Page 63 of My Best Friend's Bully

ThreedaysafterJordan’sintervention between Cole and me, his words begin to sink in. The meeting hadn’t gone at all how I expected. Cole’s side of the story was never something I had been interested in hearing; until Jordan insisted we sit down and talk. And I could not have imagined the words he spoke. Could it be true? Was it actually all a misunderstanding, merely a normal sibling rivalry between two brothers trying to help each other survive the scary and dangerous years of adolescence? Was there truly no ill intent behind what Cole had done so many times over the years? Did he really only ever want tohelp me?

After our three-way, Jordan insisted she knows Cole, and whatever my suspicions of his sincerity, that she knows he is being truthful. But I’m still not sure I believe it. It seems too neat, too tidy. How convenient it would be for him to hand wave away all the damage he caused. And even more convenient to do it in front of Jordan. I can’t help but wonder if Cole is going through the same thing I am right now, reaching out to her for reassurance. I wonder if she speaks as kindly about me as she does about him.

I’m sitting in my penthouse office, my feet up on my desk as I lean back in my chair, and I haven’t done a lick of meaningful work in the past two hours. My mind is elsewhere. I pick up my phone for the hundredth time, but this time I give in and send a text to Jordan.

Me:I’m doing it again. Doubting Cole. Should be working, but my brain is just not cooperating today.

To my surprise, my phone buzzes a minute later. I expected she’d be studying at this hour.

Jordan:I have an idea. I think you should go by the hospital and talk this through with your parents. Not just your Mom, your Dad too. Let them know what’s going on, what Cole told you. See if they have anything they want to say about it.

Me:I hate the idea but you’re probably right. Ugh. I don’t want to deal with my Dad right now. Any chance I can rope you into coming with me? My parents love you. I’ll throw in an ice cream sundae to sweeten the deal.

Jordan:I’d do it for free, silly! But I can’t — have to study. We can catch up another night, okay? I have the retake for that exam tomorrow.

Me:You’re going to kill it this time. Don’t forget to set your alarm. And maybe a second alarm for good measure.

Jordan:Already done. Let me know how it goes with your parents.

Sighing, I realize the futility of trying to focus on anything work-related, so I decide to go visit mom and dad at the hospital. I peek out the windows for a weather check. The sun is setting, barely a half hour of light left in the day, and there are snow flurries in the air, so I grab my jacket on the way out and slip it on as I enter the elevator.

I stop to pick up dinner for the three of us on my way, pasta from my favorite Italian place. Mom has been surviving on hospital food for too long and it’s starting to show, deepening the hollows under her cheekbones. Plus, pasta is my dad’s favorite food. Maybe it’ll loosen him up for our conversation. Nerves tie my bowels in knots as I drive. I have no problem facing my father, but the brusque way we usually converse is not going to cut it for a talk like this. Jordan is right. I’m going to have to show some humility if I want to make any progress with my Dad.

Sleet starts to fall as I arrive at the hospital, wet drops of icy rain crashing down on my windshield. Of course I didn’t bring an umbrella. Perhaps I should consider this a bad omen and turn around now before it’s too late. I sit in my car, waiting it out for a minute, but the cold rain only comes down harder.

I take a quick video from the inside of my car to showcase the weather pounding on my windshield and attach it to a text message.

Me:It’s sleeting. Can I take this as a sign from the gods?

Jordan:Come on. You got this, Ty. Pull your hood up and get in there. I promise you’ll feel better after it’s done.

Me:No sympathy, I see. Will you be my doctor when I get frostbite?

Jordan:Inside, now!

Me:Look who’s bossy now! If you don’t hear from me in two hours, send a medic.

She’s right, I have to do this. And the longer I sit here, the harder it’ll be to force myself to go inside and face the inevitable. What am I afraid of? There’s nothing he can say to me I haven’t already said to myself. Steeling myself, I pull my hood over my head, grab the bag of food, and open the door.

Wet balls of ice pelt my head, bouncing off my hood as I run for the door. Fortunately, the ground isn’t slick yet. The automatic doors slide open as I approach the hospital entrance, and in an instant I’m safe inside the warm lobby. Gobs of slush slide off my coat and onto the carpeted entryway, and I shake the rest off before I step onto the tile floor. The last thing I need is to be responsible for some patient slipping and breaking their neck.

“Tyson?” Mom’s voice startles me. I look up from wiping my feet on the rug. “I wasn’t expecting you here tonight. Cole just left.”

“Oh, a shame I missed him.” But the quip doesn’t hit the same now, not knowing what I know. I brush my hair back off my face. “I wanted to swing by with some real food for you. You guys didn’t eat already, did you?”

“I was just heading to the cafeteria to get us some dinner.” She hugs me, making a face when the dampness of my coat meets her arms. “Your father will be thrilled to see you. Come on.”

I bite my tongue on the remark I’d normally make and follow her to Dad’s room.

“Look who stopped by,” she calls from the doorway.

Dad flips the TV off and sits up, smiling when he sees me. “Hey there, Tyson. Both my boys in the same night. What’s the occasion?”

“Just brought some dinner.” I pull the tray table away from the wall and set the food out on it. “And I wanted to talk.”

“Talk?” Mom hands Dad his bowl and takes one for herself, perching on the edge of his bed as I settle into one of the chairs. “Well, this is unexpected. What’s going on, sweetie?”

I take a few bites of meatballs, wishing I’d thought to bring a bottle of wine to go with it. “It’s about Cole. And me, I guess.”

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