Page 71 of The Older Brother
“Lost,” I finish for her. It’s a kind word, and he may not deserve that. But she doesn’t deserve to hear my honest thoughts about her other son. Especially not since I love this one so much.
“You had graduation. Do you have photos?” She leans forward and sets her mug on the stone table.
“I do,” I say through a smile, shifting to loop my cross-body bag over my head. I pull my phone out and slide through my photos to the ones from graduation night. I move over to her sofa to nestle next to her.
“This is me with Cami.” She pulls the phone into her own hands and zooms in, inspecting both of our faces.
“That’s Miguel’s sister, right?” She looks up at Rowan, and he nods.
“You two are all grown up. You’re women now. Simply incredible.” She begins to slide through more photos, noting the nice waves I curled into my hair for the ceremony. She stops on a group shot that includes me and Caleb, though we aren’t standing next to each other. She runs her fingertip over her other son’s face, and my chest tightens with guilt.
“He was very handsome,” I say, and her smile inches up.
“They’re both handsome men. They got the best of us, I think.” Her gaze lifts to Rowan, and I try to take my phone back from her before she notices the next photo. Unfortunately, her gaze drops just as my hand meets hers, and there, my mom’s face is staring back at her.
“Oh,” she breathes out, her mouth locked in a frozen O shape.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to?—”
“No, no.” She shakes her head and hands my phone back to me. “She’s your mom, and that’s separate. She’s a good mom. You were always a priority.”
I bunch my mouth, but hold my tongue, not voicing my doubts.
Over the next hour, I catch Rowan’s mom up on the stages of my life that she missed, including the little mailbox incident when I was learning to drive stick shift. I find a few more photos to share, and I even ask her advice on how to handle letting myfamily know I want to work in social work or for a non-profit. We both know, I think, that it’s my mom who is the tough sell on my plans, but we use the plural them as if my father needs to be convinced as well. It's easier to speak in vague terms, avoiding a path that would villainize my mom. It would be too easy for both of us.
Finally, the sun about to set, Rowan suggests we should hit the road, and his mom holds up her hand, begging us to wait for just one second while she finds something in her backroom.
“She’s always loved you,” Rowan says, and my heart kicks at the L word coming from his lips. I know he feels it, and I know he’ll get there when he can.
“She’s always been so nice to me. Nobody braids my hair anymore, not since she left. I don’t think anybody else knows how,” I say.
His mom rushes back to us after a few seconds, her hands grasping what looks to be various hair product samples. She slips into her kitchen for a plastic bag, dumping them inside, then hands the small sack to me.
“It’s not much, but happy graduation. Your hair is going to need some love in college, especially with all the swimming. And I have all these things and figured?—”
“Thank you,” I say, hugging her then kissing her cheek. She exhales at my ear, like she’s been holding her breath and awaiting my approval just as much as I have hers.
“Maybe you can teach me how to braid my hair next time,” I say as Rowan opens the door.
“Next time.” She smiles. “I’d like that.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you, Mom.” Rowan leans back into the door just enough to kiss his mom’s cheek, then holds my free hand all the way to his car.
I sort through the samples and products his mom gave me, some of them expensive salon kinds I would never be able to buyfor myself. Rowan turns his car on, then studies me while I sink both hands into my goodie bag like a hungry kid on Christmas, and I glance at him with a grin.
“I’m going to like some of these, and I’ll never be able to get more.” I rub my finger and thumb together to show my lack of dollars, and Rowan covers my hand, urging my eyes to his.
“I’ll get you more. I’ll get you anything you need. I’ll give you the world.”
And I know right this moment, despite the language he chose, that Rowan Anderson loves me back.
Chapter 23
There’sa lightness to my chest that I haven’t felt since I was a kid. I didn’t realize how deep the poison of that secret had seeped into my body until I let it out. It’s still uncoiling from my bones, having wound through my ribs, choked my lungs and eaten away at my arteries for years.
The stress of being me isn’t completely gone, but it’s gotten easier to exist. I know I should deal with the biggest secret stowed away under my seat right now, but that one is trickier. There’s less emotion involved. I don’t have love for my father. I don’t even think the blood matters anymore.
Rather than sorting through how the hell I’m going to handle that, though, my mind keeps going back to what Saylor said. She loves me. Exactly as I am. The monster and the mama’s boy. The man and the tortured past. All my rough edges and soft insides. An Anderson. The son about to betray his father. She loves me.
