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I turned and headed for the front door, expecting that he would follow. I was, after all, the one with the keys. Michael trailed behind me as I left the house, and as polite as ever, he closed the front door behind us. I headed to the only car I didn't recognize in the driveway, a newer model silver sedan. I got into the driver's seat and pulled the seatbelt across my chest as Michael got in next to me. I put the key into the ignition and cranked the car, letting it rumble to life. Michael didn't say anything as I backed out and turned, heading for the road. An awkward tension filled the air as I waited. I wasn't the one who wanted to talk and therefore, I wasn't going to be the one to start it. I would wait forhim.
After several moments stewing in the tense silence, Michael finally cracked. "Harlow," he started, "I want you to know that I didn't come here to tell you how to live yourlife."
"No?" I put my blinker on and made a lanechange.
He shook his head. "No, but I am worried aboutyou."
"Oh, you are, are you?" I sighed. "The same kind of worried you were six months ago?" Iasked.
"Six months ago?" Confusion colored histone.
I nodded. "Yes, when Mom and I were being evicted. Or is this the worried you were when I had to get a full-time job to support us? When I was all alone in the world and you were up in NewYork?"
"I was getting my degree," he said sharply—defensively. "I was getting a job, I was learning how tosurvive."
"I know. So was I. Guess what," I said, chancing a glance his way. "We both learned how to survive. I just don't judge you for the way that youlearned."
"Harlow, that's not—” He paused, obviously struggling. “I'm not..." he tried again, trailingoff.
"Go ahead and say what you want to say," I said helpfully when he couldn't seem to get the sentence out. I had no doubt that he was simply trying to word what he wanted to say in a way that wouldn't offend me. I was going to be angry either way, or rather, I was already angry, so it truly didn't matter how he saidit.
"I'm worried about those boys you live with—those men. Harlow, it's not normal. I honestly didn't know what to think or believe when I got an email from that woman, from Teddi. She has a detailed report on your activities these last few months and, to be honest, it really concernsme."
"You didn't know what to think?” I ask. “You didn’t think 'hmmm, my sister might have a stalker, maybe I should report this to the police?’Interesting..."
"Harlow, I'm being serious." Michael grunted as I flipped the blinker and veered into the next lane ratherquickly.
"So am I," I snapped, feeling the burning fire of my hurt raginginside.
"You're being a child," heaccused.
"No," I said, turning to look at him as I slowed the car in front of a stop sign. "I'm being a fucking adult, like I've had to be ever since youleft."
"Don't blame me for leaving," he said. "If you want someone to blame then you can blameMom."
"She was sick," I hissed. "And you knewthat."
“Shekicked meout,” he replied. “I didn’t leave of my own volition. Don’t blame me for something I couldn’t control. She wasabusive.”
I nodded. "Yeah, I know. I had to live with that abuse for several more years. I know just how abusive she could be and I know how she’s changedtoo.”
Silence descended and Michael, who'd turned to meet my gaze, sat back against his seat as I flicked the blinker once more and made theturn.
“I don’t care how she’s changed,” hesnapped.
“Of course you don’t. It’s why you haven’t been answering my phone calls. It’s why as soon as I told you I was doing okay for the first time in my life, you dropped off the face of the Earth. You only stuck around on the outskirts of my life—as a phone call here and there, a letter in the mail, a cheap birthday present—because ofguilt.”
A sharp shocked pause manifested and then just as quickly as it had risen, it fell. "I want you to move out of that house,” Michael said. “That’s why I came downhere.”
"There it is," I said with a shake of my head. "That’s why you’re really here. You want to take away what I’ve managed to do for myself. Well, why don’t you use that college degree of yours, Michael, and read my fucking lips for the answer?No."
"Harlow, think about it. What will people think? What will they say? How are you going to get a job in the future? Have you even thought about going to school?" He shifted in his seat, facing me fully with his chest turned. “If you move to New York with me, I could helpyou.”
“Oh, now you want me?” I scoffed. "I don't care what people think or say about where I live, Michael. It's none of their business. How about you do me a favor, hmmm?" I sucked in a breath before continuing. "Why don't you explain something to me. Why is my absentee brother suddenly showing up on my doorstep after disappearing for severalyears?"
"You knew where I was," he said. "We stilltalked."
"Up until a few months ago," I snapped. "What did I just say? As soon as you got the go-ahead that you didn’t need to feel guilty anymore, you disappeared." I looked at him. "Do you know how badly I wanted to be you?" I asked. "I wished that I had the nerve you had to leave. I wished that I could be free. I was scared and alone and you weren't around. Not only did I never see you because you moved several states away, but you stopped calling, you stopped returning my calls, stopped texting me. My life exploded andwhere. Were.You?"
