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And if I have to go to therapy and have my brain analyzed because of my fucking issues, in order to do that, I will.
I’ll do anything for her.
For them.
Because I finally have something worth fighting for.
I finally have something bigger than soccer, my ambitions.
Them.
“You will.”
I clench and clench my teeth for a second or two. “Yes.”
“What changed?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It is. Because I’m not only your brother, I’m your coach. And I need to know if I can trust this sudden change of heart or not.”
“You can.”
“I still —”
“No, you don’t get to hear why or how. All you need to know, as my coach, is that I’ll do it. I’ll do my time and then I’m coming back and taking my fucking place on the team.”
He doesn’t utter a word but I can feel him grinding his teeth.
I can feel how much he hates not being obeyed.
At least there’s some satisfaction in that.
But it only lasts a few seconds before he speaks. “Fine. If you want things to be that way, it’s up to you. But now as your brother, let me tell you something: I don’t trust you. I’ve never trusted you. Not with this thing inside of you. This boiling anger, this heated rage. Your hotheadedness. And I’ve tried my very best to stamp it out of you. I’ve tried to do everything that I can to erase that from your system and get you to straighten the fuck out. And for a little while I thought that you had. I thought that you’d found something to keep your anger in check. Soccer. I thought soccer could finally fix you, make you better, make you responsible, help you to grow the fuck up so I don’t have to get a call every other day that my little brother is starting shit again. That my little brother is the bane of everyone’s existence, including mine. But apparently not. Apparently, you haven’t changed. You’re still my little brother who kept me up at night sitting by the phone expecting bad news and who fucking embarrassed the shit out of me wherever I went. And as your brother I have to tell you that I’d hoped better for you. I’d hoped that you wouldn’t still be fucking around. And as your coach, if I find out that you’re not holding up your end of the bargain or are a liability to the team, I’ll cut you loose so fast that you’d think twice about playing games with me.”
There’s a sting in my eyes.
A burn.
It’s different from my anger that’s always lurking under the surface.
It’s more devastating and painful than that.
And it’s something that I’ve only felt around him: sadness and loneliness.
“Don’t worry, Coach, the only game I intend to play is the one I was born for,” I say. “And as your brother, let me tell you that you don’t have to worry about me ever again. You’re off the hook and relieved of all your brotherly fucking duties.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
He’s sleeping.
With his arm thrown over my waist and his front molded to my back.
Or rather my back molded to his front.
He’s too hard and unforgiving to bend to someone else’s shape or will.
And if there was ever any doubt about that, it was cleared today. Especially when not only did he leave me tied up in his bed this morning, causing me to childishly decide that I’d never speak to him or look at him again, but also when he made me break that promise only a few minutes later.
I did look at him and speak to him, mostly to hurl insults and threats.
Like, “Get out of my sight, you motherfucker.”
And, “I don’t want your stupid food or your stupid meds,” when he brought breakfast and painkillers.
“I don’t need to go to the bathroom. I can hold it. Don’t show mercy on my account when we both know what a monster you are,” when he came over with the intention of untying me and letting me use the facilities.
“I pray that we never have a baby. I pray that your dick falls off.”
“If you bring that Godzilla of a thing anywhere close to my pussy, I will fuck it up.”
“If you think I’ll forget about this, then you’re wrong. Do you get that? I’ll never forget about this, Ledger. Never. And trust me, my brother will hear about this. My brother and your sister. And the cops. Because I’m dragging you to court, asshole. I’m done protecting you. You just watch and wait.”
Not once did he say anything back to me.
And yes, I ended up doing all the things that he wanted me to anyway: eat, go to the bathroom, take medication and all that.
But of course he didn’t do what I wanted him to do.
Untie me and let me go.
