My Torin

by K. Webster

  I exit the bathroom and my heart constricts to see someone has stoked my fire and it blazes with heat. But it’s what’s on the nightstand that has me smiling. A vase filled with white flowers. All kinds. I don’t even know what sort of flowers they are…they’re just exotic. The vase is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before and upon closer inspection, I see someone has glued the shiniest pennies all over it in a pattern. It’s perfect.

  Oh, Torin.

  I know it’s him.

  I pluck the card from the holder and read his neat, precise words.

  I couldn’t choose one type to represent you. You’re everything at once. Every pretty thing in one breathtaking package.

  “Thank you,” I say aloud in the room, even though he’s not in here. I have a feeling he can hear me.

  Tears swim in my eyes and I blink them back rapidly so I don’t ruin my makeup. I inhale the lovely scent before walking over to my dresser to fetch my favorite ring. When I don’t find it, I frown and look around for it on the floor. I don’t have time to hunt for it any longer. Quickly, I rush through the house to meet with Tyler. There are still so many parts of this giant house I want to explore, but I never do. Maybe tonight Tyler can take me on the ultimate tour.

  When I reach the dining room, I let out a gasp. The table has been set with white linens, silver plates, crystal glasses, and candles. So fancy.

  “Wow,” I utter aloud.

  “I could say the same,” a deep voice murmurs from behind me.

  I turn to see Tyler dressed in a fitted suit that hugs his body well. He’s lost some weight recently, but in his suit, you can’t tell. His eyes flicker with hunger, which has heat prickling over my skin. It’s an expression I don’t see from him ever.

  “Come here, sweetheart,” he says, his hands finding my waist. He pulls me against his chest for a hug. His cock is hard between us. More heat surges through me. “This ass is divine.” His palms find my butt and he squeezes it. Shocked by his bold advance, I freeze in his arms. When he continues to grope my bottom, I push away from him. Our eyes meet and he blinks several times, shaking his head, as though he’s trying to clear through a haze. He staggers a bit and his hip clips the table. A grunt rumbles from him as he jerks out his chair and falls into it. His fingers go to his temples and he massages the flesh there.

  “Tyler?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  His eyes lift to mine, his pupils constricting. “What?”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “I’ll have a drink, thank you.”

  Panic flutters in my chest. “No, I’m asking if you’ve been drinking.”

  He blinks at me some more, confusion dancing in his eyes. “What?”

  Before I can freak the fuck out, Torin bursts from the wall. And oh my God he looks hot. My attention is stolen momentarily as I drink in his appearance. He’s shaved his face and his hair has been styled. The suit he’s wearing is similar to Tyler’s, but his knot at his throat is tight and perfectly tied, unlike Tyler’s, whose is a mess.

  Tyler is a mess.

  Something does not add up.

  If I know anything, it’s that Tyler is never a mess.

  Torin falls into his chair and his intense stare is on me. Appreciative and assessing. When he sees my worried expression, he darts his gaze over to Tyler. Torin’s jaw remains clenched and his hands are fisted on the table, but his eyes flicker with concern.

  “I think something’s wrong with Tyler,” I whisper to Torin.

  Torin’s eyes widen and his mouth parts as though he wants to say something.

  “Waitress, bring my woman some wine,” Tyler barks out suddenly, waving his hand in the air at no one.

  Torin yells, “No!”

  I tense at the fury rippling from Torin despite his impassive features.

  Tyler scoffs. “I bet some wine would loosen her right up. Right, baby? Come sit on my lap and let me touch your perky tits.”

  Humiliation has my skin burning. “Tyler,” I choke out. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Is this it? Is this what they were waiting on? For me to turn eighteen?

  Torin jerks to his feet and tugs at the knot of his tie. “Headaches. Worse in the mornings. Increase with activity.”

  I frown at him. “What?”

  “Fuck,” Tyler grumbles and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck.”

  “Seizures. Muscle twitches. Spasms.” Torin’s stare is on his brother. Accusing and sad.

  “What are you talking about?” I demand, my voice rising.

  “Torin, please,” Tyler begs, his voice pained but familiar.

  “Loss of consciousness and bodily functions that is followed by twitching and relaxing of the muscles. Personality changes. Memory changes. Lethargy. Nausea. Vomiting. Sleep disturbances,” Torin rattles off robotically.

  My stomach rolls over as fear sets in. Not fear for me. Fear for the truth. Whatever it is that’s hiding in plain sight here in this room.

  “Patient can experience some of them together or possibly no symptoms at all. Some of the symptoms might have a different cause, unrelated to brain tumor.” Torin jerks his head my way as he continues to deliver his words, not unlike the day he recited the articles of when I was found in the church nativity scene eighteen years ago. “Tumors form because of mutations in cell DNA, which disrupt this normal cycle. Cells start to divide uncontrollably, and continue living, when normal cells would die. The cause of the mutations to begin in the first place is hard to recognize. It can be a variety of things, like environmental factors, exposure to radiation, genetic predisposition,” Torin spits out, venom dripping from his words.

  Wait?

  What?

  “T-Tumor?” I hiss, my attention back on Tyler.

  His head is bowed and his shoulders slumped forward. “Casey…”

  “In case of inoperable brain tumor there are a variety of treatment options—”

  “Inoperable?” I cry out. “They can do radiation or chemo or something!”

  Tyler mutters out soft apologies. As if he needs to be sorry for this shit. I think I’m going to be sick.

  “Glioblastoma multiforme is an aggressive tumor. It grows and grows, damaging nearby nerves and brain tissues, causing temporary or permanent impairment of vision, hearing, memory, movement, and thoughts. Sometimes, the tumor causes swelling in the brain that leads to fluid buildup and directly disrupts brain functioning,” Torin continues, his mouth on autopilot. “Occurrence of frequent headaches and the headache worsens in morning hours. Frequent vomiting and nausea. Temporary memory loss due to growing tumor. Seizures in brain tissues and swelling. Difficulty to concentrate. Frequent changes in mood and rapid mood swings. Change in speech, vision, hearing, and movement. Feeling of paralysis in some areas of the body. Feeling tired and exhausted. Improper functioning of neurons and the endocrine system.”

  No.

  No.

  No.

  “Stop,” I plead.

  “Once the disease is diagnosed, then the patient can survive three months without any treatment. But with the treatment and medical consultation, the patient suffering from glioblastoma multiforme can survive anywhere from one to two years. Increased intracranial pressure and cerebral edema increases the death rate. The brain tumors that are caused due to glioblastoma multiforme are generally malignant in nature and grow aggressively—”

  “Stop!”

  Tyler lifts his head, his eyes bloodshot and his bottom lip trembling. No words come out.

  “Why am I here?” I demand, my voice cold.

  Torin stops blabbering facts and goes quiet, as if he too wants to know the answer.

  A tear rolls down Tyler’s cheek and it takes everything in me not to run over to him to comfort him.

  “Because he needs you. Who else will look after him when I’m gone?” Tyler asks, his voice hoarse.

  Gone. Gone. Gone.

  Inoperable.

  A
ggressive.

  Untreatable.

  No.

  “How long?” I choke out.

  Torin starts rattling off facts, but I scream at him to stop. Surprisingly, he does.

  Tyler swipes at his cheek. “It’s not that simple.”

  “How. Long?”

  “I’ve been battling it for a while now…” Tyler lets out a ragged sigh. “A couple of months left if I’m lucky.”

  I jerk to my feet, my own tears streaming down my cheeks, and point at him. “How could you do this to me? How could you let me come into your lives and love you knowing you would soon leave me?” My voice is shrill, hysteria taking over. “You will leave me alone just like she did. Everyone fucking leaves me!”

  “Casey, please,” Tyler begs.

  “Casey-Casey!”

  “I need to think,” I snap before running back to my room, blind with tears.

  From the moment Tyler told me why he was suffering from his headaches and his health had declined, I’ve become obsessed, learning everything I can. A cure. They cure diseases all the time. This is the twenty-first century. We have made great strides in medical advancement. Polio is nearly eradicated from the earth. AIDS is hardly spoken of anymore. And cancer isn’t always deadly if you identify it early on.

  Except my stubborn-ass brother didn’t identify it early on. And when he finally saw a doctor about it, it was spiraling out of control. Inoperable. But not just inoperable—untouchable. None of the treatment options would touch it. I’d held out hope, albeit a tiny ass sliver, but I still had hope.

  Until he showed me his brain scans. That shit is eating him alive. The growth from six months ago to three months ago was more than double. My stomach turns at knowing how much more it has grown since.

  My big brother is going to die.

  Soon.

  He’s expressed his wishes to not spend his last days sicker than he already is, going through chemotherapy. I wanted to argue until I researched and realized it wouldn’t help anyway. He was right. It would simply tarnish his last days.

  “Meow.”

  I open my eyes and stare up at my ceiling. Last night, Casey didn’t take the news well. After she ran and locked herself in her room, I went and checked on her through the wall. She curled herself into a ball on the bed—still wearing the dress that made me want to pin her to the wall and rub my body against hers—and cried loud, ugly sobs.

  It was heart-wrenching.

  My soul still reverberates with the echoes of her cries.

  Gutting. Emotional. Bleak.

  Everything in me screamed to pass through the wall, climb onto her bed, and pull her into my arms. She needs comfort and strength. Tyler has been so good at providing that to her because I can’t.

  What happens when he dies?

  She’ll leave.

  Panic rises in me like an epic tsunami ready to obliterate an entire country. Anxiety stabs at me. It rips me raw from the inside out. As if cued in to my distress, Misty, my favorite cat, hops on my chest and begins purring. Her claws retract in and out, catching on the fabric of my hoodie but not piercing my flesh below.

  I yank at my weighted blanket and pull it on over my body, covering me and my cat. Her purring intensifies as she makes herself comfortable.

  “Meow.”

  My phone pings and I read an email with some detailed, much-needed information. I knew it. I knew that motherfucker Guy was blackmailing Tyler. And now I know exactly why. It means I’ll soon be shoveling money Guy’s way as well until I can figure out what to do about all of this.

  “Meowwwww.”

  My two other cats, Rainy and Foggy, join us on the bed. The quieter cat, Foggy, curls herself up near my head, her purring the white noise I need to clear my head. Rainy paces along the foot of my bed, looking for a good place to plant his fat ass. I move my legs and he finally settles between my spread calves. With my three cats purring in unison, I’m able to slow my racing heart. I’m able to think without letting the panic pull me under.

  Casey.

  My thoughts go back to her.

  Beautiful, perfect Casey.

  She’d love my cats, this I know. I want to tell her about them. I want to drag her into my part of the house and show her one of the few places I can just be. One of the few places where I’m calm and free. Yet, still, I keep her at arm’s length.

  I fist my hands and close my eyes, gritting my teeth.

  Misty meows again and digs her nails in deep, the threat of her sharp nails making my breath catch. If cats could talk, she’d say, “Calm the fuck down, Torin.”

  I uncurl my fist and reach up to pet her. Her soft fur relaxes me. I stroke her until I find myself calming again. My mind conjures up fantasies of Casey lying beside me talking to my cats. Just the thought of her sweet, musical voice has my chest expanding with happiness.

  She can’t leave.

  I’ve felt better having her near. Like my body and my goddamned mouth aren’t working so hard against me. It’s like she holds the cure for me and all I need to do is lean forward and drink it all in.

  My phone buzzes from my pocket. Hoping it’s Casey, I yank it from my pocket and swipe the screen. Misty meows her apparent annoyance at my undivided attention no longer being on her.

  Tyler: What do I do?

  It’s not often my brother asks me for advice.

  Me: Don’t leave us.

  My eyes burn like tears might come out, but they don’t. Emotion still has trouble escaping my body. It stays trapped in like steam in a kettle—except this kettle doesn’t have any openings for it to hiss from. This kettle is solid and metal and impenetrable. An explosion with no hope for bursting past its confines.

  Tyler: I wish it were that simple. Fuck, how I do.

  Me: Why didn’t you tell me until the day I found you in your bathroom puking your guts up?

  Tyler: I just wanted to pretend it didn’t exist. That I didn’t have an expiration date.

  Me: So, you were just going to die one day and not give me a goddamned explanation?

  Tyler: Torin…I’m sorry.

  Me: Is that why she’s here? For me?

  Don’t lie, Tyler.

  Tyler: The way you looked at her—really looked at her—that day at the clinic, I knew. She was the key to unlocking a part of you. She did it with one look. One second, Torin. She stole you from inside yourself and drew you out. It was fucking amazing. I wanted to do that for you always. Bring someone into your life who could help you better than the therapies ever could. When SHE came along, it was fate. Don’t you see? And then…

  Me: She could take your place as my caretaker after you die.

  Tyler: It’s more complicated than that.

  Fuck yeah, it is. I’ve seen the documentation.

  Me: So explain it.

  Tyler: I thought you could love her.

  I frown at his words, definitely not expecting him to say that. It distracts me from my thoughts as I run after other ones. Warmer ones. Happier ones. I know I love my brother. It’s just something logical and engrained. We’re brothers. Family. Best friends. When I think about him leaving me, my body physically aches. My heart fucking hurts. That’s love, right? The textbooks don’t explain love in a tangible way. It’s all theories and feelings and shit I can’t seem to put my fingers on and explore. But with Tyler, love makes sense. Logical sense.

  With Casey, everything is different. And that, I don’t comprehend. She stifles my breath sometimes. Simply from looking at her. Like just her presence sucks the breath right from my lungs. My ears search the soundwaves on a hunt for a giggle or a sigh or her obsessive tapping. When she’s nearby, the hairs on my skin rise. A tingling sensation ripples across my flesh as though she carries an electric charge. Magnetic energy that makes my body react on a cellular level. Her scent is addictive. I’ve read about addicts. A cocaine addict desires the high. He snorts the substance into his nostrils and thrives on the way the overwhelming sensations surge through his bloodstream. T
hat’s how it is with Casey. She’s a drug you want to snort and get hooked on. But it’s her taste that maddens me most. The day I licked her neck, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Salty from sweat but sweet. Oh, so fucking sweet. I couldn’t get enough of her. I wanted to sink my teeth in and bite her. Shit, I did bite her. I wanted to devour her because she’s so goddamned lovely.

  Lovely.

  Lovely.

  Lovely.

  She’s different. Beautiful and perfect and mine. But is she? I don’t understand how her mind works. When her blue eyes glitter with emotion, I don’t know what goes on inside her head. I want to cup her cheeks and beg for explanations, but I never do.

  Tyler thought I could love her.

  I don’t even know what love is.

  But I could breathelicktastetouchsmellfeel her.

  I could do that all damn day.

  Me: I don’t know how to love.

  Tyler: Love isn’t something you can control. It controls you. Fills you up and infects every part of you until all you can do is just live and breathe it every second of every day.

  Me: Sounds like a disease.

  Tyler: Love is a cure.

  I knock on her door for the third day in a row, praying she’ll answer. I’m trying not to push, but I miss her. I want to see her. I fucking need to see her. When she doesn’t come to the door, I turn the handle. It’s unlocked and I let out a sigh of relief.

  Pushing into the chilly room, I frown to see the fire has died down in the fireplace. There’s a lump in the middle of the bed buried under blankets. I hurry over to the fireplace and make sure the flames are good and high before walking over to her bed.

  “Casey.” My voice is hoarse.

  She doesn’t answer, but I sense she’s awake. The air is still and quiet aside from the cackling of the fireplace. Finally, she responds, “Tyler, it hurts.”

  I clench my teeth to keep my emotion at bay. “I know it does,” I whisper.

  The bed quivers and then she lets out a gut-wrenching sound. Needing to touch her, I lift the blanket and seek her out. She doesn’t retreat from me, so I settle beneath the blankets, curling my body around her tiny one. The harder she cries, the harder I squeeze her. I wish I could make it all better.