Page 147 of Come Back to Me

Anyway, I knew what to watch out for, and Uncle Clay gave us older kids Swiss Army knives. After our first run-in, I made sure I was always carrying it.

This particular day, I brought up enlisting. He grabbed me by the throat and pinned me to the wall.

The bitch of being an older brother is that you’re scared for the younger ones. Cole was different—Clyde treated him better. I think it was because of him playing hockey. Either he wasprouder OR he knew someone would see the bruises and report it. That they wouldn’t be explained away so easily. But Callan? No one would know.

NO ONE.

He’d never tell anyone.

Not even us.

He’d just turn in on himself and we’d be in the dark.

I couldn’t allow that.

So, I was faced with not only refusing to take his bullshit, but needing to make sure that he could never unleash his fury upon Callan.

I had to end it.

I pulled out all the utensils I needed on my Swiss Army knife while he was yelling at me. The second he grabbed me, I sliced him with the knife—hit his shoulder but it didn’t sink in. Then, I stabbed him with the corkscrew. Neither took.

I’d made a bad situation worse.

At that point, I wasn’t scared for Cole or Callan, but myself.

I tried to run, that’s how scared I was, but he punched me in the back to take me down—I was pissing blood for days afterward. I managed to find my feet then spun on a toe and scratched his face with the corkscrew.

When he backed off, he was angrier than I’d ever seen him. It was ‘do or die.’ I leaped on him and took him to the ground.

I can still remember how close I was to vomiting as I pressed the spoon to his eye and dug in deep enough for him to yelp. Deep enough to feel the give of his eyeball.

Within seconds, his arms had stopped flailing and he didn’t defend himself, just raised his hands in surrender.

I told him that if he ever hit me again, I’d stab him with a real knife, and that if he ever hurt Cole or Callan, I’d scoop out his eye with that spoon and slit his throat as he slept.

I’m still not sure how it worked, but it did.

Maybe I looked as insane as I felt.

But I was so fucking scared for Callan—I knew I was going to enlist, and Cole was always going to play hockey outside of the province. Callan would be alone with a monster until Colt returned from college. He came home every weekend, but what about the rest of the week?

I wanted to end the bullshit and I did.

That day, I approached him about enlisting, and in the end, it was the only reason I could. Otherwise, I’d never have been able to leave. I guess I can admit that I’d have killed him if he continued, and I think that he knew that too. I’d have gone to jail to protect my brothers—still would—and I believe he recognized that.

So, there you have it.

That stuff about being cut from the same cloth as Clyde was partially founded in this secret…

A secret that might have you running away from me.

I’ll understand if you still think I’m a diminishing return and want to shed the investment.

Your song changed last night—am I wrong in thinking that it was less sad and more contemplative?

As for my request… “Meet you at the Graveyard” by Cleffy.

I miss you.

---