Roger was exhausted. He’d not slept a wink since returning from David’s home. He’d hoped that Rebecca would be awake, as he wanted to… Well, he wasn’t sure what he wanted. No, that was a lie. He’d wanted to be with her, talk with her, tell her what happened, what he’d realized about what he wanted his life to be.
Funny that. He was six and thirty, and one would’ve thought he’d have figured such out a great deal earlier, especially considering how quick a learner he was supposed to be. But he was the youngest child in the family and had been considered a “late bloomer,” as a child, not shooting up in height until well after he’d been called to the Torah for the first time, so here he was.
And for the first time in a long time, he was truly excited about his future, despite the fact it no longer included everything he’d thought he wanted. He had wanted to share that with someone.
With her.
Except he hadn’t. He hadn’t spoken with anyone, not even Lopez, who dressed him for minyan just prior to sunrise.
The service had been agreeable and the greetings warm and the sun was finally out, which improved his mood. At least until he passed Rebecca’s finished house and recalled that she’d be returning that day, and he couldn’t rejoice, notwithstanding the knowledge that such was the right and natural occurrence.
Perhaps he could feel better if he somehow found the right wordsto tell her how much he appreciated her and how she’d played no small part in well, changing—no, transforming—him. Perhaps if she could understand that, if he could explain correctly…
Which he could do. He was still clever. He certainly knew a great deal of words and had never had trouble communicating in the past. Perhaps it’d come to him at breakfast, he thought as he climbed his front steps.
Lopez opened the door, taking his hat and coat. Dusting off his trousers, Roger stepped into the front hall and halted as he spied his brother leaning against the wall, waiting for him.
“Good morning,” David greeted him, though without a smile.
Roger grimaced.
“Good morning,” he returned. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Not that he couldn’t guess. David was almost certainly going to scold him regarding his behavior the night prior. After all, while his brother had his doubts about the marriage, the ending of the negotiations had consequences for the entire family.
Something he’d mitigate. That his brother could not trust him to behave responsibly was irritating to say the least. Had he not proven himself time and time again?
“We have matters to discuss,” David said.
“We do,” Roger returned. “Shall we retire to the burgundy parlor,” he stated more than asked, leading the way.
They each sat for a moment, neither speaking.
Roger raised a palm. “Before you say anything, I want you to know, I already sent gifts to the Teres household as an apology. I’ve also begun to set the groundwork in the community for a story about how the match was considered but abandoned over the fact I decided that I didn’t want to produce more children,” he explained to his brother, reciting the plan he’d come up with sometime in the middle of the night.
David blinked at him, clearly surprised. “That’s… generous of you,” he said.
“I don’t want my actions negatively affecting you or Nina or your children or the rest of the family,” Roger reassured him. “I’m not like Louis,” he couldn’t help but add.
His brother frowned. “Naturally. Why would I ever… ?” The wrinkles on his brow deepened.
“His actions—his rebellion even, or whatever you want to call it—hurt Mother and Father,” Roger reminded him, bitterness coming into his voice at the memories of the aftermath of Louis’s deeds—the sneaking out, the brawling, the dangerous company, the blasted stupidity. The fracturing of his family.
Yes, he understood rationally that his father was already dying when they sent him and Louis off to school and that his mother would’ve probably retired to the countryside with their older sister for her final years anyway, but Louis’s actions had made it all so much worse.
Furthermore, he had never been able to, well, compensate.
And never would, it seemed.
“He did,” David conceded. “But they… Louis’s situation is complicated,” he said finally. “I hope you didn’t believe that you needed to recompense for his deeds? That such was your responsibility?” He peered at Roger and his eyes grew wide. “You did, didn’t you?” his brother stated, wonder nearly overtaking his voice. “My god,” he gasped. “That’s why you’ve always managed to make yourself so unhappy.”
“I wasn’t unhappy,” Roger protested.
David raised a brow.
“Not most of the time,” he amended. “Besides, the idea of not being what I…” He shook his head. “Of not being what the community, what Lucy, what the family wanted. I couldn’t do that to you. Iowed you. I needed to protect—” And he gasped. “I was protecting myself,” Roger admitted, the truth of the situation washing over him. “I was afraid.”
“Afraid?” His brother repeated the word.
“Of what people would say. That they would presume I was incapable of achieving what our father achieved despite the money, status, and privilege.” He took a deep breath. “That I was another disappointment.”
