet and timid. It’s like she never accounted for the fact that having kids meant that she’d create a whole new human with its own personality, not figurines of her husband. Because, of course, she wouldn’t have been able to bear having girls.

Since the very beginning, Brady was the perfect son. If only he didn’t have that pesky heart that stopped him from pulling the pigtails of girls he thought were cute or picking the weird kid first in dodgeball. That was what stopped him from instigating wrestling matches with me when it was obvious I didn’t stand a chance to hold my own.

That bleeding heart he wears right on his shoulder for allthe world to see, like I wouldn’t have been shamed for having it in the same place.

Neither one of us knows how to properly address my confession, it's hard to debate facts, but there’s still more I want to know. “How did you not know they were going to hate me?”

Brady seems puzzled, but it’s bothered me since he said that he was too stunned to face the reality. I can understand that he was only twenty years old and lacked the maturity to know how to react if he was surprised, but seriously, how did he not see it coming?

“You did? Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you even go talk to them if you thought they wouldn’t accept you?”

“Because I was being blackmailed into it, you blind donkey!”

My brother freezes, mouth agape and a hand uselessly hanging in the air. Good to know Chase has kept my secrets for four years. Though, a part of me knew he would. That’s why I told him to begin with.

While I fully expect him to scream, accuse me of lying without a shred of context, he only sounds profoundly sad. “You didn’t tell me that.”

I didn’t this, and I didn’t that. He didn’t do things either. “Do I need to tell you everything? Can't you figure something out on your own?”

Communication was obviously not a skill that was learned in this family. Maybe it’s fucking hopeless. We’ll never be able to understand each other. Leaning forward, I dig my knuckles into my eyes until starbursts fill my vision and sigh. All the motivation I originally felt is draining more rapidly than I had hoped.

“Easton, I want to fix this. More than anything, but you gotta help me out here. To me, Mom and Dad kicking youout came out of nowhere. All I knew is that you were having trouble at school and you were sad.”

How is it possible that we spent practically every second together before he left for college and we have such vastly different memories of when we were growing up? To me, it was a series of feeling inadequate and terrified. Those are as clear as day in my mind’s eye down to the green carpet I stared at in church, trying to ignore my mother’s pointed stare as vitriolic hatred was met with a symphony of amen. Things in between the trauma are fuzzy at best and entirely absent at worst. I don’t know how to explain a lifetime worth of being the lesser child in a way he would get it.

“When you look back on everything pre my life going to shit, what is that like? Do you have happy memories of them?”

The couch creaks as he stands, then his footsteps can be heard as he leaves me behind again when things get too hard. Chase is going to be so fucking disappointed in me.

Something is pressed against my hand, causing me to look up. Brady’s there, holding out a peace offering.

“Sour candies,” he answers before I can ask. Shrugging, I tear into the package and shake a few out into my palm before tossing them into my mouth. My lips twist up as the bitter flavor explodes.

Brady forgoes civility and dumps some from his own bag straight in his mouth. “I still always have them around, just in case. Some habits are harder to kick than you’d think.”

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