He nodded. “It’s all virtual because I’m never in the same place for long, but yeah, I’ve been talking to someone for a long time. You weren’t the only one who was angry. And you weren’t the only one who felt like your childhood had been stolen from you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest. I guess I thought you wouldn’t understand. And I figured you’d take it personally and assume I was telling you to get help, too.”
I sighed. He was probably right. The old me would have been defensive. He would have seen John’s decision to get well meant I was complacent or lazy for not wanting the same thing. My own thought processes were so warped sometimes. That had been something I was actively learning. I’d been so conditioned for so long to accept blame from my father but project it onto others like he did in adulthood.
I still couldn’t riddle it all out, but I had faith that I would eventually.
“This girl,” John said with a sly smile, “did you get her back?”
I grinned. “Maybe.”
He laughed. “Tell me about her.”
“She’s… she’s… shit, I don’t even know where to start. She’s the one I told you about last time.”
“Your assistant?”
I nodded. “She’s relentless. She doesn’t give up on people, John. Even when you give her every reason to walk away, she can forgive you. It’s a total one-eighty from what I’m used to. She’s making me a better man. I want to be the right guy for her. She deserves everything and then some. So long as she’ll have me, I’ll do everything I can to make sure she has that.”
“My little brother, in love?” John mused.
Love?
I hadn’t said I loved her, had I? No, I didn’t think so. But the word didn’t sound foreign. The last time I’d told someone I loved them was my ex-wife. I’d kissed her while she lay in bed one morning before I went to work. I’d made her coffee and brought it to her. She thanked me and wished me a good day at work, and when I came home two hours later because I forgot some files, I’d found her and my best friend naked and tangled up in each other.
After that day I never thought I’d love again.
But John was right.
I was falling for Gabi.
“I’m happy for you, little brother,” John said.
“Thanks, man.”
He tossed his napkin into his pastry bag and crumpled them up. “Listen, I didn’t just come to see you because I was in the neighborhood. I came to bury the hatchet.”
“Oh?”
He sighed heavily. “I should have said this to you a long time ago, but I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you the way an older brother should have been when we were kids. Mom had our backs up until she left, but once she was gone and it was just us against him, I let you down. I was so angry all the time. I couldn’t understand why she’d abandon us like that. I hated her for what she did to us. I hated that she didn’t take us with her and that she left us with the man she knew was hurting us. But now that I’m older and I’ve been working through this stuff for six years, I can see that she had it so much worse than we did and her life was in danger. She had to leave. It was never about us. She had to have faith that we would get out when we could too, and we did.”
I felt an ache in my chest at the mention of our mother. “I miss her.”
“Me too.”
“Have you ever tried to find her?”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t think I want to.”
“Me neither.”
He nodded, and we were both quiet for a time. The wound she’d left by leaving us cut deep. I had reached a point like John where I understood, but I wasn’t sure I could forgive. Not fully. And if I could? Well, maybe I’d cross that bridge when I got to it.
I studied my brother. He looked more like our father than I did, and he always had. He had the same wide nose and hooded brow. He looked like a rancher, strong, thick chested, with big hands and thick forearms. I looked more like our mother, with her dark angled features and less bulky frame. I was strong, but I’d lost a lot of the bulk I had from working on the ranch as a teenager and young man.
“I’m sorry too, John. For everything.”