Page 14 of The Wrong Brother

“It’s so early. Would you stay? For a little bit?” she asks nervously.

“What should we do?”

“I had an idea but now I’m afraid you’ll think it’s dumb.”

I don’t like seeing her looking so unsure and worried. “Try me.”

“Don’t make fun of me. I thought, well, I wondered…Would you maybe read to me? I like the sound of your voice.”

“That sounds fun.” That compliment gets stored away to be paraded out later, when I’m alone. I stretch out on the bed next to her and she hands me her e-reader. It’s a novella about a brilliant scientist, on the spectrum, who falls for his research assistant. It’s hilarious and sexy. I can tell she’s tired but Catherine stays awake until the end.

“I can barely keep my eyes open but I wanted to finish the story once you started it.”

“Me too. That was funny! And a good idea.” I’m closing her kindle when a question bubbles to the surface, breaking free before I can decide whether or not I should ask. “Why’d you do it?”

“What?” Catherine asks, forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“Why did you date my brother? It never seemed like you were very invested.”

“Oh,” she sighs, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. “It felt like I owed it to everyone to try. And maybe if it worked out, I’d finally be that perfect oldest daughter, doing everything right and making everyone happy.” She doesn’t look sad. It’s more like it’s something she’s resigned herself to.

“Do you truly think everyone expects you to be perfect?” I reach over, smoothing her hair away from her face.

“No. Yes, sometimes. Or I at least think there’s this ideal that I can never reach.” She hasn’t looked at me once so I gently turn her face toward me.

“The way you are and what you’ve accomplished are more than enough, Catherine. You don’t have to be perfect. Perfect is boring. Perfect is plastic and fake and shallow. You’re much more than that. I could be crazy,” I make a face at her and she giggles quietly, “but I think it’s ok if you try to find something that makes you happy, instead of worrying about everyone else.” She gives me a little nod, eyes blinking rapidly around a light sheen of moisture. Leaning over, I press my lips to her forehead, lingering a moment before sitting back up.

“Would you read something else? Until I fall asleep? It feels good, having you here.”

How could I say no to that? She chooses something she’s already read, so she won’t miss anything. I’m barely getting started, liking where the story is headed, when she slips her hand under my arm, fingers resting lightly. It’s a tiny gesture but it makes my heart squeeze in my chest. These are the things I’ve been missing, the things I’ve been wanting—those little bits of familiarity and affection. I keep reading even after her breathing indicates she is asleep, relishing the feel of her hand in mine. She rolls over, tucking herself against me, her warm breath tickling my arm. I read a little more. I don’t want to move and disturb her. And, yes, I’m enjoying the cuddle. I keep reading, pausing occasionally to look down at her, until my eyes grow heavy and the e-reader drops from my hands.

* * *

I swim back to consciousness like surfacing from underneath a wave, the sensations moving against me like rolling water. There’s a soft, feminine scent; something hard poking under the edge of my back; a tickling sensation on my shoulder; fingers woven between mine. I crack open my eyes, blinking away the sleep. Catherine’s head is on my shoulder and her arm is stretched across my chest, holding my hand. Why is she holding my hand? I’m afraid to hope. Her e-reader is under me but I can’t be bothered with it right now. It’s the best sleep I’ve had in a while. I want to stay like this forever but this wasn’t her intent. I should have left last night. I start to slide toward the edge of the bed and her fingers tighten in mine.

“Are you trying to sneak out?” The blue of her eyes is like well-loved denim in the morning light.

“I didn’t mean to wake you. Or sleep here.”

She stretches, looking carefully at our hands.“You should at least have some coffee. I wasn’t going to kick you out, Rafferty.”

“I didn’t want to be a bother. I have clients off and on all day anyway.”

“You’re not a bother. Feel free to come back if you need the shower. There’s a key for you on the entry table. I forgot all about it last night.”

The morning should be awkward but it isn’t. Catherine is sore but not as tender as yesterday and she’s moving around, slowly but surely. We talk over coffee and I leave her to her Saturday. I consider going back to “shower” but it would only be to see her again. I shouldn’t. She’ll need space to think and consider her plan without me underfoot.

After pondering the fake boyfriend idea throughout the night, I need a sounding board. I think it’s time to bring Mina in.

Me: You up for coffee? Maybe breakfast?

I wait a bit, relaxed on a bench in Kaka’ako. She doesn’t respond so I try again.

Me: Busy this morning or can we hang?

Mina is usually quick with texts. What could she be up to on a Sunday morning? I wait five more minutes and reach out one more time.

Me: Meens? Are you still sleeping or ignoring me?

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