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The words escape me. Then all the fight in me escapes, too. My arms slacken over my chest, drooping with defeat.
I close my eyes, exhausted.
I’m running out of anger.
It’s so much effort to stay mad.
And when I can’t be angry anymore, only one other emotion rushes in, and it’s the last one I want to feel right now.
“You feel so … what?” prods my brother.
I slowly shake my head, overwhelmed. Then a strange sort of gasping starts to happen in the back of my throat.
My eyes begin to sting.
Fuck, don’t tell me I’m crying.
“Jimmy …” comes my brother’s voice softly, confirming it.
“I d-d-don’t know what the fuck to do.” Why am I letting myself cry in front of him? This is so embarrassing. “I f-fucked up. And I’ve told him sorry a thousand times, but he won’t listen, and he won’t t-t-talk to me, and now what in the FUCK am I s-s-supposed to do about the Spruce Ball?? We’re the entertainment!”
Tanner’s hand presses to my back and starts rubbing. “Don’t worry, bro. There’s a bunch of other things that can occupy the guests’ attention. The Spruce drama department is doing a thing. They’re auctioning off a bunch of nature paintings done by the afterschool art program. Even the elementary school is involved. The dance is the least of your concerns, bro.”
“B-B-But it was gonna be our thing!” I sound like a blubbering toddler whose toy just got taken away. “Bobby and me! And I just fuckin’ …” I bury my face in my hands, losing all composure and sobbing into my palms. “I ruined it.”
His arm slides all the way around me, then holds me close to him in a side-hug. Soon, my own sobs drown out anything my big brother might be saying. Every one of my limbs are limp. My lungs are crushed inward. My stomach aches with emotion. My head is a mess of despair.
Then, through all of that noise, my brother’s words touch me: “You gotta tell me what’s really goin’ on here.”
I swallow my sobs. I blink until my eyes are clear, and then all I see is the floor of the living room.
“There is somethin’ else goin’ on, right?” my brother asks.
Suddenly, I’m not making any sounds. I’m holding my breath.
“Between you and Bobby, right?” He nudges me. “He and you have been sneakin’ around all summer, holed up in your room, off doin’ this and that all the time. You’re not into drugs, are ya?”
I frown. “You know me better.”
“Yeah, I usually do, but not lately. You can tell me whatever it is,” he assures me. “And whatever the heck you tell me, you know I won’t go tellin’ mama or papa. I didn’t tell her when you were flunkin’ calculus, trustin’ you’d pick your grade right up. Or when you and what’s-his-name broke the barn door your junior year. Or all those nights you’d sneak out to hang with your friends at the arcade. We got a bro code, remember? It’s sacred.”
Bro code.
Sacred.
“I …” My voice comes out in a nasally croak. I clear my throat. “I don’t even know if … if I know what it is, yet. Or if I can even put it into words.”
“You sure?”
My whole body’s tightened up.
Why am I so petrified to say it? Where did all my confidence from this past month go?
I feel so fucking broken.
He hugs me from the side again, rubs my back, then gives it a firm, meat-slapping smack. “I won’t push you. You can come to me when you’re ready. But don’t try to do all of this alone, Jimmy. You have so many people who care about you.” He gives me a light and playful smack over the back of my head. “So don’t live in that head of yours and sulk for the rest of the summer, alright? It doesn’t have to be me, but talk to someone, alright?”
I give him a feeble, wordless nod.
After another moment of empty hugging, my brother lets me be on the couch. I listen to the clattery noise of him fussing with something in the kitchen, probably fetching something for Billy in the main house like they always do, before finally he departs with a, “I’m just a call or a short walk away, bro.”
My phone’s in my hand suddenly. I stare down at its blank screen, and the countless unanswered texts, and the countless unanswered voicemails I’ve left Bobby.
I shut my eyes, lean back on the couch, and fall the fuck to sleep right there.
When I open my eyes, I don’t know what hour it is, but the whole house is dark, even the kitchen, and there’s a blanket over me. I guess my mama must’ve found me snoring here and laid the soft, fuzzy red thing over me. There isn’t a sound in the house, not even a murmur or a whisper or a creak of a floorboard.
