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“He might not realize what he’s doing to you because his mind is somewhere else right now.”
“I guess so, but it still hurts. He’s the person I’ve always talked to when I was upset. I thought I could be that for him too.”
“You can be that person for him. You just have to be patient.”
I take a deep breath, keeping my focus on his bedroom light. “It’s hard. Tonight, I almost went into Ethan’s room again. I wanted to sit with him and maybe talk about Ethan, which is something I haven’t been able to do yet without getting upset, but he shut me out. Literally. I’m finally at a point where I want to talk about my,” I shudder, “feelings.I wanted to share them with Dad and to have him share them back. I miss talking to him. I hate not knowing what’s going on in his head.”
“That does sound hard.” He pauses. “I know I’m not your Dad, but maybe you could share them with me?”
Can I do that? Truly confide in Caleb?
Just the thought calms my heart. Every fiber in my being is telling me I can. He’s a safe place to share anything.
“Okay,” I say. “I’m ready to talk about Ethan.”
“I’m listening,” he says.
“No judgment?”
“No judgment.”
I don’t know where to start. Whenever I think about my brother, my emotions mix and become unrecognizable. There’s rage from him being gone and a sadness that coats everything. “I miss him a lot. We definitely fought, but I loved him. He was the golden child. The one that always had his homework in on time. I don’t know if you remember, but he was valedictorian and the quarterback on the football team. I swear, he was blessed with brains and brawn. I find myself in this constant trap of wishing it was me that died instead of him. I think things would’ve been better that way. I’m not as important or good as he was. He deserves to be here. I think, if he were here, my parents wouldn’t fight as much, and I know Mom would be happier.”
“I always thought your brother was cool. He had a mean throw, for sure. But don’t ever forget that you are special too. You would’ve left a hole in this world just as big as he did.”
I don't necessarily agree with him, but I appreciate the thought. “Do you remember much about him?”
“Not really. We were never that close. He wasn’t exactly the Jacobs sibling I had my eye on.”
“Wow.”
He chuckles. “But the few times we did hang out, he was nice.”
“He was the best,” I say.
“What’s your favorite memory of him?”
I shift my weight, trying to get comfortable, burying myself further in a cocoon of blankets. “There was this one time when he replaced my toothpaste with soap, so I posted his number on an online forum for single elderly women.”
He gasps. “You did not.”
“I did.” I bite at my laugh. “He eventually changed his number because he got so many calls.”
“That’s bad. Really bad.”
“I know.” My laugh bubbles out, along with a few tears.
So, this is what it feels like to remember someone and be happy about it. The sadness is still there, but joy is trickling in too. It’s like a weight has been lifted off my chest.
“Thank you,” I say.
“For what?” he asks.
“For being here for me. I know I’m not always the best at showing others how I feel, but I want you to know it means a lot.”
“I’ll always be here for you. Anytime you need me, just say the word, and I’ll come running.”
I suck in a breath. “I almost forgot how cheesy you can be.”
