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Cameron and I drive out to our old house on Sunday. It wasn’t really something we made a plan to do when it started. We took the two-hour drive here the day Dad was sentenced, and I asked to come back at the year mark from his sentencing. We’ve been doing it ever since.
It feels weird this time since Dad’s out of prison now.
It’s ridiculous, but as Cam steers the car into our old neighborhood, my stomach grows tight with worry. Dad’s no longer behind bars. He could be waiting at the house. What would he do if he saw me again?
“You okay?” Cam asks.
“Yeah.” He asks it every time we hit the neighborhood. I’ve learned how to keep my voice steady when I answer, even when it’s a lie.
He parks the car on the curb opposite the house, and I stare at the unassuming yellow house. It wasn’t bad for most of my life. Dad was never the kind of guy who played ball with us or cared about school or if we were doing okay. But it wasn’t the open hostility it was when Cam left.
“Sometimes I think about that fight I had with Dad the night I left for UCSF,” Cam says after we let the silence settle for a while. It’s the first time he’s ever mentioned it in all the years we’ve been coming here.
“He had no right to try and stop you,” I say, remembering the way Dad had blocked the door, trying to get Cameron to stay.
“I know. But sometimes I feel like I made a mistake leaving.”
“What?” I jerk my gaze from the house to look at my brother. “Why?”
“Because of what he did to you. I should’ve stayed and made sure you were okay. I should’ve known he’d get violent and that he’d take it out on you. Dad was always just one bad day away from doing something like that.”
“Yeah, but that wasn’t your job.”
“Not in an ideal world,” Cam replies. “But in reality, I was supposed to protect you. That was my job.”
“Cam—”
“I just need you to know that I’m sorry.” He runs his fingers along the worn steering wheel. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot since Dad was released, and I should’ve stayed. No, it wasn’t my responsibility, but I should’ve done it anyway.”
“I’m not mad at you about it.”
“I know you’re not. I know you don’t resent me. What you focus on the most is the fact that I made him stop hurting you. That I took you away from it. But what I focus on is the fact that I left you to endure it in the first place.”
I stare at my brother’s profile, taking in the tension in his shoulders and the tight frown at his mouth. I’d known Cam felt guilty about what happened, but I didn’t realize it was weighing this heavily on him. I’d never once considered it to be Cam’s fault. And he’s right that what I focus on the most is the fact that Cam pulled me out of there. He took me to live with him when he didn’t have to.
And after Dad was arrested, he could’ve easily handed me over to the state when they came looking for me, but he didn’t. He helped me heal from all the bruises Dad left on me. He put me through school. He cooked dinner for me after working until seven or eight some days. And he never once complained.
As if he can read my mind, he says, “I didn’t keep you out of guilt. I didn’t even take you away from Dad because I felt guilty. I did that because I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you with him. And I knew that even if you were placed with a good family, they wouldn’t be there for you the way I would.”
I would’ve done the same thing had our roles been reversed. If I could take care of a younger sibling who needed me, there’s no way I would hand them off to strangers unless it was in their best interest.
“Cam, you know the reason I focus on the fact that you stopped Dad, that you took me away from him, is because it’s the only part of the story that matters to me. You gave up a lot to make sure I got out okay, and that’s the important part.”
He nods, and I can tell he’s listening because some of the tension eases out of his shoulders. How long has been holding onto all of that? I wish he’d talked to me about it sooner.
Cam takes a breath, and his eyes harden when he looks back toward the old house. “If he tries to hurt you again, I’ll kill him this time. I mean it, Parker.”
“I know you will.” There’s not a doubt in my mind that Cam would stand in front of a speeding train if it meant keeping me safe.
“But I also don’t think he’ll bother us,” he continues. “There’s just no reason for it. And Dad’s not a fool. He won’t stir something up with us just because. He’ll lay low for a while.”
I nod. “Yeah, I thought that too.”
Even with the other stuff that happened with Dad that I didn’t tell Cam about, it makes sense that Dad wouldn’t try to contact either one of us. But sitting here with my brother right now, I want to tell him the rest of the story. The reason why Dad started hitting me in the first place.
But when I turn back to Cameron, my voice doesn’t want to work. The words just won’t come out. Maybe there’s no need to tell him absolutely everything. It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s all over. Right now, I just want to keep moving on.
Eleven
