Page 84 of Insatiable Hunger

There’s a stack of papers on the nightstand, so I grab them, pulling open the drawer to stuff them inside, when I see it; a plain white envelope with my name written across the back in blue ink.

My heart, I swear, stops beating for a second as my hands, which are now shaky, grab and pull it out. It’s Elena’s handwriting, I recognize it. My throat aches, a lump forming, and my pulse is racing. It feels like I could pass out. There’s a pressure building behind my eyes that’s been there since this morning, but that’s now steadily growing.

I want to open this and see what’s inside… but I also don’t. Dread lines my gut like thick tar as I fall down onto the bed.

Dear Zeke,

In case I haven’t told you in a while, I’m so incredibly proud of you. We had to overcome so much in our life, grow up much quicker than we should’ve, and there was a period in time where I questioned whether you’d make it out alive. I know Mom and Raf’s death was hard on you. Hell, it was hard on me too. Just like I know mine will be hard for you too.

From the first moment that doctor told me I had breast cancer, I think I knew—even then—that my time was coming. Sometimes you just know.

I love you from the bottom of my heart. You’re the best brother anyone could ever ask for. You are horrible with opening up and talking about the tough shit… the emotional shit. It’s why I’m writing this down for you to find after, instead of having this conversation with you while I’m still here. Because I need you to know a few things, and I need to ask a few things from you.

I know I always said I wanted you to get married and be happy. I stressed that, probably more than I should’ve. But that’s because this world is a cruel place, and we had a rocky first quarter. I wanted more for you than we were given. I wanted you to have a loving type of family life because, even though I was so young when Mom died and I stepped in with you, it gave me so much. Even though I never had kids of my own, I had you. The love I got to experience raising you was the greatest gift of my life. Watching you pull yourself out of the struggle and become a better man made my heart burst with pride. I only ever wanted you to experience the type of love you gave me. I dreamed more than anything that you would finally allow yourself to fall truly, deeply in love, and I’d get to see that fun, carefree, soft side of you I knew was still inside you, but that you refused to let out. I’d get to see you have the love you deserve.

And you know what? I got my wish. I got to see my brother love and be loved. But it wasn’t with Valerie.

Now, don’t get me wrong… I love Valerie. She’s an amazing woman and had you been in love with her, she would’ve been everything I wanted for you and more. But I know, deep in my heart, she’s not. I didn’t even connect the dots until the last time I came to visit you. Fourth of July. That’s when everything clicked.

I saw the way you looked at him. The way your eyes followed him, admired him.And viceversa, I saw the way he looked longingly at you. The way he scanned the crowd for you. I saw it, Zeke.

And I need you to know that it’s okay. I don’t know how you talked that woman into marrying you, but I know you did it for me. But I don’t need you to do that for me anymore. It’s okay. It’s okay to let yourself truly love.

In my death, I ask you for one thing (and how are you going to say no to a dying woman?). Please stop hiding yourself. Please stop punishing yourself for feeling how you feel. Please do not lock your heart up and throw away the key. And please, please, let yourself be loved. Tell him how you feel because it’s okay.

I love you more than words, Zekey. Thank you for always being the little brother I needed the most. I’m sorry I won’t get to be there anymore, but please know, I will always be with you.

Te amo siempre,

Elena

My vision blurs, tears soaking the paper as I read the last line. Crumpling the paper in my fist, I hold it to my heart as I let myself, for the first time in years, cry. I let out every feeling and emotion I’ve had since learning about Elena’s cancer. Every ounce of sadness, anger, disappointment, hopelessness. Everything.

I let it all out.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Elias Carnell

Zeke looks like shit.

The bags under his bloodshot eyes tell me he hasn’t slept much. Mom and I arrived from the airport yesterday, and the house was already full of people. A handful of little kids running around, people cooking, cleaning, chatting, drinking. There was even a random Frenchie running around, tongue hanging out of his mouth, chasing the kids.

A woman named Chantel introduced herself to us when we got here. She was Elena’s best friend, apparently, and she’s the one helping Zeke with all of this. From what I’ve gathered between shit my mom’s told me and eavesdropping, Zeke and Elena didn’t have any blood-related family here in the States. So, planning the service and handling everything after Elena passed fell completely in Zeke’s lap.

I haven’t had a single moment to talk to Zeke since arriving, and I likely won’t the entire time we’re here. Between all these strangers talking to him, and my mom being here, there isn’t a whole lot of alone time.

Not that I would even know what to say. I’m terrible in situations like this. I always say the wrong thing.

He’s exhausted, though. And not just physically. His black eyes tell me he’s soul tired. They lack life, lack joy. The room I’m staying in is close to theirs, and I heard him pacing the hall throughout the night. By the time I finally fell asleep close to two in the morning, he was still up.

The funeral was this morning at some church in town. It was a beautiful service. A handful of people even got up and spoke about Elena, which was heartwarming. Zeke read the eulogy, and though he didn’t cry, I could tell getting it out was a challenge. His voice broke on some of the words and his eyes were rimmed red. My heart broke for him.

Tonight, there’s a celebration of life happening here at Elena’s house. It’s why so many people are currently occupying the small space. Several aluminum tins line the countertop and fill the tiny table in the corner of the kitchen, most open and half-eaten. There’re coolers on the ground, filled with ice and beverages—mostly alcoholic.

Nearly everyone is drinking already, except for Mom, including myself. It’s not too late; only about eight thirty. The sun hasn’t fully set yet.

Walking into the kitchen to grab another beer, I glance up, feeling eyes on me. My gaze connects with Zeke’s, and he smiles. It doesn’t meet his tired eyes, though. Knowing I probably shouldn’t, but unable to help myself, I stroll over to him.

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