by Lisa Lace
“Maybe you’re right.” Melissa looks down at the coffee table and holds her hands up in her hair. “Maybe you and Lucy are both right. Maybe I’m doing more harm than good for the both of us, trying to handle him all on my own.”
Fresh tears fill her eyes. “I’m exhausted all the time. I’m scared when I hear him come in. I never know what chaos I’m going to walk into. I’m finding it hard to stay focused on my studies. I feel like I’m losing control.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“I can’t bear the thought of letting him down.”
“I know. I understand.”
Melissa looks at me desperately. “I don’t think I can keep doing this, Henry. Maybe I should tell Connor to move out—but there’s no way he’d listen to me.”
“I’ll be here with you.”
Melissa
My heart thumps painfully as Henry and I wait in tense silence for Connor to return. After years and years of putting up with Connor’s disrespect, unkindness, and recklessness, things have finally gone too far. I don’t know if kicking him out is the right thing to do, but I’m scared of how much could be lost if he continues to bring his lifestyle into our home. I can’t take responsibility for him forever.
I squeeze Henry’s hand nervously. “Am I doing the right thing?”
“At the end of the day, Lissy, it’s your life. It’s up to you.”
Even though he says it’s up to me, I wonder if it really is. Henry and Lucy have both been telling me what I need to do. Although I hear the logic in their words, in my heart, I feel like I’m giving up on my brother.
Henry must recognize the look on my face. “It doesn’t have to be today. Maybe think about it a while.”
I shake my head. “No. Today. Or else I’ll lose my nerve.”
We wait together as the time ticks by. The evening turns into night, and I start to worry, twisting my hands in my lap. “He’s been out all day. He could be anywhere.”
Henry puts his arm around me. “He’ll be fine. He always is.”
“What if he’s sitting in some alley somewhere, smoking god-knows-what, popping pills?”
“There’s nothing you can do about it if you don’t know where he is.”
“I’ve called him hundreds of times over Christmas, and he won’t answer. He’s not answering now. If he’s this mad at me for going away for the holidays, what’s he going to be like when I tell him he’s got to leave? He’ll probably never speak to me again.”
“Or maybe he’ll feel sorry for himself for a few days, then realize how good he had it, and come back with a change in attitude.”
“He better get here soon, or I’ll lose my resolve.”
The door swings open. Henry and I both jump and turn to the door. Connor stands there, looking more dressed up than usual, wearing clean clothes and what looks like a new black hooded sweatshirt.
He sees us and throws a scowl our way. “Look who’s back.”
Beside me, Henry’s hands curl into fists. I need to navigate this situation carefully—the last thing I want is for this to turn into a fist fight between my boyfriend and my brother.
“Connor. I’ve been worrying about you. Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
Connor ignores my question and breezes past into the kitchen, where he kneels down to open the under-counter fridge and look for something to eat. There’s no food in there, but he does pull out a beer, then strolls casually back into the living room.
“You left this place in a mess,” I say. My voice becomes tight as Connor continues to ignore me. My resolve strengthens as I witness yet another act of defiance on his part. He doesn’t give a single fuck about anything. “There were drugs in here.”
He shrugs. “So?”
“This is my apartment.”
“This is our apartment.”
My voice flares. “Is it? Because you don’t pay rent here, and as long as you’re under my roof, you live by my rules.”
Connor scoffs, letting out a low, scornful snigger. He rolls his eyes. “Alright, Mom.”
My eyes fill with bitter, angry tears. I stand up and point a finger in Connor’s direction. Behind me, Henry tenses and leans forward, ready to step in if needed.
“Don’t call me that,” I warn him. “We both know I’m not your mother.” I take a step toward him; my voice low and angry. “When I came home, this place was trashed. Bottles, ash, garbage all over the place; the carpet ruined; blood in the bathroom. That’s not the way to treat either someone else’s property or your own home. It’s disrespectful, and it puts us at risk. Drugs, Connor? That’s all it would take to get us evicted.”
“Good!” Connor snaps. “I want to go back to Holyoke.”
“Then go! Pack your things and go back to Holyoke. If you can get a job and an apartment all by yourself, then by all means, go back there. But I’m staying here to finish my degree.”
Connor scowls. “I could go back any time I wanted. I have friends there.”
“I’m sure you’ll be just as comfortable sleeping on a sofa in a meth den as you are here, with a sister who cooks and cleans for you and does everything else.” I let out a long, exasperated breath. My anger subsides and is replaced by sadness. My voice breaks a little as I continue. “Does everything I do for you really mean so little? I don’t understand how you could turn our home into a dumpster and think it’s alright to do drugs and god-knows-what-else in here. And what about the blood? Who have you been fighting? What about the needles? What have you been taking?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“If you’re living in my apartment, it’s my business, Connor.”
He says nothing, just rolls his eyes again and takes a swig of his beer. He rubs his temples like I’m annoying him. It makes my blood boil.
I fold my arms across my chest, even though my voice trembles. “You need to leave.”
“Excuse me?”
“You need to get out of here. I was going to give you a few weeks to find your feet, but I don’t think I can deal with this for another second. I want you to pack your bags and go.”
“Go where?”
I shrug, a pained expression on my face. “Holyoke, if that’s where you want to be. Go to one of your friends. A shelter. Maybe Aunt Dayna will let you stay for a while. Or go to a motel. I have two hundred dollars on me. Take it.”
I take the money out my purse and lay it on the table. “That’s the last of what I’m giving you, Connor. When I wasn’t much older than you, I was going to court to fight for custody of my brother. I was studying in college. I was working two jobs. And I was grieving, too. I’m not expecting anything of you that I haven’t done myself. I’m not asking you to go to Harvard. Jesus, I’m not even asking you to go to college. You don’t need some high-flying career to impress me. Get a job at Walmart. I don’t care what you do, Connor; I just want to see you doing something with your life.”
“You’ve always looked down on me.” Connor’s voice is cold and bitter, and he doesn’t look at me when he speaks. “But you’ve loved every second of control you’ve had over me since Mom died, playing the burdened big sister role, so everyone can pat you on the back. You’ve sucked up all that attention and loved it.”
“That’s not true.”
“You’re ‘poor little me’ act is growing old, Lissy. I’m sick of watching you act like you’re the damsel in distress, just waiting for someone to offer you your own Lifetime movie.”
“Grow up.” I bark the words. “Every time I try to point out the fact you need to take some responsibility for your life, you belittle me, hoping I’m going to drop it. Not this time. I’m done with it.
“Take the money and use it to take a train to Holyoke or Aunt Dayna’s or get a motel. If and when you’re done throwing insults at me, you can call. I’m not giving you any more money, but I’ll help you find your feet. That offer to help you write your resume is still there. I don’t want to give up on you, Connor, but putting yo
u before everything else is going to be my downfall.”
I kneel down in front of him and put my hands on his knees. Lifting my gaze to try and catch his eyes, I will him to make a breakthrough, to truly understand my grief. “I love you more than anything. You know that? You’re my baby brother, and I want everything for you. I want you to be happy. But I don’t have the time, energy or resources to keep trying to fix you. Maybe out there, you’ll find what you need.”
He shakes his head in contempt. “Don’t act like you’re doing this for my sake. You’re fed up with having me around.” He stands up from his chair and turns towards his bedroom. “Mom would be rolling in her grave right now. She’d be ashamed of you.”
Henry rises to his feet. “How dare you,” he spits at Connor. “The way you use your mom’s memory to take advantage of your sister makes me sick. Think about what your mother might think of you right about now—doing drugs, getting in fights, holding Melissa back. You’re bleeding her dry, and all you care about is throwing your own little pity party for yourself. Grow up.”
Striding across the room, Connor squares up to Henry, straightening to his full height and folding his hands into fists. He’s a few inches shorter than Henry, but he’s broader and more vicious.
“Everything changed since you came along. Things were fine before you got involved. You want to play hero, but you’re not saving anyone. You’re splitting apart a family. Melissa and I have only got each other, and you’re coming in between us. Make you feel good, does it?”
“The only person coming between you and Melissa is you. Get clean, get a job, get some fucking counseling, for Christ’s sake, and you’ll have a good life. But don’t blame your sister for your problems. And don’t try blaming me.”
“I see how it is.” Connor turns from Henry to me slowly, and the look of betrayal on his face kills me. The tense moment between him and Henry dies out as Connor takes a step back and holds up his hands. “I wouldn’t want to get in between you two sweet little lovebirds. If you want me out, I’m out.”
Henry
Melissa was a mess after Connor packed his things and left her apartment.
But two weeks later, she’s a different person. Without the stress of Connor in her life, she’s brighter, more focused, and happier than I’ve ever seen her.
Sometimes, I’ll see her smiling and laughing without a care in the world—finally happy, finally free—until she remembers Connor and retreats into herself, a shadow coming over her. I know the guilt and worry are devouring her. She hasn’t heard from Connor since he left a fortnight ago.
We must have had two dozen conversations already in which Melissa imagines where Connor might be or what he might be doing. I listen along and nod because I know she needs it, but secretly, all I care about is that Melissa is safe and free to live her own life at last.
Our romance has been on hold for a while as Melissa gets her head together after her fallout with Connor. Being the instigator for Melissa finally telling Connor to leave has made me want to keep my distance a little so she doesn’t think I had any ulterior motives besides wanting what’s best for her.
However, now a little time has passed, I want to get things back on track between us. I invite her out for dinner.
We meet at a local Italian place. Melissa dresses up in a classic little black dress with black suede sandals, her hair clipped up. She looks relaxed, an easy smile on her face.
We order our pasta dishes and share some red wine. “How are you feeling?” I ask her.
She offers half a smile. “I’m worried about him. But I didn’t realize how much I was carrying around until that weight was gone.”
“Has he been in touch?”
Her eyes grow sad. “No. Still nothing. I’ve left him a dozen voicemails.” She shrugs again. “There’s nothing I can do if he doesn’t want to speak to me. I can only hope he comes around in time.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I tell her. “He’ll contact you eventually. I promise.”
Melissa smiles, then picks up her glass. “Enough about Connor. To looking forward.”
“To looking forward.”
She grins wickedly at me. “Speaking of families, have you heard from yours since Christmas?”
I laugh. “Only an email from my father asking me about some purchases on the card. We’re not really the heart-to-heart type of family.”
She smiles. “Well, I’ve had dozens of messages from Olivia. She’s always sending me links to something funny she’s seen online, or something cute she’s seen on a clothing website. I think she’s been missing out on a little light-hearted chat.”
“The Southbys aren’t known for their levity.”
“I don’t know. Your brother was nice if a little business-minded.”
“Alexander would be a great laugh if he wasn’t so keen to impress our father.”
“I mean, for all that happened over Christmas, your father must be proud of how you’re doing here. Your grades are fantastic.”
“The problem with high expectations is that it’s almost impossible to exceed them. I don’t think I’ve ever made my parents proud.”
Melissa reaches across and threads her fingers through mine on the linen tablecloth. “Well, I think you’re wonderful. This year has been a turning point for me—and it all started with you.”
“I thought you might be mad at me after everything that’s happened with Connor. I thought maybe I’d pushed you into doing something you didn’t want to do.”
“The truth is always hard to hear—it doesn’t make it any less true. I’m going to continue doing everything I can for Connor, but from a distance. I’ve already opened a savings account to put some money aside for him. If he ever gets his act together and needs some money for a deposit on an apartment, a business suit, or to study, I hope I’ll be able to help him out.”
“You’re a good person, Melissa. I really hope Connor turns a corner sometime soon.”
“Me, too.”
I look across at Melissa, and the surge of love within me is impossible to contain. She’s beautiful, smart, compassionate, devoted, and no matter what’s going on in her own life, she always takes the time to show me she cares.
I hold her hand tightly and catch her gaze. “I love you.”
Her eyes soften, and she smiles. “I love you, too.”
“The year ahead is going to be a good one. I can’t wait to spend as much time with you as I can.”
Melissa grows tearful from emotion, but she smiles. “I haven’t been this happy in a long time. Even with everything that’s happened with Connor, I’m happy. I feel like everything’s going to be all right.”
Melissa
When my cell rings, I’m in bed, and the sound jolts me out of sleep. I blink in the darkness as I scrabble for my cell on the nightstand and turn the screen toward me. Unknown number.
Usually, I’d ignore a call like that, assuming it was some kind of scam, but instinct tells me to answer. It could be Connor. “Hello?”
“Miss Thorne?”
“Speaking.”
“I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour. My name is Lance Collins. I’m a public defender.”
My stomach twists in nervous knots. I sit upright, reaching for my lamp and switching it on. I squint against the sudden brightness and bow my head into my hand, clutching my phone against my ear. “It’s Connor, isn’t it? Is he in trouble?”
“I’m afraid so, Miss Thorne.”
“Where are they holding him? Do you need me to pick him up? What’s he been charged with?” Probably a drunk and disorderly, or possession.
“Manslaughter.”
My breath catches in my throat, and intense panic keeps me from drawing in another. There’s a long silence before I finally say in a strangled voice, “Manslaughter?”
“From what I understand, your brother was involved in a fight with another man which resulted in the death of the other person. We’ll know more when the autopsy report co
mes back, but from what is known, this person was in perfect health prior to the fight.”
“Was it definitely Connor who was involved?”
“Several witnesses identified him, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
“Where is he now?”
“In the hospital.”
Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse. “Oh my god. Is he hurt?”
“His injuries aren’t life-threatening, but they’re keeping him under police supervision until he sobers up.”
“He was drunk.” My voice is defeated.
“Tests show he was also under the influence of narcotics. MDMA and cocaine were found in his system.”
“Jesus Christ, Connor.” I’m choking now on my tears. “I’m on my way.”
Henry meets me at the hospital entrance, and I rush into his arms. They close around me tightly, holding me warm and safe. Though I’m a sobbing mess, Henry is a solid, reassuring presence. He holds me up as I cry.
“What happened?”
“All I know is Connor got into a fight, and the other guy died.”
“Were there any weapons involved?”
“I don’t know.”
“Drugs?”
“Yes.”
Henry draws in a long breath through his teeth, then lets it out slowly. “Let’s hope it was only a fist fight. At least a lack of a weapon shows there was no intent.”
“It’s Connor being a reckless, stupid idiot again,” I say, my voice choked by hot, angry tears. “He got wasted, went out, and got into a fight as usual, except this time, he hasn’t gotten away with it. This time, he killed someone. I can’t believe he’s taken a life. My brother.”
Henry pulls me against him and holds me close. “There are two sides to every story. Let’s see what Connor has to say.”
We go to the reception desk to ask where Connor is. The way the receptionist raises her eyebrows and frowns makes me feel small. “He’s just down the hall and to the left. Room 32.”