Page 43 of The Wrong Brother

Catherine keeps her head against my chest, her hand running up and down my side. The contact, her skin sliding over mine, grounds me in the moment. I take a deep, cleansing breath.

“I got suspended for fighting. It was clear-cut. I knew the rules. But without the team I floundered. I didn’t have friends outside of you guys and my teammates. The guys didn’t cut me off but between school, practice, races, and workouts, they didn’t have time. There were a lot of things, mental things, bearing down on me. It was…a dark time.”

“But I remember you working out with my Dad around that time. Weightlifting and stuff. That wasn’t for paddling?”

“No.”

Am I going to do this?

Am I going to talk to Catherine about what really happened?

What if she looks at me differently?

What if this ends?

I can feel my heart speeding up. I’m fighting against the instinct for rapid, shallow breathing, arms tensing to try to control the trembling before it starts. Catherine turns around in my lap, straddling me, and places her soft hands on either side of my face.

“Raff?” She strokes the tips of her fingers lightly over my cheekbones, bringing my attention to her. “Look at me. Focus on me.” Her voice is light. Kind. “It’s just you and me. Right here.”

I focus on the sensation of her fingers on my face. The weight of her body on mine. The feeling of my lungs slowly filling with air and slowly deflating. No rush, only slow, even breaths.

“That’s better. Breathe deeply.” She rests her forehead against mine, sharing my breath, keeping me steady.

“I got depressed,” I whisper. “Like, deep clinical depression. It certainly wasn’t the last time but as the first, it was the worst. I didn’t understand what was happening. I didn’t know it was something I’d always struggle against. I was alone and I felt like I had derailed my entire life for—” I can’t finish that thought. It’s not her fault and I’ll never put that on her. I’ve worked through this ad nauseam. Ultimately, I didn’t throw away my future for a girl who’d never seen me. I had to rethink my plans as the result of doing something I felt completely convicted needed to happen. Whether or not Catherine ever knew or saw me, he shouldn’t have treated her that way and I couldn’t have let it go. That’s not who I am.

“After that, the panic attacks started. There were times I thought I was dying—like I was having a heart attack. Your dad helped me. A lot. My parents took me to a therapist, we found medication that helped, and your dad took me under his wing. We started lifting weights together. Exercise helps me. It keeps my mind clear. It helps me focus. It gets me out of my head. It can bring me down when my body is pumping excess adrenaline I don’t need or want. Eventually, I felt more human but it wasn’t a quick fix. And the change in my direction, the hurdles that kept popping up, kept things…difficult. When I was eligible to join the team again, I couldn’t. Mentally and physically, I just couldn’t. I lost my spot and that was that. Without the team, the scholarship options were no longer there. I was never as good in school as Griffin. I stayed on island but couldn’t afford college. So I worked and got the necessary certificates to be a physical trainer.” I keep my eyes closed, my forehead pressed to hers.

“I don’t have a lot to show for myself. I still struggle with anxiety and depression. I always will. I’m the guy that spent his high school years on meds, seeing a therapist, and hiding from everyone. The guy that didn’t go to college. The guy who still struggles to keep his emotions in check. None of these are things that I talk about. It’s not fun. Not for me and not for anyone that has to listen to it.” I shrug. There’s more but this was bad enough. I can’t go there. That would change how she sees me and this was likely already too much.

There’s a lone tear rolling down the side of Catherine’s nose. She presses her lips to mine, the salty droplet gliding over her lips and settling between us. The touch is tender and sweet.

“I’m so sorry, Raff.” She kisses me again and brings her eyes to mine. “I’m sorry that the very thing that made my life so much better made yours worse. I wish I could go back and stop you from doing it. Your words meant enough to me. Makani wasn’t worth it.”

“But you were.” She inhales sharply and I smooth my hands over her cheeks. “It was never about him. And if I went back I’d still do the same thing.”

This time I kiss her. And she kisses me back. The exchange knits together broken pieces of me that had felt permanently irreparable. Those jagged edges are smoothed with her touch and I breathe more easily than I have in a long, long time.

26

catherine

I have a feeling of power that is entirely unfamiliar and a little scary. There’s a part of Rafferty, a part he shared, that’s mine alone. That’s a lot of responsibility. He said it didn’t matter, that he wouldn’t change anything, but I feel a lot of guilt. The things gangly, awkward, teenage Rafferty said helped change my perspective. I gained this new sense of peace about who I was and the things I was interested in. I still had my moments, but after that I tried to be proud of my academic interests and abilities. It knots my stomach up to think what that cost him. It also makes me a bit angry that it was kept from me. Mom’s reaction when I mentioned paddling indicates she knew what was going on but they let me be oblivious. What’s done is done, there’s no use dwelling on it, but I’m embarrassed that I didn’t see him back then when he saw me so clearly.

There are still small things that are bothering me. At least one big thing he glossed over as well as little details that aren’t adding up that I never thought to question before. It’s like the faint trace of a missed task, floating by on the outer reaches of my memory, the phantom sensation of “what did I forget?” I don’t like leaving things undone. I don’t like missing things. Even while there are smaller facets that are currently out of my reach, they come with the knowledge that the niggling feeling is there because Rafferty is still hiding something. I’m not mad at him for it. He doesn’t open up to people easily. I am worried about him, though. Tt makes my heart ache that he feels like he needs to keep so much locked up. I want him to feel safe with me. I want him tobesafe with me.

I briefly consider asking Mina or Griffin some questions, comparing the information we’ve been given, but I’m afraid asking will cause them to notice the discrepancies too. I don’t want to rat him out, I merely want to figure out how I can help. I can be sneaky. Ease him into it. I don’t have to know everything to be here for him. There. This is more like it. I’m back on familiar ground—making plans and seeing things through is my jam.

Rafferty’s load of laundry with our swimsuits is dry and I can see the wheels turning as he tries to figure out what to do with it. Time for step one.

“Why don’t I switch over the laundry while you grab that suitcase out of your trunk?” His eyes widen. I don’t want him scrambling for an answer or feeling pressed to lie to me. “I’m assuming that’s how you get your clothes back and forth to the laundromat, ya? Bring it up here and stick it in the living room. We can have a folding party.”

He looks relieved and more details fall into place for me. I dump the dry laundry onto my couch and move the bedding over to the dryer. Might as well go ahead and wash my own clothes as well. We fold clothes and talk about the books we’re reading, sitting close. Once everything is stacked neatly in the luggage he zips it up and I roll it back to my bedroom, placing it under the bench at the foot of my bed.

“Now it’s out of the way and I don’t have to worry about stubbing my toe or tripping over it.” That’s lame but no more so than him saying he uses a suitcase as a laundry basket. He lets it be. “Which room has the best light?” I ask him. Ever the artist, he doesn’t question my motives but answers honestly.

“Your bedroom light is nice. Soft but abundant. Out here is good too with the front wall of windows, but it can be harsher, brighter.”

“Which is better though? Like, which would you gravitate towards?”

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