My Brother's Girl

by Sienna Blake

  Eoin said Kayleigh was safe, but she wasn’t. Not even close to it.

  Because I was going to crash us both.

  Kayleigh

  Even layered under a tank, two sweaters, a puffy vest, a jacket, and the largest, fluffiest scarf Dublin sold, just the slightest brush of my shoulder against Darren’s felt like a sin. It made my body tingle as if he’d brushed his palms across my naked breasts. It made my breath catch in my throat as if he’d exhaled against my mouth before he kissed me. It made my eyelids flutter shut for just the briefest moment as if my fingers were intertwining with his just before he entered me.

  I forced myself to keep my eyes forward as Darren and I followed a security guard down a long concrete hall beneath Aviva Stadium, because if I thought my shoulder bumping into his in the tight, bustling stands was bad, a single glance into those grey-blue storms was ten times worse.

  “So, did you two enjoy the match?” the security in his big black jacket looked back over his shoulder to ask.

  He was taking us to the team locker room to see Eoin to celebrate the victory. He had to nearly shout to be heard over the rattling rafters above us as fans stomped their frozen feet.

  “Yes,” Darren answered stiffly next to me, his voice as frigid as the brutal wind had been during the match.

  The security guard’s eyes found mine. I managed a smile even with my ice-cold cheeks.

  “Emhmm,” I said. “Great craic.”

  In reality it was ninety minutes of torture in the freezing cold. I clapped numbly when the crowd cheered, but other than that I couldn’t recall a single thing from the match. I remembered Darren’s musk amongst the stench of beer and popcorn. I remembered his knee always an inch from mine. I remembered his hands resting unmoving on his knees, and I remembered wondering if his pinkie twitched toward me or if it was only my imagination. I remembered the curl of his breath against the black sky next to me. I remembered thinking that he was like a shadow: I could see him, but I could not touch.

  I remembered it drove me fucking insane.

  Darren and I kept the same safe distance between us as we turned the corner as the security guard’s walkie-talkie crackled and popped.

  An awkward silence fell back over the three of us as the noise of the fans faded.

  The security guard winked at me over his shoulder and, of all the things he could say, he just had to say, “It must be something being Eoin O’Sullivan’s girlfriend, eh?”

  My eyes darted over to Darren, who seemed entirely unaffected as he stared forward, save for maybe a slight paling of his wind-chapped cheeks.

  “Oh, I’m not sure we’ve really defined things at this point and—”

  Before I could finish stammering through my explanation that I wasn’t Eoin’s girlfriend, the security guard pushed open the double doors to the home team’s locker rooms and a blast of shouting, laughing and pounding music interrupted me.

  I ducked under the security guard’s arm and into a chaotic swarm of half-naked men. Some whipped each other with towels, others chased down a teammate to give him a nuggie, and a few stood butt-ass naked with a foot up on a bench intently discussing the match. Just as I was about to turn around and ask if I should really be in here, I heard my nickname called from across the locker room.

  “Kayleigh Bear!”

  Through a sea of hairy thighs and shoulders the size of semi-trucks, I caught sight of Eoin sitting next to his locker, bare chested and wearing only a towel around his waist. I gave him a small wave before weaving my way through the waves of testosterone.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, “sorry, sorry.”

  “Hey, O’Connor, you asshole,” Eoin cupped his hands over his mouth to shout. “Get out of the way of my soulmate, you fucker!”

  “We’re just dating,” I muttered to a scowling bald man with a bristly black beard, “…I mean, sort of.”

  After dodging a Gatorade hurled across the locker room as another rock song blasted on the stereo, I stood before Eoin, wincing when he threw his arms up into the air in excitement.

  “A dream come true!” he shouted. “My girlfriend coming to see me after an epic victory. Three tries, babe. Three! Can you believe it?”

  “Yeah, it was great, Eoin.” I leaned in, whispering in a hushed voice so none of his teammates could hear. “Hey, listen, I think we really need to talk about where we are togeth—”

  “I know right where we are,” Eoin interrupted with a wide, beaming smile.

  Before I realised what was happening, Eoin’s hands found my waist and he tugged me onto his lap. I was mid-yelp from the suddenness of it all when his lips smashed into mine. My eyes went wide as his tongue darted into mine like a bait in a rough stream bobbing along with the current.

  I wanted to shove Eoin back and bark, “What the hell are you doing?” My hands were already squirming to get free from where they were pinned against my sides by Eoin’s iron grasp. But then I heard the cheers of his teammates. I saw their reactions if I reprimanded Eoin in front of all of them. I saw Eoin’s embarrassment and I suddenly froze because I just couldn’t bear to cause a scene.

  So I let Eoin kiss me.

  When he finally let me come up for air, he proceeded to cut off my lungs by crushing me against his chest in the tightest bear hug I’ve ever experienced in my life.

  “Isn’t she just the most beautiful thing in the world?” Eoin said to his teammates, who whistled and slapped each other on the shoulders as they eyed me. Feeling like a piece of meat, I blushed and couldn’t imagine the moment possibly getting any worse than it already was.

  But, of course, I hadn’t seen Darren’s face yet.

  He stood all the way across the locker room not more than a foot inside the set of entrance doors. He was staring at me with a look of horror like it hadn’t been two lips colliding in front of him, but two vehicles head-on on the highway and he couldn’t look away from the carnage.

  Embarrassed and ashamed, I wanted nothing more than to explain that I hadn’t wanted to kiss Eoin back. I tried to wriggle off Eoin’s lap to put some distance between the two of us, but Eoin held me tight with one arm. He, too, noticed Darren and waved him over.

  “Daz, three tries.” Eoin grinned. “Three! Can you believe it?”

  Darren walked up with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat, back stiff, and managed a nod of his chin. “Congrats, Eoin.”

  I squirmed uncomfortably in Eoin’s lap as Darren’s eyes seemed to take in everything I wanted to hide: Eoin’s palm on my upper thigh, his arm around my waist, his nose buried in my wind-tangled red locks.

  “Nobody messed with my little Kayleigh Bear, did they?” Eoin asked, rubbing his nose against my cheeks playfully as I tried to hide a grimace.

  Darren shook his head, his movement robotic like he was in auto drive.

  “I knew I could count on you,” Eoin grinned. “You’re coming out to celebrate with us and the guys, right?”

  It took me a moment to realise that “us” meant Eoin and me. My stomach sank.

  Eyes fixed on the floor at his oil-stained boots, Darren again shook his head. “I’ve got some work I’ve got to get to at the shop.”

  “Can’t it wait, Daz?” Eoin pleaded. “Come on, we’ll help you find a nice little lady at the bars, like Kayleigh Bear here.”

  Darren’s eyes lifted to find mine and all the blue was gone: they were the steel grey of the knife that stabbed through my heart. “I’ve got to work,” he said.

  “I could come with you and help,” I blurted out before I could stop myself, my eyes reaching out to beg in a way my words could not. “At the shop, I mean. I could come hel—”

  “No.” Darren’s voice cut through the chatter and laughter of the locker room like the grim reaper’s scythe.

  He did not shout. He did not yell. If anything, the single word from his lips was closest to a whisper. But it brought a chill over the room and ice to my heart.

  “No,” he repeated. “You two go out and have
fun.” His eyes met mine before he turned to leave. There was no anger or betrayal or hurt in them. Our eyes met like two strangers on a bus, a passing glance of coincidence and nothing more. There was no disdain. Barely any recognition. It was as if Darren had wiped me from his memory.

  That hurt worse than any amount of anger could.

  Darren disappeared into the crowd of Eoin’s teammates, who were now dancing together between the lockers, oblivious to what had just happened.

  Eoin himself didn’t even seem to notice as he again squeezed me tight. “Ready to party till dawn, Kayleigh Bear?”

  I was ready to run after Darren.

  I was ready to slap him.

  I was ready to get up into his face and shout, “I know it’s an act. I know you haven’t forgotten me. I know you haven’t forgotten our kiss.”

  I was ready to fight!

  But, no.

  I was the polite, respectful, ruffle-no-feathers, make-not-a-peep girl my mother raised me so diligently to be. Tugging up the corners of my lips into a smile was like cranking that rusted wrench in Darren’s garage that always got stuck. I managed. Because I always managed. I smiled at Eoin and nodded.

  “Sure.”

  Darren

  Today was the hardest day of the year. Every year on this day, I tried every trick in the book to try to get through it. My first attempt, of course, was to get blackout drunk. That had been rather effective, but it made Ma worry, and I didn’t want her to worry. So I keep myself to a few fingers of whiskey instead of the whole goddamn bottle.

  Drugs were never really my thing, so that was out. I gave meditation a shot, positive affirmations, mantras and deep, mindful breathing and all that shite. It was shite.

  Hell, I even considered the military once to have a legitimate reason to be absent from family for the holidays. But I don’t do too well with orders.

  No, the best way I’d found to deal with the anniversary of my twin brother’s death was to wear an oversized hoodie, stuff my hands into the pocket pouch, and squeeze my thumb and forefinger into the skin of my palm till the pain was all I felt.

  Till I didn’t hear the crackle of the fire in the living room as my brothers went around retelling the same stories about Jaime they did every year.

  Till I didn’t hear their laughter at this story that died off slowly and sink, sink, sink into a heavy silence filled with incurable sadness.

  Till I didn’t hear the creak of the recliner or the crack of the couch cushions or the moan of a wooden floorboard as each of my brothers shifted uncomfortably once all the happy stories had been exhausted and there was only the sad ending left unspoken.

  Forever left unspoken.

  As long as I kept pinching and as long as the hoodie was black or dark navy or some shade of maroon to hide the blood from my punctured palms, this method worked alright.

  This year my oversized hoodie was a charcoal grey so dark, it looked black in the light of the fire burning low in the living room. Michael, Noah, and Eoin were currently recalling stories of Jaime as a baby, and I had yet to break through the callused old scars on my left palm; that would come later when the silence grew louder, when the silence grew unbearable.

  “Ma told the local seamstress that she had twins and that she wanted something ‘spooky’ for their Halloween costumes,” Noah was saying, already clutching at his chest in laughter. “Next thing you know the neighbours are whispering about two little boys trick-or-treating and dressed up in frilly dresses as the creepy twins from The Shining.”

  Eoin’s booming laugh, despite the fact that we’d all heard the story countless times, drowned out Michael’s chuckle and Noah’s gasps for air. I just pinched my palm and smiled.

  We went through mishaps of Jaime and my elementary school years, the mischief of our pre-teen years, and the embarrassments of our adolescences, and they laughed and laughed and laughed because laughter was easier than tears, or worse, silence.

  None of my brothers wanted to get to the point of the night where we ran out of stories. None of my brothers wanted to acknowledge that there would never be more stories. None of my brothers wanted to feel the distance between our lives—with plans the next morning, appointments the next week, New Year’s celebrations marked on the calendar—and the life that stopped with a squeal of tyres and a crunch of metal.

  I sensed the lull in the remembrance and glanced around the living room from my place in the single, high-backed wooden chair in the darkest corner. Michael crossed and uncross his legs, Noah glanced at his wristwatch, and Eoin got up from his place on the couch to stoke the fire that didn’t need stoking at all. I felt the wetness of blood on my palm as I pinched harder and harder, but the sting of pain was more welcome than the sting of tears at my eyes.

  Eoin returned to his place next to Noah on the couch, and Michael practically sighed in relief when Eoin opened his mouth. Unfortunately, his words brought my troubled soul no semblance of ease.

  “You know, I bet that Jaime would really like Kayleigh.” Eoin smiled at each of us in turn.

  He smiled at Noah last, because we’d had this same discussion when Noah had finally made things official with Aubrey. It was a way of dragging Jaime’s memory along with the progress of our lives, a way of pretending like he was still a part of our joys and triumphs, our failures and disappointments, our once-in-a-lifetime engagements and everyday mundane to-do lists. But it was all a façade. It was all a way to make us feel better. No, it was all a way to make me feel better.

  Because whether they would admit it or not, my brothers had moved on from Jaime’s death. They had processed their grief healthily, mourned respectfully, and remembered happily. I was the one who refused to speak of my brother. I was the one who was haunted by his ghost. I was the one who had a rainy night almost ten years ago stuck on loop every time I closed my eyes.

  Because I was the one who knew the truth.

  “I bet Jaime would have just loved her to pieces,” Noah said, reaching over to pat Eoin on the hand.

  “He definitely would have thought that she was the most beautiful girl in the world,” Michael added with a gentle smile. “Along with Aubrey, of course.”

  I should have just nodded when Eoin glanced over at me and asked, “What do you think, Daz? Do you think Jaime would have liked Kayleigh if he could have met her?”

  I should have just nodded and pinched harder and gotten through my hell night, just like every other hell night before it. But I just couldn’t. I just fucking couldn’t.

  My brother’s all shifted in surprise when I stood and marched across the living room rug, past the crackling fireplace, and out into the darkness and the cold of the hall.

  “Darren?”

  Eoin started to shout after me before I heard Noah lean over to him and say, “Just let him go.”

  In the hallway I bit down on my lip to keep from shouting and resisted the urge to bang the back of my head against the row of picture frames again and again. Why didn’t I just keep my cool? Why didn’t I just sit there and give Eoin one single goddamn nod? Why couldn’t I just keep up the guise for thirty more seconds that I was fine, just fucking fine?

  But I knew. Of course, I knew.

  It was her.

  I was just about to head upstairs when I heard Michael, eager to reassure Eoin that everything was fine, say, “Tell us how it’s going with Kayleigh.”

  I shouldn’t have stayed.

  I stayed.

  “She’s the cutest, most adorable creature ever,” Eoin started as I listened in from the hallway. “She’s smokin’ hot and I love just squeezing her, you know?”

  Michael chuckled and Noah remained silent.

  “And don’t even get me started on the sex…” Eoin then said.

  The boys let out little wolf whistles.

  I stayed.

  I shouldn’t have stayed.

  “Go on then. Bra size, favourite position, any interesting tattoos. You know, the usual.” That was Michael quoting Eoin’
s own words.

  Eoin let out a snort. “As if I’d tell you any of that.”

  “But you always—”

  “She’s not some wan I picked up in a bar. She’s my fecking soulmate.”

  There was no reason that it should have come as a shock to me that Kayleigh and Eoin had been intimate. They had been dating for long enough by today’s standard. But it came as a shock nonetheless.

  I felt hurt.

  Then I felt stupid.

  And, finally, I felt angry.

  Angry at Eoin. Angry at Kayleigh. Angry at myself. Most of all, angry at Jaime.

  Because Jaime would have liked Kayleigh. He would have really liked Kayleigh. But not for any of the reasons that Eoin listed to my brothers. Jaime would have liked her because she was thoughtful. He would have liked her because she listened better than anyone I knew. He would have liked her because she called me out on my bullshite.

  Jaime would have loved Kayleigh.

  But Jaime wasn’t here.

  Kayleigh wasn’t mine.

  And my hoodie was wet with blood.

  Kayleigh

  When Eoin asked if I wanted to come along with him for a family thing, I expected it to be something Christmas-related. I wore an extra layer in case it involved carolling or hanging Christmas lights. I decided on comfy pants so I was ready for a day of baking Christmas cookies or snuggling up with Aubrey and Ma on the couch for an afternoon of It’s a Wonderful Life and The Grinch. I fully expected to drag in a pine from the Christmas tree lot, string freshly popped popcorn, and listen to Michael play the piano as we hung childhood ornaments.

  So it came as quite a surprise when I got into Eoin’s car parked outside my apartment and he revealed that the family thing was visiting his brother’s grave.

  I reached over and turned off the local Dublin radio station whose DJ was merrily, and suddenly wildly inappropriately, listing the results for that year’s Christmas light display competition. I pushed my sunglasses up onto my white beanie because it was a gorgeous, bright blue sky, glistening sunshine, gentle breeze soft as silk kind of day.