On Solid Ground

by Melissa Collins

  Holding my hands up in mock surrender, I put on a serious face, playing along. Saluting her, I say, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Beck scoops her up into his arms and whisks her off to the kitchen to make me breakfast. While they’re out there, clanging together every dish Chloe owns, I check my voicemail.

  After I heard from Chloe that she was staying out for the night, I turned the thing off, not wanting to be distracted at all while Beck and I talked last night. After it powers up, a few notifications pop up on the screen. Rubbing the disbelief out of my eyes, I actually have to focus in on the name and number on the screen.

  No, I mutter to myself.

  It’s not lost on me that I’m having this much of a shocked reaction at receiving a phone call from my brother. I’m sure other people talk to their siblings all the time. They probably even have really close relationships with them. Maybe they’re even best friends. But none of those things come even remotely close to how I would describe my brother and me.

  Dialing into the voicemail, my mind drifts, wondering what the hell he could be calling for. Even in all my years in the service, we only spoke on the phone around Christmas and birthdays, and even those events weren’t guaranteed phone calls.

  “Just wanted to touch base and let you know I’m in Long Beach for a meeting today. Stopping by to see you before my flight leaves tomorrow morning. See you then.” The line goes dead and my heart leaps into my throat.

  Here.

  Today.

  “Shit,” I curse, stumbling out of bed. Literally tripping over Tonka, I fall on my face just as I hear knocking on the front door. “I’ll get it,” I call out, but my words are muffled as Tonka licks my face.

  By the time I make it out to the living room, Beck’s hand hovers over the doorknob. With the words, “No, leave it,” stuck in my mouth, Beck opens the door to reveal my perfectly pieced-together brother.

  “Oh, I uh, must have the wrong apartment,” Lance begins to explain before he sees me walking to him from behind Beck.

  “Lance.” My voice is as shocked as my eyes. “What are you doing here?” I ask, moving in front of Beck who just stands there, as confused as I am stunned.

  “Didn’t you get my message?” Though his question is addressed to me, his eyes never leave Beck, scouring him over from head to toe.

  “About two minutes ago,” I huff, running a hand through my hair. “Now’s not a good time. Can I meet you a little later?” Trying my best to get him out of the doorway proves pointless as he pushes his way in.

  “No,” he explains curtly. “My flight leaves in just a few hours. This is the only time I have for you.”

  “Ha!” I burst out as I close the door. “That’s pretty fucking comical. This is all the time you have for me and I’m just supposed to magically be available for you.”

  “Why? Do you need to go to work or something?” There’s condescension in his questions and damn him for being two inches taller than me. It offers him the privilege of actually looking down on me.

  “Look, Lance. I told you, now isn’t a good time.” I try my best to remain patient with him, but honestly, he’s being a pompous asshole right now.

  “And I told you,” he gets in my physical space, looming over me, “later doesn’t work for me either.”

  Sensing the tense atmosphere of the room, Beck ushers Violet back into the bedroom. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the television click on, the sounds of cartoons playing through the tube. With me and Lance locked in a heated stare, Beck’s return into the room goes entirely unnoticed.

  It isn’t until he drops a hand to my shoulder that I recognize he’s back. Though I flinch, nearly shrugging his hand off my body completely, he remains standing by my side. “What’s going on here?”

  “I could ask the same thing.” Lance’s words are filled with disgust, and in all the years I felt distant from my brother, it was never like this—like we were so utterly disconnected only numbness existed in the space between us.

  “Dax, what the hell? Are you seeing him?” Beck completely misreads the situation, outing me before I can even get a word in.

  Lance’s face pales. His mouth agape, I watch as Beck’s words swarm around him. Pointing a finger at me, he tries to speak, but nothing comes out at first. “You’re . . .” it’s a question, left unfinished because he seems already to know the answer.

  “Beck, this is my brother, Lance,” I explain, an odd feeling of calm supporting me. “And Lance, this is Beck.” In a move of courage I never would have thought myself capable of, I reach down for Beck’s hand and twine it together with mine. “Yes, we’re together.”

  The briefcase falls from his hand and Lance sucks in a deep breath as if my admission actually knocked the wind out of him. The noise of metal hitting hardwood is enough to send Tonka running toward me, inspecting the scene. Lance backs away from Tonka, despite the fact that he stops when I tell him to.

  “Hey,” Violet protests, “are we gonna make pancakes or what?” Stomping her little feet out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen, she’s totally unaware of the seriousness of the conversation.

  Lance bends to gather his papers as Beck pulls me and Violet to the side. Handing Violet a bowl, he tells her to keep stirring just so she stays occupied while we talk. “What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly. “I can stay or go. It’s up to you.”

  I love him for letting me choose, for not forcing me to slice open the vein of all my secrets to Lance right here with Beck watching. I love that he’s not pushing me to be who he wants me to be in this moment, but that he’s letting me make the choice he feels will be best for me. I love that I know whatever I choose, he’ll still be there for me.

  Realizing all those things at once isn’t easy. In fact, they almost knock me flat on my ass, a stumble, which Beck misreads for an impending attack. “Should I get Tonka? Are you feeling lightheaded? Do you want to sit?” he rambles on, frantically reaching for a chair to slide under my ass.

  Taking a seat, I rest my head in my hands, letting the chaos that is my current situation calm, at least marginally. In the span of less than five minutes, I’ve just told my brother I’m gay—something I’ve hidden from him and my family for as long as I’ve known it myself and I’ve just told myself that I’ve fallen in love—something which I never thought would happen again.

  “Yeah, maybe give us a few minutes.” My mouth parched, the words feel like sand stuck in my throat. “Just give us some time and I’ll call you when we’re done.”

  Beck nods, a sad but supportive smile pulling on his lips—lips I wish I could get lost in right now. Because when I’m with Beck, all the craziness seems to go away.

  Catching sight of Lance over Beck’s shoulder, I know that kissing him now isn’t a possibility. So, with a gnawing ache for my new life growing in my gut, I watch Beck and Violet pack up their things, walk out the door, and leave me behind with the part of my identity I’ve tried so long to escape.

  When I hear the soft click of the front door latching closed, I kick out the other chair from under the table, offering it for Lance to sit and talk. Rather than sitting across from me, and talking like grown men, Lance holds up a single hand in protest. “No, I’ll stand,” he explains from across the room, leaning up against the counter.

  Chuckling cynically, I mutter, “You know you can’t catch it. It’s not going to rub off on you or anything.”

  “Look, I’m not here to talk about that.” The last word falls from his mouth like a curse.

  “It’s not a disease, you asshole.” In an instant, all the anger I’ve felt for my brother over the years—for him being the perfect model to whom I could never live up to, for him never being there for me—bubbles to the surface and boils over, thick like lava, threatening to burn down everything in its path. “I’ve been gay my whole life. It’s not like it’s new just because you know about it now. It’s always been there. I’ve just never told anyone about it and seeing how you’re reacting to it
is the perfect explanation for why I never said anything. To know that even my own family wouldn’t accept me–”

  “Dad’s dying,” he interjects, anger covering his words. Oddly, I can immediately tell that he’s angrier over the fact that I’m taking up his precious time than he is about Dad dying. “I came here to tell you that.” There’s a childish I told you so quality to his words, as if his news is more important than mine.

  “What?” I feel the world spinning around me. Lying across my feet, Tonka perks up his ears at my tone.

  Angrily, Lance drops both hands to the table, making it shake on its unsteady legs. “I said,” he seethes, mere inches from my face, “Dad’s dying.” Shoving off the table, he spins away from me, picks up his briefcase, and without another word, he silently walks out of my life.

  A million and one thoughts race through my head. Should I call home? And say what? Sorry for being such an ass and leaving you while you’re dying. By the way, what’s going on with that?

  Besides, if I call, I’ll more than likely have to deal with my mom, and she’ll just cry. I can’t deal with that in person and it’s even worse when I’m on the phone. There’s nothing that makes me feel more helpless than to know that she’s upset and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.

  Knowing I only have two options for help narrows the list of who I should call. I try Chloe first, figuring she already knows about me and my inability to open up to my family. Plus, they love her. If I can get her to come home with me, maybe it won’t be so bad.

  I dial her number, hoping I’m not waking her up too early. “Hey,” she answers on the first ring.

  “Hi, what are you doing this week?” I blurt out, not bothering to let her get any more than a greeting in.

  “Well, good morning to you, too, sunshine.” She laughs lazily, the sleepy sound still in her voice.

  “Sorry, but really, what are you doing?”

  “Um, working, like most normal people. Plus,” I hear the ruffling of sheets in the background as she moves around. “I didn’t get to tell you my big news.” Her voice rings through the line with an exuberance that’s unnatural for this early in the morning.

  “Big news?”

  “So last night, I thought Devon and I were going out to celebrate my promotion.”

  “You were promoted?” Wracking my brain, I scour through our recent conversations trying my best to recall whether she even said anything about being up for such a thing.

  “Yes,” she sighs, suggesting she had in fact mentioned it at some point. “But anyway,” she pushes on. “I thought we were going out to celebrate my promotion, but Devon proposed! I’m getting married!” she shrieks into the line.

  “Chloe, that’s great.” Shamefully, my excitement does not mirror hers. With every word she said, all I could hear were Lance’s—Dad’s dying.

  “You okay?” Keying into my sullen mood, her tone changes.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Look, I need to head home for at least a few days. Just wanted to call and let you know. I’ll talk to you soon.” I end the call before she can ask anything more because honestly, I can’t get into it right now.

  I need to figure out what’s going on with my father. He can’t be sick. He can’t be dying. This can’t be my reality and for some reason, I don’t have to accept it until I’m face to face with him.

  With only one option left, I call Beck, hoping he can help me. “Hey,” he answers right away. “We’re right downstairs. We’ll be right up.” He rushes through his words, hanging up with the sounds of his feet on the metal steps clanging in the background. He pushes through the door just as I move to open it, nearly tripping over me as he races into the room. “What happened? Did he say anything else?”

  “I have to go home.” Beck’s face falls, thinking the worst. “It’s my dad. I need to get the first flight out.”

  “Yeah, of course. Okay, give me a few minutes and I’ll have me and Violet all packed and ready to go.” In a flurry of activity, he gathers her toys up into a pile before moving to the kitchen to clean up the mess.

  “We’re going on a plane?” Violet jumps up and down excitedly, her voice a burst of happiness. “I always wanted to go through the clouds. It’s going to be so cool.”

  “Beck.” Maintaining as much calmness as I can, I try to pull him away from his hurried frenzy. He ignores me, carrying on, entirely focused on his task.

  “I can get Ty to cover the shop and I’m sure Lexie will help out. We’ll have to stop and get Tonka a crate, unless you’re leaving him, but I doubt that,” he talks aloud, not to anyone in particular. “Nikki doesn’t get out for another two weeks so I have plenty of time where that’s concerned. Shit,” he curses, pinching his eyes closed. “An apartment. I need to find a bigger place before she gets out. Hold on, let me think,” he continues to ramble on, completely ignoring my attempts to get him to just listen to me.

  “Beck.” Something in my tone forces him to look up at me. “Please stop.” He straightens his back, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

  “What?” He shoots me a sidelong glance, his eyes narrowing on me.

  “It’s just . . . I need to . . . about going home, I need to do it alone. Without you.”

  Looking on, I watch recognition slowly transform into sadness on Beck’s face. “Oh,” he sighs, deflated.

  “No, it’s not like that.”

  Holding up his hand, he doesn’t let me continue. “No. Just stop right there. You go. And I’ll stay. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

  “But Beck, that’s not it at all.” Moving closer to him, I step into his space. “You said it yourself. You have all this shit going on with Violet and Nikki, and I don’t even know what I’m walking into at home. Besides, they don’t even know about–”

  “Are you going to tell them?”

  Even though I have the best of intentions, the slight pause in answering him is all the answer he needs.

  “I won’t hide who I am from anyone,” he adds, his tone filling with sad dejection. “You can’t be with me one minute and then be ashamed of me the next.” He steps past me, brushing my shoulder. Looking back over his shoulder at me, he says, “I’ll wait down in the Jeep. You can figure out a flight when you get to the airport. There’s a Petco on the way. We’ll stop for Tonka’s crate.” His shoulders slump as he turns away from me. Scooping up Violet and her belongings, Beck looks as broken as I feel.

  Needing to focus my energy on getting home, I push down my feelings. All I can do at this point is hope that when I come back, he’ll be here for me.

  “Hey Dad,” I say as cheerfully as I can, sliding the chair up next to his bed. “How you doing this morning?”

  Even though it was difficult to understand him, he could at least speak after his first stroke. That happened just a day before my brother came to get me. By the time I’d made it to the hospital, he was stabilized and aware of what was going on.

  Later the next day, he had his second stroke. That one left him completely incapable of speech. That’s when the reality of malignant, inoperable brain tumor came to life. Lance was right. He was dying. And there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do about it.

  Two weeks ago, I had no idea what I was walking into, but I knew it had to be bad.

  Standing outside Dad’s hospital room, I couldn’t bring myself to walk in. Cowering away from my family, and from the new reality that my father was sick, I hid in the corner of the small waiting room outside the ICU. Lance blasted through the room, setting Tonka on high alert. He must have seen me out of the corner of his eyes because he stopped in his tracks, and walked over to me.

  “You came home,” he mused pointlessly. “I figured you would have stayed away.”

  “What the hell do you know? Of course I came home. You told me he was dying. How could I stay away from that?” My feet bounced nervously, my elbows resting on my knees. “What I don’t get,” I asked quietly, before raising my head to look at him, “is why you felt t
he need to come all the way out to California to tell me about it. Did you do it because you wanted to hurt me?”

  Shocked, he looked at me. “Seriously? That’s what you think of me?”

  “Have you ever offered me anything else to work with? You’ve never liked me and if your reaction to Beck was any indication–”

  “Look,” he stood from his seat, obviously annoyed by the direction in which I was taking the conversation. “I’m not getting into any of that. You do what you want to. You want to know why I came out there to tell you?”

  Nodding up at him, I could already tell I wasn’t going to be happy with whatever his answer would be.

  “They knew about the tumor about a week after you left, but no one wanted to tell you. Mom and Dad were afraid of your PTSD and they didn’t want you to stress over something they weren’t sure about. I was out in Long Beach on a business trip when he had his first stroke. Mom called me in a panic and I promised her I would tell you in person.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes as if that would actually wipe away what he saw that day. “I came to your place because I didn’t want you to have to deal with the news alone.”

  “Lance,” the conciliatory tone in my voice did nothing but make him step back from me, holding his hands up in defense.

  “Look, I don’t want to get into it here. I reacted poorly to you and your . . . to you and Beck. I can’t say I’ll ever get used to it, but it’s your life.” Weighted down, by what I wasn’t entirely sure, Lance dropped back into his seat. “I know I haven’t been the best brother.”

  A huff of disbelief slipped out of my mouth. It wasn’t completely unintentional. Figuring I might as well take his olive branch, I mumble, “I guess I haven’t tried much either.”

  “No time like the present then, huh?” he laughed.

  He actually laughed. Even though he’d been my in my life from the very beginning, I honestly couldn’t remember more than a handful of times he’d actually let his guard down. When we were kids, it was like he was a forty-year-old trapped in a thirteen-year-old’s body. And there were even fewer times when we actually had meaningful conversations. There was a very good chance that was our first.