Page 22 of Unwanted

Without hesitation, I climb up onto the bed, invading his personal space, waiting for him to look at me. Needing him to look at me.

When he does, my stomach roils in anguish at the tears pooling in his eyes.

“I know I should’ve told you,” he hiccups. “But I…”

Wrapping my arms around him, I hold him as his walls crumble and overdue sobs fill the room. It’s clear I don’t know exactly what happened before we were reunited, but Lennox’s struggle with depression in his younger years should’ve been enough for me to know there was more to the story than what he’d told me.

When the crying has subsided a little, I hear him rasp. “Why are you asking?”

Hating that I have to pull away, I bring my phone between us and keep typing.

Me: What I’m going to tell you might be a lot to take in and I’m sorry. Tell me to stop when it gets too much and I WILL.

He reads the words on my screen and nods.

I continue to relay the information I was given earlier.

Me: Doctor Keriakos said it was likely that the football injury contributed to your hearing loss, but it isn’t the cause.

“And what?” he interrupts, the anger in his voice rising. “Getting thrown around by my foster parents is?”

I open my mouth to argue but quickly realize my mistake and type furiously on my phone.

Me: You have a genetic degenerative condition. You would’ve lost your hearing eventually, no matter what, but getting knocked around, then and now, may have brought it on quicker.

“Do you have it?” he asks.

I shrug. When the doctor explained it all to me, I didn’t care if I had it too. Iwantedto have it instead of Lennox. I wanted to take away his pain and burdens and gladly live with all of them till my dying breath. Safe and healthy and happy is all I’ve ever wanted for my brother, and all of the unknown between us makes me feel like he’s anything but.

I continue to talk to him through text, trying to tell him as much as possible.

Me: Your inner ear and nerves in your ears have been damaged over time because of the condition. Add in some decent blows to the head and you now have what’s called sensorineural hearing loss.

“The doctor told me what I had now, but he didn’t say anything about a genetic condition. Why wouldn’t he tell me that? Why didn’t he ask me about my past?” he asks, his frustration returning. “I’m the patient. Not you.”

My throat tightens as I type my response and remind him.

Me: You told him he could talk to me.

“I thought he would be telling you stuff I already know,” he spits out. “I’m sure this is a breach of confidentiality.”

I quickly reply and try to reroute the conversation. Dr. Keriakos was wary of asking Lennox when he was already dealing with so much, but I insisted I wanted to be the one to deliver the news. As much as I hated how mad he was, I would rather remain the bad guy in this situation than have Lennox upset with the good doctor.

Me: What are you mad at? That I found out about the abuse or that it’s genetic and you didn’t know?

He reads what I’ve written and then eyes me, his expression changing immediately.

“What am I mad at?” he roars. “Do you know what it’s like to feel yourself boil over in anger and to know you’re screaming and not be able to hear it? Do you know what it’s like to wake up from a concussion and realize you can’t hear a single fucking thing?”

Torn between reaching for him and giving him space, I sit on the mattress, as still as humanly possible, allowing him to continue with his tirade, wanting him to give me all his pain.

“And not only am I deaf, but it’s also genetic and nobody knew because nobody gave a shit.” He grabs a Jell-O cup that’s been sitting on the tray beside him and throws it across the room, causing it to splatter against the wall. “Because once again, nobody gave a fuck about me.”

He slumps his body against the propped up pillows, throwing his arm over his eyes. “I can’t do this, Frankie,” he says, the words catching on a sob. “I can’t fucking do this.”

Ignoring my earlier attempts of trying to give him space, I move closer and wrap my arms around him. It doesn’t matter that he’s so much bigger and more built than I am; he’s my little brother and he needs to know that hecando this.

Thatwecan do this.

---