by CORY CYR
He would blame himself. I knew him, he’d never survive without me, and now he’d have to. My dad had fucked both of us. How could I have not known? My mind ran rampant with us having sex and whispering words of love. I had marked my body with his name—I belonged to him. I started to cry again, and hysterical sobs of desperation racked my body.
I woke up in the dark. I must have cried myself to sleep. I leaned over and turned on the lamp next to the bed, then noticed that I was still in my clothes and shoes. I didn’t even bother changing, but I kicked off my shoes and slid under the covers. I just wanted to sleep and never wake up. I wish I’d never come home—I wish I’d never known.
I woke up to my phone chirping relentlessly. I grabbed my cell and saw that I had twelve text messages—eight from Shea and four from Trina. I also had seventeen voice mails. I put the phone down and sat up. My bladder was screaming with a sense of urgency, so I dragged myself to the bathroom. Once I relieved myself, I stared into the mirror. My eyes were still red and puffy, dark circles shadowed under them. I felt dirty, ashamed and sick. I shrugged off my clothes and stepped into the shower, but no matter how much I scrubbed my body, I would never feel clean again. I slipped on a pair of jeans and a sweater, then dragged myself back to the bed. I picked up my phone and began listening to my voice mails.
“Baby, where are you? What happened . . . I found the living room torn apart and I’m scared. What the fuck, Ryan? Where are you?” The next five sounded like the original. Each one, I could hear the strain in his voice. On the sixth one, his voice was panicked.
“Why’d you leave me? Jesus, Ryan, I don’t know what to do. Just let me know you’re okay. I can’t breathe, baby, please.” Tears rolled down my face as I listened. I could hear his voice cracking, soft sobs behind his pleading. He had no idea. He hadn’t found the envelope with the damning letter inside. If I had been smart I would have taken it when I fled, then he’d never have to know.
“Ryan, where are you? You need to call me—my brother is freaking out. He’s scaring the shit out of me—you’re scaring the shit out of me. Please I am begging you, please call me . . . at least let me know you’re safe.” Trina’s call also sounded frantic. The final voice mail was from her again.
“Listen to me Ryan . . . Andrew is ready to call the police, so you need to fucking call him or me! I don’t care which one—just call.” I could tell she was upset as well as angry. I had never heard Trina say the word “fuck” in all the years I knew her. I didn’t have the will or energy to face anyone, but I didn’t want the cops involved. I sent Trina a text and told her I was okay and I would call her tomorrow, and that I needed another day to sort things out. I’m sure she told Shea about my cryptic text message. I would call Trina, but I was too emotionally fragile to see Shea. I knew in my heart that he deserved an explanation, because he certainly wasn’t to blame for this disaster. My father did this.
Why didn’t he confess his big secret years ago? Before I fell in love with my . . . I couldn’t even say it out loud. I’m not sure I’ll recover from this. Maybe I should go back to New York and let Garrison have at me, maybe even taunt him to do his worst. Fucking hell, now I knew for sure that my mind had snapped and I was utterly broken—I had a death wish that I wanted Garrison to grant. My life couldn’t be fixed, my heart could never be mended, it didn’t matter what happened to me now because my father fucked me for any chance of happiness.
*****
I woke up at five in the morning. My stomach was growling because it hadn’t had food in over forty-eight hours, but I knew that whatever I tried to eat now I’d throw it up anyway. I felt sweaty and lethargic as I dragged myself into the shower again. As I stood under the hot water, I started to cry uncontrollably. I lathered up my arms and stared as I washed the left one. I watched as the soap trickled across the tribal lines and lay across Shea’s name. I really wasn’t going to survive this, I thought as I slid down the wall sitting in the shower stall, continuing to sob. I finally got out of the shower when the hot water began to turn cool. I wrapped a towel around me and combed out my wet hair. My face appeared pale and shallow, and the dark circles under my eyes made me look like a poster girl for heroin chic. Basically, I looked like hell.
I always knew I’d go to hell if I crossed that line with Shea—I just hadn’t realized that my father was the devil.
I called Trina two hours later.
“What the hell, Ryan? What is going on? Where are you?” Trina whispered. “Hold on, I’m going in the other room.”
“I . . . I have to go. I’m leaving . . . going back to New York,” I grated out, my voice hoarse from crying.
“What? No . . . you can’t! Why would you do that? Where are you?” Trina sounded panic-stricken.
“I can’t stay here anymore . . . I have to go,” I said, biting back tears.
Trina talked quietly into the phone. “I don’t know what’s going on, but tell me where you are so we can talk face to face.”
“No,” I whispered.
“Ryan, tell me where you are, please. Let’s just talk, and if you still want to go, I’ll drive you to the airport.”
“You have to come alone, and please don’t tell Shea. I can’t see him . . . please don’t tell him,” I begged.
“Okay, I won’t, but you have to know he’s out of his mind with worry. He loves you so much Ryan, and if you do this he’ll never recover—you’ll break him.”
“We’re already broken . . . forever,” I sighed. I gave Trina the address and she showed up thirty minutes later, carrying coffee.
“Here, I thought you could use this,” she said as she handed me a coffee. I could see Trina’s eyes as she assessed me from head to toe. “Ryan, what happened?”
I took the lid off of the coffee, and even though it smelled good, I knew my stomach would repel it. We sat on the bed.
“It’s bad, T . . . you can’t imagine,” I said, hugging my body.
“Did you and my brother have a fight? Did he do something? Whatever it is, Ryan, you two love each other. It can be fixed.”
My chin began to tremble as my body shook. I let out a loud sob that seemed to startle Trina. She put her coffee down and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tightly.
“What is it, sweetie? You can tell me—let me help you, please . . . ,” she whispered as she held me. After twenty minutes of crying, I finally was in enough control to reveal my nightmare to her.
“A man came to the door the other day,” I said as I saw her eyes open wide. “He was a lawyer, Trina, just a lawyer.” Trina’s body language somewhat relaxed.
“Was it about Garrison . . . did he find you? Is that why you’re running away?”
I got off the bed and started pacing the floor as I rubbed the back of my neck. “Trina, my dad left a will—an estate. It’s for me and my brother,” I admitted. My jaw clenched so tightly I thought I heard my teeth crack, and I looked away from her. Trina sat there with a stunned expression. I’m sure she was trying to comprehend my words.
“I don’t understand . . . what brother? You don’t have a brother.” As my eyes went to hers, I could tell she had a moment of clarity, a sudden realization. Her bottom lip began to quiver and she pushed herself off the bed.
“No! It can’t be true! How . . . when?” We both started crying as we held each other. “It’s not possible, I don’t believe it.”
“Trina, I know you know, deep down somewhere inside of you, that it’s true. Think about it. All the time my dad spent with Shea—”
Trina stopped me, “He spent time with me too, but that doesn’t make him my dad,” she reasoned as she paced back and forth in front of me.
“But not like he did with Shea,” I reminded her, pausing as I took her hands. “You never knew why your dad went after Shea and not you. Well, here’s your reason—he must have known. He had to have known.”
“It can’t be . . . it’s not true. I refuse to believe my mom and your dad . . . no way, my mom would never . . .
she would have been too afraid,” Trina said, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. I ran my hand through my still damp hair and tried to take a sip of the coffee.
“Evidently not. Fuck, Trina, this explains everything. Now I know why your mom flipped out about us being together,” I sat on the edge of the bed, putting my head into my hands. “How am I supposed to not love him? How do I do that? I feel dead inside . . . I wish I were dead.”
Trina kneeled down in front of me. “Please, Ryan, don’t say that. Oh God, we’ll figure this out, this just can’t be true. The lawyer told you this?”
“There’s a letter. I left it on the coffee table. I’m an idiot because I should have taken it—by now, Shea’s read it,” I said. “You need to check on him and make sure he’s alright.”
“Andrew will not survive this. He’s gone through so much, and you were the one bright spot for him, the one thing he always wished for and finally got. This will be too much,” Trina said as she handed me a few tissues she took from her purse. “You can’t stay here, and there is no way I’ll ever convince Andrew to leave your house, so you’ll stay with Quinn and me.”
I stood up, waving her off. “No way, as it is Quinn probably hates me since I dragged all my drama here from New York, and I can tell he doesn’t really approve of Shea and me.” I paused to blow my nose. “How’s he going to react when he finds out I’ve been fucking my brother?” As soon as the words left my lips, a feral cry left my mouth as my entire body shook with grief. I slipped off the side of the bed and crumbled to the floor. I clutched my stomach as I sobbed with complete abandon. Trina hooked her arms under my shoulders and pulled me up.
“Don’t worry about Quinn—he’ll help us. We’ll figure it out. If you’re alone, I’ll worry about you, especially in your state of mind right now. I need to know you’re safe. We have a nice guest room, and you can stay as long as you need. Please let me help you . . . You’re not the only one who needs answers, and frankly, if my mom wasn’t so unstable, I’d go over there and kick her ass,” Trina said, her voice filled with bitterness.
I thanked God for Trina’s strength and support, stuffed my dirty clothes in the bathroom into my overnight bag, and returned the key to the front desk. It was a quiet ride to Trina’s home. I was so tired and drained, and I just wanted to sleep so I could forget the train wreck my life had become. Quinn wasn’t home when we arrived, so Trina showed me to the guest room and helped me get settled. She told me to get some rest and she would wake me up for dinner. When she left the room, I put my ear to the door. I could hear her talking on the phone, but I couldn’t make out the words. After a few minutes, the conversation sounded heated, at least from Tina’s end. It got quiet and then a few minutes later I heard nothing. I wondered if she had called Shea and what they could have discussed. I moved to the bed and lay down, covering my entire body, including my head, with the blanket. I ached to be with Shea and fill the emptiness. What I felt should feel wrong, but I didn’t care. How was I going to unlove him? I hugged myself and closed my eyes, imagining the arms around me were his, and that he was whispering that it would be all right, that we would be okay. I choked back a whimper because I knew nothing would ever be all right again.
*****
I must have slept for hours because it was pitch black when Trina came in to wake me. I went into the bathroom and splashed water on my face, then knotted up my hair in a messy bun. My face looked pasty and drawn. My eyes were swollen and my lips were cracked—dry from no water. I hauled myself out to the dining room. Even as my stomach growled, the food smells made me queasy. Trina motioned to a chair and I sat down.
Quinn was sitting directly across from me, reading the paper. As soon as I sat down, he folded up the paper and looked at me. I was surprised to see sympathy in his expression. He reached across the table and took both of my hands in his, causing my cheeks to warm.
“Before everyone goes non compos mentis, we need to make sure this is true.” Quinn paused, and I waited for his explanation. “Just because a document makes a claim doesn’t mean it’s accurate. We need to get this information verified.”
Trina began filling the water glasses, and then she put down a plate of warm French bread. My mouth began to water as I smelled the bread. I wanted to eat but wasn’t sure I could keep it down. Quinn, seeing my indecision, broke a piece of bread off the loaf and handed it to me, his eyes encouraging me to eat.
“Tomorrow we’ll go to the hospital so you and Andrew can get blood tests, and then we’ll take it from there.” I felt panic overcome me at the thought of seeing Shea. I couldn’t see him, there was no way. As I jumped up quickly, my nerves getting the best of me, I knocked my chair back, causing it to crash to the floor. I croaked out an apology as I ran back into the bedroom. Trina came in a few minutes later with a plate of food and water.
“You have to eat. You can’t afford to lose weight,” she said, putting the plate down next to the bed.
“I’m not really hungry.”
I propped the pillow under my head as I turned to my side. I felt the bed sink slightly as Trina sat down.
“Either way, we have to know. These DNA tests normally take at least five days, sometimes a couple of weeks, but Quinn’s mom is on the board of directors, so she was able to pull strings. We should have the results in seventy-two hours,” Trina reassured me as she pulled the blanket up over me. “Quinn didn’t give her specifics—he just said it was for a friend of the family, something to do with an estate inquiry. Try to eat and get some rest. Things will be better tomorrow.”
I turned over, looking at her. “I know you don’t really believe that, and it doesn’t matter, because nothing is ever going to be the same again,” I murmured.
Chapter THIRTY
I dreamed Garrison was suffocating me as Shea watched. I tried to scream, but no sound would come out of my mouth. I couldn’t catch my breath and darkness was swallowing me up. I finally found my voice and screamed until my throat was sore. I felt arms around me, sheltering me in warmth. A veiled voice caressed my ear as my body fell limp.
“Baby, wake up.”
When I opened my eyes I saw Shea holding onto me, his head bent with his lips by my ear. I squirmed to get out of his grasp, wiggled free and pushed back against the wall. Even though I knew I was awake, my breath was stifled. I felt a pain in my chest, and panic gripped me as my eyes filled with tears.
“Dammit, Andrew, I told you it was not a good idea,” Trina said, reprimanding her brother as she stomped into the room. She then sat down next to me, brushing my hair out of my eyes. “It’s okay, Ryan . . . you were having a bad dream. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stop him.”
Shea glared at his sister. “Fucking leave now,” he said angrily through his teeth, as he pointed towards the door.
“Don’t talk to me like that. Geez, you’re an asshole, you know that?” Trina huffed as she got up off the bed and closed the door behind her. Shea stayed, leaning up against the far wall. He looked terrible. His face looked worn and tired, dark circles under his eyes marred his face, and his clothes were wrinkled as though he’d slept in them. Still against the wall, he squatted down so we were at eye level.
“Baby, it’s not true. I don’t give a shit what that guy said . . . I’d know it, I’d feel it . . . it’s not fucking true,” he vowed, never taking his eyes off of me.
“What if it is, Shea? What if it is?” I sniveled, inhaling a sob. He stood up and began taking steps towards me.
“It isn’t true—you don’t think I’d know if you were my sister? There’s no fucking way, and I’m sure as hell not going to take some stranger’s word for it. All I do know is that most of my life I’ve loved you, and until we have proof, I’m not willing to accept this as fact,” he stated as he sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. “We’ll get tested, but I’m telling you right now that it’s not true.”
“What if you are my brother?” I choked back a cry.
Shea shook his head. “I don’t fucking know,
but what I do know is that a piece of paper is never going to change the way I feel about you.”
“I will always love you, Shea, but that test will change everything. We could never be together like that, not if you’re my brother.”
Shea looked defeated because he knew, deep down, if it was true then it would change everything, regardless of what he wanted or how he felt. I watched as he wrung his hands.
“You think after waiting for you for thirteen years, I’m going to give you up that easy? I meant it when I said that you’re mine! I also told you, you are my oxygen—you are the reason I breathe. You sustain me— make me whole. Everything I’ve ever had to go through . . . I would do it all again, if I knew that you were waiting for me at the end. I told you baby— I’m your last and you’re my life.”
“Please, Shea, just go! I can’t take it . . . please . . . ,” I bellowed as I curled into a fetal position.
“I’ll be in the other room; I’m never leaving you, Ryan,” he swore as he opened the bedroom door.
My chest felt constricted, and my heart began to pound furiously, making it hard to breathe. I’d never had a panic attack, but I was sure this was what it felt like. I shook uncontrollably as I cried. Please, dear God . . . make it not true . . . make this a mistake.
Trina came in a few minutes later, coaxing me into the shower with the smell of hazelnut coffee. We had to be at the hospital at 2:00 p.m. I cleaned up and threw on jeans and a sweater. I had to borrow some boots from Trina, since I had taken a limited amount of clothing and shoes when I’d left.