Page 30 of The Wrong Brother

“What exactly is happening here?” I’m not sure I meant to say that out loud but I can’t take it back now. I half expect them to jump back at my voice, look guilty, stammer around and make excuses. They do exactly none of those things. Instead, they pull their faces apart the smallest amount, looking at each other, and then they both start laughing. My brother leans in, whispering something into Catherine’s ear and she pokes him in the armpit, making him jump back, laughing harder.

“Hey, Griff. You gonna let us in or what?” He puts his arm around Catherine’s shoulders and I look between the two of them with a critical eye. Rafferty looks more at ease than I’ve seen him in a while. He’s a guy with a lot of feelings. Sometimes those feelings tend toward the dark. Lately, he’s seemed down, more closed off. I’m not the best person to figure out what’s going on there or to talk him back out of it but I do notice when he’s low. Next to Catherine, though, he’s brighter. Lighter. And Catherine seems completely different from the woman who went out with me. She was very businesslike and tense with me. Under my brother’s arm, she’s relaxed and even playful. Her blue eyes are sparkling and she has a light blush across her cheeks. Well, fuck me. I thought I was done feeling like an idiot.

“How did I not see it?” I ask them. Their reaction indicates my question was not one they anticipated.

“See what, brah?” Rafferty’s dark blond brows are wrinkled and he’s tilting his head to one side.

“You two. Together. You make sense.” I take a step back, continuing to study them like a case file. “I mean, you complement each other. Mina!” I call out, not taking my eyes off them. My petite girlfriend pops up underneath my arm, wrapping hers around my waist.

“You yelled, hot stuff?”

“Did you ever consider this match-up?” She looks up at me, probably trying to figure out if I’m mad or merely confused. “Like, this works. Why did I never think of Rafferty and Catherine? They make way more sense than Catherine and I ever did. I’m feeling all kinds of stupid standing here looking at them together—like I bombed a really obvious question on a test.” They all laugh at me and I have to fight my annoyance. I know they’re not truly laughingatme but I already feel dumb and that’s not helping.

“No, Griff, I didn’t consider it either. I see what you mean though. They do make sense.” She turns back to look at the two of them. “Sorry we made you stay standing in the hallway this whole time. You can come in. I don’t think you realize how strange and jarring it is to see the two of you, standing like that, looking so relaxed and happy.”

“If you think that’s jarring,” I tell her as we turn back to let them into her apartment, “how do you think I felt opening the door to them making out?”

“For real?” Mina looks over her shoulder, wide-eyed. Catherine looks bashful, turning her face into Rafferty’s side, but my brother merely looks happy. It’s so fucking good to see him looking happy.

“We did stop outside the door on purpose. It’s not like we intended to subject you to our kissing, Griff. Something that I seem to remember you doing to me with no shame.”

“Whatever. And that was Meens, not me. You know nobody can control that one, least of all me. Get in here. We don’t want the garlic chicken to get cold.”

Mina pulls Catherine into her kitchen, the two of them hugging and giggling. I can hear their whispers as they get dishes out but I have no idea what they’re talking about. Probably us. Or international politics. Who knows? You can never tell with the two of them, they’re intelligent and complex women. I set the food out on the table and send Rafferty to grab the beers. We sit around the table, loading up plates and chatting. There’s a lesser level of catching up than there has been previously. We’ve all seen or spoken more often than the last time we got together. It’s nice. I feel more connected knowing what everyone has been up to.

I still can’t quite get used to seeing the two of themtogethertogether. My mind is honestly still trying to catch up with me and Mina being a thing. It’s not merely that it’s the two of them, though. Something else, just out of reach, is bugging me. I’m digging into my dinner, a fork full of garlic chicken almost to my mouth when I realize what it is. I pause, looking at them.

“Everything ok over there, Griff?” my brother asks.

“I was trying to figure out what seemed off about you two, visually.”

“Are you saying we don’t look good together?” Catherine teases.

“No, no, it’s not that. It made me think about literally every woman Raff has ever dated and the fact that they were all your exact opposi—” my voice trails off. Shit. I should have thought that all the way to its conclusion before saying anything. “Um,” I scramble to recover, “they didn’t make him this comfortable, is all. I’m not used to seeing him this comfortable.” Mina and Catherine are looking at me like they’re concerned for my mental faculties. When I look at Raff his mouth tightens and he gives me a small nod. Hopefully, I didn’t reveal something he didn’t want known. Catherine speaks up before the silence stretches out awkwardly and the moment is forgotten. I hope.

We quickly veto work talk. No one wants to enjoy Friday night grindz while talking about family law, child neglect, personal training, or corporate taxes. Mina tells us about a new student in her Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu class who is frustrating her with his chauvinistic attitude. Apparently, he can’t back it up with skills to match and it pisses her off. She’s angry a lot. It’s kind of her thing. I like it though—Mina is overflowing with passion. Rafferty has been painting a bit more lately and I broach the subject of local galleries or a dedicated art social media account. He’s been reticent and it frustrates me.

“Why are you so stubborn about this? I think your work is good. I think as many people should see it as possible. I only want you to have some goals and to see you sharing your gifts, that’s all.”

He looks irritated like he usually does when I bring this up. Catherine puts her hand on his arm and I swear I can see him relax with her touch.

“Why wouldn’t you want to try something that could bring your art visibility and maybe more financial freedom?” He shrugs but she doesn’t accept it. She pulls his hand until he looks at her, her kind eyes compelling him to answer.

“I didn’t go to art school. I don’t have any credibility. I don’t want to talk to someone at a gallery and get laughed out the door.”

Catherine, to her credit, doesn’t scoff at him or jump in to disagree with him. I’ve done both of those things before and they didn’t help.

“One: I don’t think you should go into it expecting failure. Two: Griffin gave two options. If you’re not feeling up to approaching a gallery, why don’t you set up an Instagram account for your art? You don’t have to put your face on it if that makes you uncomfortable. But I’d like to go on the record saying a photo of you would probably bring people in and your talent would keep them there.”

He doesn’t look annoyed anymore. He’s smirking. “Is that a roundabout way of saying something nice about my looks?”

Catherine rolls her eyes. “Oh, I don’t have to be roundabout. You’re hot! A post with you on it would get interest. In fact, it would probably be best if you let me pick your profile photo.”

He outright laughs at that. Catherine may have magical powers. That’s more progress than I’ve made in years of trying. It’s not about the money—I think Rafferty does well enough for himself as a personal trainer. But my brother puts a lot of himself into his creative endeavors and can place too much of his personal value on how they’re received. Lately, it’s felt like my brother is drifting. He’s avoiding making goals or doing anything future-focused and he doesn’t seem to have any real connections. Even something as small as sharing his art online gets pushback. I want him to see and feel that he’s worthy of attention. I think he’s that good. I’m glad Catherine is on my side in this.

We let the subject drop, finish dinner, and move to the living room. I’m realizing that there isn’t enough room for all four of us on Mina’s couch. She has obnoxiously petite furniture, obviously picked out by my barely 5-foot-tall girlfriend. We’ve never all spent time here together before. I’m analyzing the seating, wondering how to best handle this when Rafferty fixes it for us. He stretches out in the one oversized chair, pulling Catherine down into his lap. She turns sideways, draping her legs over the arm, and tucks herself against his chest. They both look content and now Mina and I can have the couch to ourselves. I feel a little guilty because Mina is so tiny. We probably should have taken the chair. Meh. That’s on them. Maybe they’ll make better choices next time. Mina sprawls out on the couch in her favorite position, acting as a recliner for me. I don’t know why she prefers it to lying against me. I’m not going to complain about having her legs around me or her tendency to play with my hair. It’s all good.

“What should we watch?” she asks, already running her fingers along my scalp. If I was a dog I’d be shaking my leg.

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