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Her face scrunched up as she gave in and burrowed into his shoulder. It was strange how much bigger he was than her. It didn’t seem that long ago that he could sit on her lap. Patting her back, he looked over the top of her head at the city lights flickering through the waiting-room window.
“C’mon,” he said when her tears had slowed. “Let’s take a break and get something to eat.”
They searched out the snack bar, which at this hour offered only drinks and a limited supply of unappetizing prepackaged sandwiches and desserts. They each chose a water and some sad-looking cookies, then sat at one of the little round tables.
“So where’s Anabella?” Noah asked, more for conversation than anything else. He couldn’t really picture his brother’s girlfriend pulling an all-night hospital vigil.
His mother gave him an odd look. “They broke up months ago. Right after Christmas.”
“Oh.” It was May, for goodness’ sake. Had it really been that long since he’d spoken to his brother? “Was he... pretty upset about it?”
“Not too much. She wasn’t right for him, and I think he saw that.”
“So he did the dumping?”
Mom shrugged. “From what he told me, it was mutual. I think he was more upset about starting over than breaking up.”
Was Matt as worried about finding the right person as Noah was? Did the threat of winding up in a relationship like their parents’ scare him too? Noah ground his teeth, remembering the many texts his brother had sent after the holidays. It had felt like forced charity at the time, and Noah had pushed against it, but maybe Matt had needed a friend.
Something else to add to Noah’s list of changes to make: be a better brother.
If Matt recovered.
Mom shook her head. “You two were so close when you were little, and you used to get into so much trouble. Remember when he broke his arm?”
Noah smiled, thinking back to the summer they’d built a jump for their bikes from construction-site scraps. They’d started safe but kept making it bigger, going farther up the hill in front of their apartment to get more speed.
Matt, of course, had to be the test pilot each time they made an adjustment, and the jump had eventually grown too high and fast for him to handle. He had ended up with a broken arm, and Noah had been grounded from his bike for as long as Matt’s arm was casted. At the time, he’d considered it terribly unfair—after all, the broken arm and the idea for the jump were both Matt’s. Mom hadn’t agreed with his reasoning, but she had allowed them to loaf in front of the TV more than usual until Matt’s hard cast was on. After that she’d sent them back outside. Noah could still remember the pungent smell of the cast when it was removed after weeks of boyhood summer escapades.
How long had it been since he and Matt had done anything fun together?
Too long.
And now...
“How old were we?” he asked.
Mom fiddled with the lid of her water bottle. “I think he was thirteen, so you would have been eleven.”
Those had been good days.
And then Dad died.
After that everything had changed. Dad had worked when he was sober, but even with his sporadic contributions, they’d only been scraping by. After his death, Mom had taken a second job, which meant she was no longer home in the afternoons when school let out. It was almost like they’d lost both parents.
Summers were worse, the boys left to their own devices all day. She’d done her best—Noah had to give her that—and maybe if things had been different, he and his brother would have grown closer. As it was, with the removal of their primary source of fear and embarrassment and the absence of their mom to draw them together, they’d grown apart.
Matt was two years bigger, stronger, faster, smarter—and he’d made sure Noah never forgot it. At home, Matt had taken on a fathering role that Noah resented. Matt was always telling him what to do, empowered by their mom’s words:“You’re the oldest, Matt. You’re in charge.”Noah could never see how she’d thought those two short years made Matt the responsible one. If anything, he was the one who usually got them into trouble. Noah was more reserved, less of a risk-taker, although Matt had frequently teased him for his caution.
At least he could escape Matt’s influence at school. On the odd years that they were in the same school, Matt had mostly ignored Noah—an infinitely better treatment than the few instances when he had made a fool of Noah in front of his friends.
There was less conflict once Matt had left for college, but then they’d both gone their own ways, seeing each other only briefly on holidays ever since. They’d kept in touch, but it was all superficial. The unwritten rule was that the Jennings family didn’t talk about the hard things—Dad’s alcohol, his death, the collateral damage they’d all suffered. Mom took comfort in her worrying, Matt overachieved, and Noah flew under the radar. It was easier that way for everyone.
Noah’s teenage isolation had convinced his mom to find him a therapist. He had jumped through the hoops, opening up just enough to his therapist to assure everyone that he wasjust fine.
“He worries about you, you know.” Mom broke into Noah’s thoughts. Her water was nearly gone.
“Me? Why?”
