Page 41 of Thanking Her Brother's Best Friends

The shopkeeper insisted on it being a gift, and I insisted on telling her that I'd visit her again and again, but only if she let me pay. A bit of back and forth later, she did let me pay for the pretty bracelet.

We browsed through specialty food shops, tasting local cheeses, freshly baked pretzels, and God knew what else. In between, I asked Ben about his married life again because I kept noticing he pushed it to the background.

This time, he shrugged.

"It's going okay. Abigail doesn't like it if I spend too much time with the boys. But we're married now, so that is legitimate."

"You literally meet them once a week on Saturdays."

"I mean, it's the weekend and she'd like for the two of us to spend it together."

"Why don't you take her along? The guys seem like good fun."

I almost immediately regretted saying this, because I didn’t want him to know I've been in touch with them. Ben had something I liked to call the big-bro radar. He instinctively understood when trouble was headed my way, especially if I was calling it myself.

He was one of the few people who'd warned me about Dave, saying he was tooflamboyantto make for a good marriage partner. I had refused to listen. He was right, of course, but his feelings toward Dave changed when we got married.

This had less to do with Dave becoming a good person and more with my brother's view of marriage as the epitome of all things sacred.

"Have you been in touch with them?" he asked me delicately.

"Not really," I replied, almost a little too quickly. "But Aiden dropped by my shop a few days back and gave me some great ideas for work. He seemed changed from the little ruffian he was in school."

Ben laughed in response. "Aye, he has grown up. All of them have matured in their own ways. Be careful around Aiden, though."

I could sense that a lecture was incoming.

"We didn't really talk all that much."

Because last time, we were way too busy doing other things.

"Nah, it's not that. Aiden was in a very serious relationship with a girl from his college days. She broke up with him, and it left him pretty torn. He's not... he kind of made up his mind then and there that he wouldn't do relationships any longer. He got used to seeing women differently. And I'm not saying that's a bad thing. Far as I know, he's pretty open with them, doesn't give them any false expectations or anything. But he's not the kind of guy you want around in the long run."

I considered his words. I understood a lot of what he meant to say, but I couldn't help thinking that for my brother, relationships only made sense when they headed in a specific direction.

There had to be an order—dating, courtship, marriage, children, death. God forbid something happened that disturbed this order. He considered it a break from the norm and it upset him.

He was a wonderful human being, but sometimes, I couldn't relate to this one-direction way of thinking.

Yes, all natural things had to have a progression. But sometimes, the manner of their progress would be indeterminate, no matter how hard we tried to define things.

I missed childhood Ben sometimes. Back then, he was so cute and had such chubby cheeks. I'd stuff his mouth with candies just to see how many would fit. He was a darling child, always hanging around me even as our siblings grew up.

He awakened a tenderness in me that no one else in my family could.

And it was wonderful because a time came when he filled the need I had to love someone in my family and alsolikethem.

Ben could be stern on occasion. He was frugal and hated wasting food.

Once, I was dawdling over my breakfast and asked him to make me another bowl of porridge. He responded by telling me he'd do it only if I ate every last drop before school.

Halfway through my second bowl, I gave up and looked at him with big, sad eyes. And he told me he'd let me off the hook, but next time, I'd wear my breakfast all the way to school. I took him seriously—Ben wasn't a funny guy, not even then.

"Remember when Mom would take us on the ferry to Nantasket Beach?"

"Oh, I'll never forget it," he replied, smiling wide. "It was a semblance of a normal family life, for all of us."

"I loved it. I loved going to Hull and getting on the Paragon Carousel. I still remember the cotton candy and how it used to put you into a sugar-induced state of silence. You'd cry on the carousel, you know?" I chuckled.

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