Page 51 of The Wrong Brother

“Raff has a late client on Tuesday. If I could be home by 7, I could make it work.”

“Perfect! Take photos, the best you can, of his paintings. I’ll text you our address. Come by on Tuesday and we’ll help you get everything set up. We can even do a search and figure out some hashtags and stuff.”

“That’s exactly what I needed. Thank you so much for doing this! I appreciate it and can’t wait to surprise Raff.”

“Fo sho! And once that’s done we can have you guys out here, together.” Ka‘eo grins.

“Great idea, babe!” Norah leans against him to be in the frame. “It was nice to meet you, Catherine. See you Tuesday.”

I crawl back into bed, excited about Tuesday and the fact that I get to be the big spoon. Rafferty shakes me awake sometime later, his face tight.

“Griff texted. He said he’s at Queens Hospital and Mina is in surgery.”

1 “Friends in Training” a free short story

31

rafferty

No one could have predicted the way our perfect Sunday would end. I assumed surfing, showering, and our naked activities would be followed by a good nap and a cozy evening in. Maybe reading to each other. Cooking together. Ignoring my worry about that regularly mentioned friendship boundary. Watching tv. Griffin’s text changed all of that.

He and Mina went to help someone in need but it ended up being a ploy by this guy who has been stalking her. It all went to shit fast. Griffin is a mess. The guy broke Mina’s arm before Griffin jumped him and held him down until the cops arrived to arrest him. Mina had to have surgery on her arm because the bones were exposed. She also has deep bruising on her throat and a fractured eye socket. We got to peek in and see her briefly but she was unconscious. I’m not sure that’s how my brother would have wanted to let the families know he and Mina are together but, in terms of avoiding drama, no one made a big deal about the nurse talking to “Mina Brookner’s boyfriend” when we were all worried about how she was doing. I’m sure after we spent the afternoon holding hands with Catherine crying into my chest, our parents probably suspect something is going on with us too. It doesn’t matter.

We stayed at the hospital until Mina was out of surgery and resting in her own room. Once we knew she was going to be ok, Griffin insisted we all go home. There wasn’t any reason for us to still be sitting in the waiting room, it made sense. But I am a little worried about my brother taking too much on. I could see him staying by her side, not eating or sleeping or showering until he breaks. Neither of them is prepared for this situation. Mina never lets herself be vulnerable. She doesn’t like to need anyone. And once Griffin commits to something, he is all in. I hope they give each other a chance to be good for each other without imploding.

Catherine is emotionally exhausted and I’m not far off. The guilt I feel for misreading that guy and not seeing him as a serious threat is eating at me. Catherine chewed her nails down to the quick at the hospital and she’s sore from being hunched over, her muscles tensed for so long. We eat spam musubi we grabbed on the way back, too tired to deal with a full meal. She changes into one of her cute tank top pajama sets and collapses on the bed. I intended to stretch out next to her with the book we’ve been reading but we end up wrapped up in each other, making love tenderly. It’s slow and comforting. Kiss Therapy plus some.

I’m completely lost here. The lines haven’t been blurred, they’ve been washed away, like footprints on the shoreline. I want every part of her and she already has all of me, whether she knows it or not. We’re living together. We’ve stopped talking about the fucking engagement party in a couple of weeks. Everything about this situation screams “REAL RELATIONSHIP” but, no matter how trustworthy Catherine is, I can’t seem to trust that what I’m feeling and what is happening are the same.

The only positive from this whirlpool of conflicting emotions inside of me is the creative output. I’ve been painting more than ever. I can’t seem to get the ideas on canvas fast enough. The corner of the bedroom that Catherine set up for me is very conducive to work. The afternoon light is warm and the space is comfortable. Sometimes I paint from memory, sometimes I use a photo as inspiration, and lately, I’ve also been using Catherine quite a bit. Not that she’s sat and modeled for me. It’s nothing that formal but she inspires me. It’s never literal. But I keep trying to capture the way I feel when I look at her, what I feel when I’m with her. Panels that start with the curve of her back, the line of her neck, or cascading golden waves. Then I go from there, working out from the one literal place towards the emotional landscape. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever done before. I don’t see how anyone but me could ever understand or like them, but the process is too meaningful for me to want to stop.

Tuesday night I work late and Catherine has something on the windward side. Wednesday we go to Ala Moana together. She hasn’t shown me what she purchased for the engagement activities but I have gotten a peek at the fabric of the dress hanging in her closet. I was worried I wouldn’t look good on her arm. She’s bound to be stunning in that silky peach dress, I need to look good enough to be seen with her. So now here we are, shopping for me.

First, we go to a surf shop and I get a pair of nice, charcoal submersibles. I don’t know if they’re popular elsewhere but here they’re a big thing. They’re flat-front shorts but the fabric is waterproof. You can swim in them and they look a lot nicer than regular board shorts. Catherine says they’ll be perfect for the boat. I’m sure they’ll be nice to have afterward too. I don’t want to be wasteful.

She takes me to a nicer store to get clothes for the dinner. It’s much pricier than the places I usually shop but it’s worth the money if it helps Catherine. I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to clothes. I spend most of my time in some form of workout gear. Catherine takes the lead with the salesgirl and from the get-go it feels off. Weird vibes. We’re holding hands, Catherine is talking, but the woman has her body angled towards me and talks like Catherine isn’t there.

“He needs a nicer shirt. Short sleeves are good, not too casual, and nothing in wild prints. Something in green would be good.”

“That would look so good with your eyes,” the woman purrs, looking at me. I look down at Catherine, confused.

“So…if you could show us the shirts, we’d appreciate it,” Catherine says, trying to pull the woman’s attention back to her.

She turns and beckons us to follow her, a cloud of perfume pouring off of her, hips swaying in an exaggerated fashion. I raise my eyebrows at Catherine and she shrugs her shoulders. Once we’re directed to the shirts, Catherine finds a couple of options she likes and hands them to me. The salesgirl keeps holding shirts up to me, finding excuses to touch me. She’s making me incredibly uncomfortable but it feels weird to say anything. I’d rather try to keep my distance than have to address it directly.

“Alright, now we need pants, please. Something with an athletic cut is preferable, not too light in color. Maybe grey?” It takes Catherine repeating herself before we’re taken over to the pants. Again, Catherine looks through and finds two pairs for me to try. Trina, as her name tag says, holds a pair of khakis up to my back and grabs my ass. I grit my teeth, step away quickly, and ask for a fitting room. Catherine waits outside. I think most stores frown on co-ed try-ons and we both know I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself if she’s in there with me. The first pair of pants are too tight on my quads. It’s uncomfortable to move. The second pair fit well though and Catherine approves. I have similar issues with the shirts. I open the curtain and show her the problem.

“The sleeves are way too tight and the buttons are pulling.” She smoothes her hands across my chest, the touches settling in my gut like the warmth after a sip of good whiskey.

“I like this fabric. The green is the same color as your eyes and it will look nice with my dress. Do you want me to see if the next size up is more accommodating for your sexy muscles?” She slips her fingers inside the open neck, tracing my collarbone.

“If you like this one then, yes. I’ll wait in here.” I take the smaller shirt off and lean against the wall, waiting. The curtain slides open but instead of Catherine, it’s Trina, the salesgirl. “The fuck?” I manage to get out. She slides her hands up my chest, making the warmth Catherine gave me turn to ice.

“Why don’t you ditch the frump and meet me after I get off? We could have a lot of fun together.”

I don’t even bother to answer her. I push past her, marching across the store in bare feet, shirtless. I know I’m getting looks from the more upscale patrons but I don’t give a fuck. I can barely breathe, choking on my anger like it’s a physical object lodged in my throat. There’s an older woman behind the register with a “boss”air about her. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down.

“Are you in charge here?”

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