Page 43 of Here's to Now

Holy shit.This little boy is so much more like me than I thought.

Spending a lot of time on my own as a kid wasn’t always the best. Whenever I had to do anything in public for too long, it would cause these strange flutters in my chest. Those flutters led to immense pressure, which escalated to me being unable to catch my breath. My head would spin like a merry-go-round, images and voices swirling around me so fast I could hardly catch them. The first time it happened, I had no idea what was going on, which made everything so much worse. It wasn’t until I found a quiet, secluded place of my own that I could calm down. The second time it happened, I was more prepared and quickly removed myself from the situation I was in.

From my own experiences, I can see that’s what Graham is doing. He’s looking for a calm to the storm inside of him. While my hands ache to reach out to him, to pull him close and hug him, let him know everything is going to be just fine and to breathe, I can’t.

I slowly begin my retreat, but halt any movements once his head jerks up at the squeak of my shoes breaking through the silence.

He stares at me wildly, like he has no idea if I’m real or not.

I bring my hand to my chest, pressing it hard, showing him I’m corporeal. His eyes dart to the movement, and the first ray of light shines through the thunderstorm in his head. Slowly, his eyes shine brighter, his breathing evens out, and his body unwinds itself from the tangled mess of tightly coiled muscles.

“Kid?”

He stands quickly, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking away, clearly ashamed. Graham keeps his head down as he steps around me, careful not to look my way or touch me as he tries to flee. Reaching out quickly, I clasp a hand on his small shoulder, halting his movements.

He instantly stills, but doesn’t look back at me.

“Whoa, kiddo. Slow down,” I say. “Let’s take a moment, huh?”

I press a little harder on his shoulder, urging him to face me. He reluctantly follows my request, but continues to refuse eye contact. Whatever, that’s fine. I understand.

“Want to sit down a minute? Maybe take a breather?”

He doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, he removes himself from my grip and returns to his spot on the floor, bringing his knees up tightly to his chest. I follow him, matching his pose. We sit in silence for almost a full minute, which isn’t a long time, but when you have so much youcouldbe saying, it is.

“Does…” I pause, knowing how necessary it is to phrase my questions appropriately. “Doesthishappen often?”

I glance over at him, expecting a nod as a response. I’m surprised when his mouth opens, even more shocked when he speaks.

“Y-yes.”

Hearing him speak rips the air straight from my lungs. It always does. I don’t understand why we don’t communicate, but it’s like Graham knows how royally I’ve fucked my family over and won’t talk to me, like he doesn’t trust me.

Actually, fuck. That’s it.Graham doesn’t trust me.

How is it I’ve managed to lose the trust of an eight-year-old kid I’ve barely been around?Because you’re a complete screw-up, that’s why.

“Why?”

He peeks over at me, his eyebrows drawn together. Instead of speaking this time, he shrugs. I hold in a sigh.

“Is there something that maybe…triggers it?”

He shrugs again. This time Idosigh.Just when I thought I was making headway.

He picks at his black dress pants, folding together the crease running down the center, doing anything but looking at or talking to me.

“Graham.” His head rears back at his name coming from my lips. I realize then it’s the first time I’ve spoken it aloud to him. Strange. He’s my brother; I should say his name to him often. Yet, I don’t. “You have to tell me what triggers it. Maybe I can help.”

When his eyes lock with mine, I want to scramble away from the intensity I see in them, the wisdom. He’s the younger brother, but somehow I feel like he’s older than me. His stare is scolding and sure. I know mine is skittish and uncertain.

Hudson’s daughter Joey is just a year younger than Graham. She’s never looked at me like this. In fact, her eyes are always filled with wonder, happiness, hope. Graham’s exude knowledge, sadness, and acquiescence. There’s nothing childlike in his gaze, something I know I’ve lent a hand to, and that fucking hurts.

“Help,” he mutters, scoffing. “Right.”

Leaning my head back against the brick wall, I close my eyes. “Look, I know I suck, okay? I get that. I’ve been a shitty brother, and I’m beyond sorry for that, but you have talk to me, kid. You have to let me in.”

“Why? So you can let me down like you always have? No thanks,” he huffs.

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