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I skulked off to the guest room. Safe inside my temporary sanctuary from squalor, I heard the muffled sounds of Sylvester rounding up the guests and trying to get them out of his front door. It sounded like a mean feat. I lay down on top of the guest bed, realizing it could take some time. Then I climbed under the covers when the air conditioning made the room a bit too chilly for being stationary.
I relaxed there, comforted by being in the vicinity of one of my brothers. And by not being in my own empty apartment. And the thought that I’d had the good sense to seek help. And that help was coming – in the form of a half-naked Sylvester throwing the guests of his ‘not orgy’ out of the flat for me.
Before I realized what was happening, I’d fallen into the most peaceful sleep I’d had in days.
When I awoke and stumbled out of the room, it was light outside and Sylvester was cooking breakfast in his boxers. “Jesus, Sylv.”
He turned around and grinned at me. “Don’t worry your little head. I’ll put a robe on for the prude.”
I rubbed my eyes, grumbling. “Have you heard of clothes?”
He lunged for the robe hung on the hook by the front door, pulling it around himself. “Who wears clothing bychoice?”
I didn’t like the implication that the robe was kept by the door because he only wore it for public appearance. The idea of Sylvester swanning around nude in his own place troubled me. Maybe I was a prude. “Literally everyone.”
Sylvester shook his head, smiling at me like I was a baby or puppy. “Bless your heart.”
I sat down and waited for him to finish cooking. He presented me with a plate of bacon and eggs, grinning like a proud mother. I accepted the plate somewhat ungratefully.
Sylvester sat and began heartily digging into his breakfast. “You seemed like you needed the rest. Started getting those dark circles around your eyes again. I’m the only Brock who can pull off eyeliner. Sorry not sorry.”
I prodded moodily at my eggs with a fork. “Ha ha.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, then?” Sylvester remained steadfastly chipper, but I could tell his façade was stretching thin, struggling to mask his deep concern.
I shrugged. “Wasn’t sure where else to go.”
“Do you want to... talk about it?”
“No.”
“Was there anything you actually needed from me?”
“No.”
“Just a place to hide out, then?”
“Sure.”
“Splendid. I’m much better at hosting an escapism retreat than I am at hosting a feelings parade. Though, if you do need a feelings parade...” He dropped his voice a little, taking some of the frivolity out of it. “...Do let me know. I’ll be happy to talk.”
I clapped him on the shoulder with little energy, hoping the gesture of gratitude made itself known, regardless. “Thanks, Sylv.”
“Just to check. You chose me over Winston and Jude? You didn’t turn up to theirs first?”
I frowned in confusion. “Yeah, I came here first. Why?”
“No reason.” Sylvester stood up looking pleased as punch and dumped his already-empty plate in the sink, whistling and quietly singing a little song that sounded like: “Best brother, best brother, ooh I’m the best of all the brothers.”
I smiled, despite myself. “I don’t think that one’ll be a hit, Sylv.”
He whirled around his apartment getting himself ready for the day ahead, I supposed, although there was little routine to his ambling capers.
When he’d managed to get himself decently dressed, he joined me again at the breakfast table. “I’m calling in sick to work!”
I stared at him. “You’re the CEO. You can do what you want.”
“C’mon, Forest. It’s agesture.”
