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And then there are the boys. Antonio and Stefan.
I peer closely at Stefan as a toddler. He was a cute kid. It makes me smile to see him at the beach in his underwear with his chubby little thighs and round belly. I guess his brother has just knocked over the sandcastle he’d made because they’ve captured the moment just before the scream.
Wow. Stefan was a kid once.
I flip through more pages and it’s a whole other perspective, a peek into his life before he became what he is. There are even photos of Rafa with them.
The album ends when he’s about sixteen and I’m about to close it when Miss Millie comes into the library. She’s carrying a cup of steaming tea.
I think she’ll be angry when she sees the album, but she just smiles sadly.
“How long has it been since someone’s looked through that?” she asks, handing me the tea and taking the album from me. She sits in the chair opposite mine and opens it.
“Were you here when they were little?”
She nods, turns a few pages. When she looks up at me, her eyes are watery. “Stefan’s father, Antonio, he helped me once. He saved my life, quite literally, when most people would have walked away. Stefan was no more than a baby when I started to work for his family, and I don’t regret a single day of it.”
She stands up, puts the photo album back. “I’m going to go up to bed. Do you need anything before I go?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you, Miss Millie.”
“Goodnight, dear.”
I watch her leave and note the time, a little after ten. About fifteen minutes after she’s gone and the house seems quiet, I get up and close the library door. My heart beats a little faster as I make my way to the back of the room and pick up the phone. When I hear the dial tone, I pull the phone away to punch in the number to the clinic, keeping one eye on the door as I do.
When it starts to ring, I mentally calculate the time. It should be late afternoon. My brother likes long naps after lunch, so I keep my fingers crossed he’s awake.
A familiar voice answers the phone. “Clear Meadows, this is Melanie.”
“Hi Melanie, it’s Gabriela Marchese.”
“Oh, Gabriela, how are you?” she starts, and when she continues, her voice is strained. “Is everything all right?”
I’ve known Melanie for two years now. I’ve paid twice-weekly visits since Gabe became a patient. For me to not show up or call must have worried her.
“Yes, it’s fine. I’m okay. Just… there was an unexpected trip and I didn’t have access to a phone to call and let you know. Was Gabe very upset?” Yesterday was one of my days to visit my brother. If I could go every day, I would, but with our father essentially pretending Gabe is dead it doesn’t quite fit into his plans.
“We talked him through it,” she says kindly.
Guilt gnaws at my heart. I should have tried harder. Tried to call last night while I was home. But I was distracted, absorbed with my own problems.
“Do you think he’ll get on the phone with me now?”
“You know he doesn’t like to talk on the phone. It upsets him.”
He has a hard time understanding how a person’s voice is there when they’re not. It’s such a strange thing. A simple, heartbreaking thing.
“I know, but thing is, I’m in Sicily. And I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“Can you access FaceTime? If he can see your face—”
“No, I’m sorry. Please let me just try. I don’t have much time.”
“Sure. Hold on and let me walk down there so I can explain it to him.”
“Thanks, Melanie.”
“You’re welcome.”
It’s silent for a few minutes before she gets back on the phone and I can hear Gabe in the background. The sound of his voice makes me smile.
“Gabi! Where were you? I waited and waited, and you never came. Are you here now?”
My heart hurts and that smile vanishes as tears fill my eyes.
Fuck.
One stupid minute. One heroic decision. And this is the result. My brother trapped in the body of an adult with the mind of a child forever. My brother who is so good. Who deserves a life, a better one than this.
One stupid minute.
One act of bravery.
And this.
“Hi Gabe, it’s so good to hear your voice,” I try to keep my tone light. Try to smile so he can hear me smile. It’s somehow easier when I’m there, when I can be with him and hold his hand and see his face, even if I don’t see the man he was becoming before it happened anymore. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come.”
“You’re not here now?” He’s confused, I can hear it.
“I had to take a trip. I’m so sorry I missed our lunch. What did you have?”
