Page 22 of Forever Flustered

His head shot up, his nose running from the rolling bile that was stinging his throat as he held back his vomit and tears – only to see his brother’s stricken face staring at him in awareness. Bode was at his side in a heartbeat, just like they were little children once again. It was funny how a single action or a look could knock your feet right out from under you, erasing the years and the careful walls he’d put up to protect himself.

“I’m fine,” Eli replied immediately, clearing his throat and reaching for a napkin left on his desk earlier, wiping his nose and eyes. “Just a lapse or…”

“Don’t gimme that,” Bode interrupted tersely, his voice aching and hoarse with emotion. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I had some bad chicken at lunch.”

“Bullcrap. We had meatloaf, emphasis on the ‘loaf’ – not sure that was ‘meat’,” Bode replied, his eyes searching his. “Talk to me. Was it because of me? Did I go too far?”

And Eli let out a bitter laugh that sounded more like a snort. “Don’t you always go too far… but no. It wasn’t you. It was me, getting busted on something I did a few weeks ago.”

“You sure about that?”

“I would tell you,” Eli fibbed, letting that practiced mask slip into place. “I’ve never held back before, and if it was something, I think we owe each other the truth – don’t you?”

Liar, he thought silently. You never told Bode how bad it was and always tried to protect him.

… And he always would.

Bode stayed there, kneeling beside him, looking for clues or signs that something was wrong – and once he was satisfied that there was nothing, his brother smiled at him.

“You know I’m gonna tell everyone to call you ‘Eli’ when you come visit,” his brother chuckled, teasing him. It felt good to see him smiling and happy; his whole demeanor seemed so relieved.

I love you, you nitwit – Elijah thought silently and then heard his father’s voice once more, calling him a sissy and a wimp.

“Eli might not be so bad,” he offered weakly, pausing to offer up an unexpected secret almost like another olive branch between them. “I met a girl at your wedding, and she called me ‘Eli’ too.”

“Whaaaat?”

The way his brother reared back and that snarky grin on his face, Eli couldn’t help but sheepishly laugh for a moment, hoping it would take away all the negative thoughts in his head.

“You – met a girl?” Bode teased. “Was it a real girl or a picture of one? How many beers did you have? Maybe you were imagining things, and it was like a dog, a goat, or…”

“Stop it,” Eli ordered begrudgingly, feeling extremely shy now. “It wasn’t a dog – or a goat. She was really… nice – nice but ornery,” he amended quickly before adding on. “She kind of told me off before telling me that I needed a friend.”

“She sounds smart – and perfect for you.”

“Look, Romeo…”

“Wrong pilot and call sign,” Bode interrupted, grinning. “That other guy’s kinda skinny, and his wife made our wedding cake. I’m much better looking with a hotter wife who loves flowers.”

Eli rolled his eyes and bit his tongue. Flora was ‘okay’ – but as long as she made his brother happy, that was all that mattered. Maureen was striking in a very pretty way. He wasn’t sure what made someone ‘hot,’ but maybe that was just a term some guys threw around to sound tough – which was totally Bode’s method of operation.

“What about your chick? What’s she like?”

That was such a simple question – yet Eli couldn’t answer it any other way but honestly. “I’m already trying to find out.”

Bode nodded in approval. “Be yourself, and she’ll come around.”

“Come around to what?”

“Well, she’ll either thump you right between the eyes – or hug the stuffin’ out of you because you are long overdue for a little affection and fun. Have you ever played ‘Monster’ with a child who insists that tickling someone involves raking their little fingernails on your skin? Yeah – it doesn’t tickle, but I’ll never tell Austin that. The kid’s got fingers like one of those little garden rakes you use for weeding.”

“A what?”

Bode stared at him and then burst out laughing. “You need a dose of reality or to come down to earth. I swear, how are we related? You’re stuck up, and I’m gutter trash.”

“Maybe I should be a little trashier?” he offered, and Bode laughed even harder, making Eli frown.