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“You’re so like your father,” she muttered. “Itkillsme my two boys can’t get along well enough to be under the same roof in the same city.”
I heard a choked sob and lifted my eyes to the ceiling. No one could undertake a guilt trip quite like my mother.
“Mom,” I said, the fight leaving me.
“I’m not going to be around forever you know? And all I want is for my boys to act like brothers.”
“We do act like brothers,” I insisted.Just not ones with close ties.
She hesitated for a while before finally saying, “Aren’t you lonely, Nathan? I worry about you. If you can’t connect to your family, who will you ever connect with?”
I should have shrugged off that comment like I did all her other remarks, but it lingered in my mind. Loneliness was not a word in my vocabulary. Yet I had to admit I did spend a significant amount of time alone. When things went well at work, there was no one to share my success with. While my employees took full advantage of our company’s vacation policy, I couldn’t fathom taking time off—mostly because I wasn’t sure who I’d spend it with. So, while it’s true that loneliness did not consume me, my mother’s words still weighed heavily on me.
Perhaps that was the reason I now stood in front of Oliver’s house. I shook the memory as I exited my car and cursed under my breath as my shoe scuffed against the rough concrete. Iglanced at my reflection in the car window, adjusting my hair with an air of habitual precision. My mother used to call me her little control freak. Not exactly the most endearing nickname, but I know she meant no harm.
I’m sure I could be a bit maddening at times, but how could I trust someone to do something better than I could do it myself? Ben has always told me I’m difficult as a boss. But having high standards isn’t being difficult. In fact, it was the only reason we got to the place we’re at now. He should thank me for the millions sitting in his bank account.
Before I could think too long about it, I strode up the uneven path that led to the front door.
As I stood there about to knock, the thought of leaving now and finding a hotel scratched at the back of my mind.
Before I could execute my plan, a shaggy-haired brunet the same height as me threw open the door. “Brother!”
He embraced me, and I patted his back before stepping away.
“Oliver,” I greeted.
“Dude, I can’t believe you’re here. I thought I was never going to get you to come out to my place.”
“I’m here for work,” I reminded him, not entirely sure why I felt compelled to give an excuse. Did spending time with my brother always have to evoke such an overwhelming sense of obligation? Admittedly, we had about as much in common as two strangers sitting across from each other on a bus, but we were still blood relatives. We grew up under the same roof, raised by the same parents. No one else could relate to me on that fundamental level.
Over the years, he had made sincere efforts to visit me or propose a family trip. I had brushed aside all of these attempts, content with the current distance I held him. Maybe it was time I finally got to know my brother beyond the surface-level pleasantries we exchanged during our semiannual catchups.
“Come in,” he said, hoisting up my bag and pulling me into the living room. Adorning every wall were posters depicting mountains, or thrilling shots of someone doing something adventurous. If I looked closely enough, I'm sure I’d find Oliver himself in most of the pictures. Following him into the house, I took in my new surroundings. The entryway went right into the living room which extended into the dining room. Beyond that, I could see into the white kitchen and said a silent prayer of gratitude that I didn’t see any piles of trash strewn about.
“Nice place.”
“Thanks.” He beamed, his blue eyes mirroring the exact same shade as my own. Looking into them almost gave me an eerie sensation, as if peering into my own reflection.
I scratched the back of my neck, already at a loss for conversation. “Buying this place was a smart investment.”
He rolled his eyes. “Really? I seem to remember you saying something about how I should get a stable job before buying a house.”
“You should have,” I said. “But all things considered, buying a house in Denver five years ago was a great call. You must have gotten at least a fifty percent return on this place.”
“Not everything is about the numbers, bro. I bought this place because I knew I wanted to live out here long-term.” He ran his hand down his face. “Jesus, listen to you. You haven’t taken two steps inside and you’re already talking to me about finances.”
I stared past his shoulder at a picture of him propelling down the side of a rocky cliff. “It was only an observation.”
He dropped my suitcase on the couch and gestured around the living room. “Well, can you observe how freaking awesome my place is instead? Why don’t you compliment my taste in decorating, or at least have the decency to ask for a tour.”
“Three bedrooms, two baths on two floors with a rooftop patio. I looked up your listing. Two thousand square feet, right?”
He smacked his forehead and sighed. “You’re impossible. Reading the facts on a listing is not the same thing as letting your brother give you a tour of his home. Can you loosen up a bit?”
“I’m loose.” Actually, I felt particularly tense but I saw no point in mentioning that. Looseness was not an attribute I possessed anyway.
Oliver eyed me up and down, sensing the lie. I rolled my shoulders to shake the stiffness from them.
