Back To The Start

by Peter Styles

  *

  By evening time, only Greg and Mark were in their parent’s house. Jewel had left first, her coffee unfinished, heading out the door with Stephen. Catherine left hours later, leaving the brothers alone.

  They were on the patio, staring out across the backyard. Mark lit a cigarette, a habit that Greg thought he had quit. Given the circumstances, however, he didn’t blame him.

  “Today feels endless,” Mark said dryly, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “Do you want one?”

  “No, I’m okay. Thanks,” Greg responded as his brother slipped his pack of cigarettes away.

  “Do you think her friends will understand she didn’t want a wake?” This hadn’t been the first time that Mark had asked him this; it seemed to be bothering him, the idea that people would think they didn’t care about Nicki.

  “Yes. They knew her. They knew she didn’t want a big wake or anything whenever she…” He couldn’t say the word and fell silent.

  The sun was setting, casting orange rays across the lawn. Jewel’s parents were home. Greg could see the lights on in the dining room from here and could hear the dog barking. Dimly, he wondered where Jewel was and if she was happy with Stephen. He wondered if their friendship would ever fix itself or if it was forever changed by the events that had unfolded since he moved back home. He wondered where Ben was and if he had thought about him today. But most of all, he remembered his mom, popping her head over the fence to tell him to come home because dinner was ready.

  “I fucked up,” Mark said, causing Greg to snap out of his thoughts and look at him, surprised.

  “What?”

  “I messed up. With Dad dying. How I treated you since you got back. Bethany keeps telling me I am going to regret how I acted… how I have been acting.” The words were stilted, a hint of nervousness in Mark’s tone that Greg wasn’t used to. “I just couldn’t seem to stop acting that way. I just… I wanted to hurt you. I don’t know. I’m not good at this.”

  “I didn’t try to talk to you either about any of it. I ran off and moved to the city.”

  “I don’t blame you. It isn’t as though living here is exciting. I guess I was jealous. It felt like you got to escape the bad memories here while I couldn’t. I stayed behind because I didn’t know where else to go. Not like you. You always knew you weren’t going to stay here. You knew there was something else for you out there. There wasn’t anything out there for me.”

  Greg wanted to explain, wanted to tell his brother that he still ran away because it was easier than staying here and dealing with the aftermath of his father’s death. But Mark seemed to be exposing a piece of his soul, cutting open a wound that had never fully healed, and he didn’t want to interrupt.

  “What I said before. About how you could have alerted Dad to the fact the car was coming or done something to stop it. It’s insanity. You couldn’t have done anything.”

  “You couldn’t have either,” Greg replied, gently.

  Mark glanced at him and shifted uncomfortably in his chair, “Maybe. I still—I ran off. After saying those things to you about being gay. I was such an asshole. All this time. Mom… she used to say that we needed to patch up the differences between us and become a family again. But I just couldn’t let it go. The anger. It wasn’t until Bethany that I…”

  Greg blinked in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting Bethany to have changed Mark’s mind about anything. Once again, he felt a pang of remorse for how quickly he had blown off his brother’s girlfriend, just thinking she had been a fling.

  Mark exhaled slowly. “When you moved back, Bethany kept talking to me about you. She wanted me to patch things up. Thought we should talk it out, but I couldn’t do it. I was so angry you came back. Mom hadn’t been doing well for a while now and it just made me furious you returned. I see now it was stupid to be upset. Why wouldn’t I want you to come back? For Mom.”

  The brothers lapsed back into silence. Both were lost in their thoughts, lost in their past and the fight that had led to their father’s death.

  It was Greg who finally spoke, “Maybe we should see someone.”

  Mark cocked an eyebrow. “Like a therapist? I don’t need someone like that getting into my head.”

  “Just hear me out, alright?” He leaned forward. “Not for them to analyze your head or whatever you think they do. Just a space where we can talk about this stuff and have someone impartial listening. Because these issues we have… between us—they aren’t just going to go away with a hug.”

  Mark eyed him warily. “I wasn’t going to hug you.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He sighed, taking a long drag off his cigarette before replying, “I don’t know. We can work it out ourselves, can’t we? For Mom.”

  They stared at each other for a few seconds before Greg started to laugh. To his relief, Mark did as well, shaking his head.

  “Okay, you’re probably right. As much as I don’t want to see some headshrinker… Mom would want us to,” Mark said.

  At the mention of their mom, Greg felt the sadness threatening to spill over. Mark had finally opened his heart to him, but it had taken their mom passing away to get it to happen. Greg could only hope that somewhere she heard them talking, heard them try to start a real conversation again.

  Mark’s bottom lip trembled. The last time Greg had seen his brother cry was when their father had died. The sight of it proved to be his undoing. It felt like a dam broke in his chest.

  For the first time in a decade, the brothers cried together.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The suit that Greg was wearing felt like a thick blanket suffocating him. He had worn the suit before and it hadn’t felt like this. But the last time he wore it had been to a wedding, not to a funeral.

  The air felt heavy from the heatwave that had decided to come through, made thicker by the sadness that filled the air. He didn’t want to watch the coffin lower into the ground, didn’t want to hear the minister drone on any longer. He wanted to be far away from here, back in the city, back in his old life.

  He risked a glance at Mark. His brother’s face was expressionless. Bethany held onto his hand, looking forlorn. Catherine cried next to her, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

  Across from them, Jewel stood, pale, her cheeks tearstained as she leaned against Stephen. Greg tried not to be annoyed that she had brought him to the funeral. He had been spending most of his time since moving back home trying not to be annoyed with Jewel.

  Next to her was Ben. Greg hadn’t been expecting Ben to show up. He hadn’t heard from him since they had slept together, although he had been too busy to notice. He saw that Ben looked tired and kept shifting uncomfortably. He had opted out of a suit, instead wearing a button-up white dress shirt and black dress pants. The cuffs of the shirt were a little too large, resulting in him fiddling with them when he thought no one was looking. For once, his unruly hair was slicked back. He looked unlike himself except for the expression: bored and a little tired.

  If his mother had passed away only a few weeks earlier, Greg would have seen the look on Ben’s face and been furious. But now he knew better. He knew Ben wasn’t really bored; his features just seemed to settle that way when he wasn’t engaged in something.

  People began to come over to him, to say that they were sorry for his loss. Most of the people who arrived hadn’t talked to Nicki in years. Near the end, she kept to herself, not wanting to engage in conversations that she knew she would be unable to follow. Greg found himself struggling to remember who these people were and what connection they once held with his mom.

  After a while, the faces blended together. Greg would automatically shake their hands—or hug them if they seemed to want to be consoled—and mumble a thank you as they moved toward Mark.

  As the crowd thinned out, Greg looked around the cemetery. Jewel stood awkwardly in the middle of Ben and Stephen. Stephen was talking, gesturing a bit as he told some boring story to Ben—who looked like he wanted
to punch him. Not wanting a fight to break out, Greg excused himself and went over to them.

  “So, I told him that I just wasn’t interested. I mean, can you believe it?” Stephen said, wrapping up his story.

  Ben deadpanned, “I can’t believe I listened to that entire story.”

  Stephen frowned as Jewel looked alarmed, trying to figure out which man to pacify. That was when she saw Greg. Relief swept across her face. He could practically read what she was thinking: They won’t fight when the man who lost his mom is hanging around.

  “Greg. It was a lovely service,” Jewel said, taking a step forward as if to block Stephen from view.

  “Thanks.”

  “There isn’t a wake?” Stephen asked, and the way he checked his watch wasn’t subtle.

  “No. Everyone is free to leave now,” Greg replied, trying to keep his voice devoid of sarcasm.

  “We have to be somewhere.” Stephen’s voice was vague. “Jewel, I’ll be waiting at the car.”

  She looked embarrassed as she nodded. There was something familiar about the way that Jewel was shifting her weight, a strange, nervous energy that seemed to pour out of her.

  “Wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, sis,” Ben remarked, dryly.

  She glared at him. “Don’t start up again.”

  “I wasn’t. He just doesn’t seem the type that likes to be kept waiting even if he deserves it.”

  “You know, Ben, when you finally manage to land a woman who can tolerate you for more than two seconds, I cannot wait to make your life hell,” she snapped.

  Greg glanced at Ben, but he was steadfastly avoiding his gaze. Jewel grabbed Greg’s hand and tugged him away from Ben.

  “Before I leave, I just wanted to say again how sorry I am about Nicki.”

  “Thank you.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. “Do you want me to stay? I can talk to Stephen.”

  “He said you had somewhere to be.”

  “Yeah, but…” A strange flicker of emotion crossed her eyes, too fast for Greg to figure out what it meant. “Still.”

  “No, I’m okay. But thanks for coming.”

  Before, Jewel wouldn’t have left his side. They would have been together all night, probably watching bad movies together or just listening to Greg ramble about his mother and all the emotions swirling inside him. Now, however, things had shifted. There were secrets between them; events unfolded that left their friendship rocky and on shaky foundation. It made him sad, he realized, that the one friendship he thought would be steady and secure was now crumbling underneath his feet.

  “Right. Of course. You’ll call me if you need anything?”

  “I will,” he lied.

  Jewel nodded, cast one last look around the cemetery and turned around. Greg watched her leave, cutting across the rows of tombstones to where Stephen waited for her near his car. Her shoulders were hunched like she wanted to vanish inside herself. Ben watched her leave with a small shake of his head.

  Greg went over to him. “She’s hiding something.”

  Ben stiffened for a moment before nodding. “Sure is. You can tell by the way she carries herself. Whatever it is, it’s going to be shitty.”

  He wondered what Jewel could be hiding. It probably had something to do with Stephen. The truth was that he felt too tired to muster enough energy to care.

  Ben crossed his arms, still not looking at him. Through the fog of Greg’s brain, he realized that he had been acting this way since seeing him. A strange feeling kicked up in his stomach. He hadn’t given Ben much thought, not contacting him since they slept together. It was partly because he had been so busy dealing with his emotions about his mother and partly because Ben had seemed so confident when they slept together that he didn’t think there was an issue.

  But now… he glanced at Ben and his heart skipped a beat. He was incredibly handsome, but not the type of handsome that bowled someone over upon first glance. Ben’s attractiveness struck someone after they spent time around him and got to know him.

  “Everything okay?” Greg asked.

  “Yeah. What about you?”

  “Been better,” he answered, honestly.

  Ben ran his fingers through his hair nervously. Greg knew there was something he wanted to talk about. But he wouldn’t bring it up here, not during the funeral. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it right now. He couldn’t shake the feeling it was something bad, like Ben was going to tell him they had made a mistake sleeping together. He didn’t want to hear it.

  “Thanks for coming. I didn’t expect to see you here,” Greg said.

  Ben tilted his face to look at him. “Of course I’d be here.” His gaze softened. “Mark giving you a hard time?”

  “No. Actually…” He gave him an abridged version of what happened before with his brother, thankful that whatever was bothering Ben didn’t mean that he wasn’t interested in speaking to him.

  “Wow. A real breakthrough for once, right? You must be relieved,” Ben said, once he finished.

  “I am. But nervous too. About what therapy will be like. What sort of emotions will come out during the sessions.”

  Ben put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. “You guys will figure it out. I believe it.”

  Their eyes met. Memories of Ben’s lips against his flickered across his brain. Even though the touch was slight, he could feel it inside of him. It was hard not to accept these new feelings for Ben, hard to ignore how strong they were becoming.

  Ben sensed it, too. Greg could tell because he suddenly dropped his hand off his shoulder and ran his fingers through his hair again.

  “I should go. I have class,” he hesitated, “Unless you need company?”

  Selfishly, Greg did want his company. But he also couldn’t bring himself to ask Ben to skip class for him. Both Jewel and Ben were acting odd; they shared the same nervous energy when something was on their mind. Greg didn’t want to push Ben into speaking and skipping class on top of it.

  “No, I’m alright. Really.”

  “Okay. You have my number. If you need anything.”

  As he watched Ben walk away, with that long gait that belonged only to him, he realized just how little he knew about him. He didn’t know if Ben had been with men before, if he was ‘out’ with his friends, or anything about his romantic history. But there hadn’t exactly been time to just come right out and ask those things.

  He cursed inwardly for allowing himself to start falling for Ben.

  *

  The week after Nicki’s funeral seemed to pass in a fog. It was as if his body had been holding off on truly letting Greg feel the grief until the funeral finished. Now that there was nothing to focus on in terms of organizing his mother’s funeral and allowing the mourners to pay their respects, Greg felt unmoored.

  He threw himself into his paintings, banging out commission after commission. Low on sleep and not eating enough, Greg couldn’t stop painting. As long as he was painting, he wasn’t thinking about his mom, wasn’t beating himself up for not moving back here sooner. Jewel was hardly at the house anymore. He knew in the back of his head that she was planning something stupid, but he couldn’t muster the energy to stop and talk to her about it.

  Ben didn’t reach out to him, either. His phone was silent, as if the world outside had been switched off. But Greg didn’t notice. He just kept painting.

  He didn’t realize how much time had passed until someone was knocking on his door one late evening. It was so loud that he heard it over the music blasting in the dining room. Alarmed, he shut the music off and looked at the door curiously. Who came by this late in the evening to sell something?

  “Open up, idiot!”

  To Greg’s surprise, it was Mark’s voice on the other end. He could hear someone else, too, a high-pitched voice quietly scolding him for being too harsh on Greg— Bethany. He hurried over to the door, practically hearing his limbs creak from standing in the same position for too long.

  O
pening the door, he stared at his brother and his girlfriend. Bethany was holding a small tray of coffees. After dealing with low lighting and dark colors all week, Greg blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden explosion of color.

  Mark looked as shitty as Greg felt whenever he wasn’t painting. He stunk of cigarette smoke, as if he had bathed in ash, and glared at him.

  “Finally.”

  “What…” His throat felt dry and he cleared it, trying to speak again. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

  “Is something wrong?” Mark pushed past him as Bethany quickly apologized, “You’re just gone. An entire week and no one has heard from you. I’ve tried calling. And nothing.”

  “You called? I think my phone died.” Greg remembered that his phone had died, although he couldn’t recall exactly when it happened, or why he didn’t bother to recharge it.

  “We brought coffee. I wasn’t sure what you liked so… I got you my favorite!” Bethany said with forced cheer, handing him something that had about twenty pounds of whipped cream on top with sprinkles.

  “This is coffee?” Greg asked. “Looks like a sundae.”

  “Tastes like one too!” she trilled, happily. “Try it. You’ll love it, really. It always cheers me up.”

  “Our Mom dying isn’t going to get better because of some whipped cream,” Mark quipped, as he took his first look around Greg’s apartment.

  Bethany pursed her lips. “I know that. But it makes things less shitty for a couple of seconds.”

  Greg admired how Mark’s rampant negativity didn’t seem to pop the bubble of Bethany’s cheer. He took the drink from her.

  “Thank you,” he said, and he meant it.

  She beamed, a smile as bright as the sun as she took her own drink off the cup holder and left Mark to get his own.

  “Nice place. Can tell Jewel decorated,” Mark said, as Bethany went over to his paintings.

  “She isn’t here much anymore. Not since she’s back with Stephen.”

  “Yeah, what is that about?” Mark asked.