Page 108 of Creatures Like Us
“You mean why you just started hating me for no reason?”
“It wasn’t for no reason.” He scowls, shaking his head. “Our parents. Our teachers. Everyone. I’m not even a year older than you, but they expected me to be everything you weren’t. Piano lessons. Extra homeschooling. You remember, right?”
“I remember.”
“While you were out with your friends doing God knows what, Mom and Dad were hounding me about my grades. All that weight on my shoulders?…?You have no idea what that was like, and I started hating you for it. You had a life I couldn’t evendream of. Mom and Dad loved you, even though you didn’t do jack shit to deserve it.”
“But?…?they didn’t love me. They didn’t give a shit about me.”
“Isn’t it better that they didn’t give a shit about you than having them hound you about your accomplishments every second of every day? Isn’t it better to be left to roam free than get grounded when you got a B instead of an A?”
“I-I didn’t know. I didn’t know it was like that for you.”
I thought he enjoyed making our parents proud, but?…?maybe it didn’t really work out that way. Maybe he was suffering, quietly, under all those expectations. I wouldn’t know what that was like; no one ever expected anything of me.
“Yeah, maybe you didn’t notice the extent of it,” he says with a scoff. “Too wrapped up in your carefree little life. You know I didn’t have a girlfriend until I left for college? When haveyouever had to struggle like me, huh? When have you ever had to perform? When you’re shooting up heroin with your girlfriend? Or when you’re letting some freak have his way with you?”
“Shut up,” I snarl, fists shaking by my sides. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t know anything. You have no idea what I’ve been through.”
“Yeah, and you have no idea aboutmylife, Asher.”
“Why did you come here? Just to blame me again for what Mom and Dad did?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, as ifI’mbeing unreasonable. “No. Blaming you took some weight off my shoulders, but I’ve thought about it a lot since. Being away from our parents sort of cleared my head, and?…?Over the years, and as I talked to Emma—”
“Who’s Emma?”
“My girlfriend. Anyway, I realized it wasn’t your fault. And I’m sorry.”
Tears press to the back of my throat, but I swallow them down. “I would’ve done anything for you, you know,” I say, voice shaking. “Anything?…?for you to love me back.”
“I know, little brother. I’m sorry.”
I nod, letting the words sink in for a while. So this is what he wanted to tell me back at our parents’ house? I couldn’t grasp it at that time, and I’m not sure I can grasp it now. A few months ago, I would’ve been thrilled to hear it. I would have forgiven him then, but now?…?I don’t know. There’s nothing I want to even say to him anymore. It’s too late. Too much has happened. The divide between us is too wide.
Despite that, I say, “Okay,” and nod. Mostly because I just want him to leave so I can go to Noah.
He puts his hands on my shoulders. “So we’re okay? We can be friends again?”
“Friends?” I glance into Noah’s room. “I don’t know.”
“I’ve been thinking of coming home for the summer holidays. We could hang out.”
I shrug, still focused on Noah’s room, trying to hear the beeps of the machine telling me he’s still alive. “Maybe.”
Ethan waits, as if he wants me to give him more, but I can’t give him more. Not right now, at least. I can’t consider the future right now; I can’t think about anything but Noah, and my brother seems to figure as much.
“All right.” He shrugs, but I don’t miss the tension in his shoulders, nor the stiffness of his expression. “Guess I’ll see you around, then, little brother.”
Before I get a chance to reply, a nurse emerges from Noah’s room.
“He’s awake.”
Sunlight filters through the blinds, giving the room a dreamlike glow, which is fitting, I suppose. It feels like a dream stepping inside and seeing him there, alive.
Despite his face being paler than usual, he looks as much like a nineteenth-century photograph as the first time I saw him. Beautiful like one, mysterious like one. But he’s not as much of a mystery anymore; he’s mine.
Our eyes meet, and he gives a weak smile. “I lived.”
