The Brother

by K Larsen

  “It’s rather annoying when you get all wise on me.”

  “It’s that word a day calendar. Makes me smarter I think.” I laugh as Dr. Richardson points to the small square calendar on her desk that I replaced this past January for her. “Listen,” she says when my laughter dies down. “Let’s work this out another way. If you tuck your embarrassment aside, do you want to see Liam again?”

  “Yes.” My answer rushes from my lips.

  Dr. Richardson smiles. “Good. Let’s begin there. So you start over. Go on a proper date. What do you need from him to let him inside your walls? Not sexually, Nora. Sex and intimacy are not synonymous. You can give your body away without ever letting someone in your head or your heart.”

  I slip my hands beneath my thighs and bite my lip. “I don’t really know him. We don’t really know each other. We haven’t talked much about our lives. Just little bits and pieces, but I guess if I felt like I knew him better, I would feel less nervous around him.”

  “Trust is essential. That is a great observation. So, a step forward would be?”

  I dislike her open-ended questions. “To get to know him.”

  “Without?”

  “Being intimate?” I state, but my voice tips up at the end, making it sound like a question.

  Dr. Richardson grins at me. “Well that would be the ideal scenario. I’m sure lust makes that difficult.”

  “So, homework for the week, is to go on a couple dates and not sleep with him.”

  Dr. Richardson smiles at me. “That’s the idea, yes. I realize that as a young twenty-something, that doesn’t sound appealing, but I do recommend it.”

  “Har har.” I stand and adjust my shirt. “Have you visited Amelia lately?”

  Dr. Richardson shakes her head. “Would you like to go with me on my next visit?”

  “I would.”

  “Remember, Nora, you are always you, even in a relationship. A man should never define who you are, nor should you feel like you exist only as an offshoot of him. Two individuals make a relationship. Two. Not one. Be you.” She walks to me, and throws her arms around me. I hug her back tightly. When she untangles herself from me she says, “I will text you when I plan my visit to Amelia.” I nod and exit her office.

  The afternoon sun is strong and the heat on my skin makes me feel invincible. Summer is a good season for me. The gray of winter makes my anxiety spike. Anxiety is a tricky issue to deal with. One moment I feel fine. Confident and strong and upbeat, and the next, I am sure the world is ending, that I’ve offended someone to the point of no return, or I am an utter failure, unfit to even exist. There is no rhyme or reason to it. I know, logically, rationally, in my brain, that the feelings, the panic, are irrational, but I have no control of it. Once the physical symptoms set in, my brain follows suit, regardless of what I attempt to remind it or tell it.

  My therapy with Dr. Richardson is helpful in that it allows me a sounding board and perspective when I lack them. I know Liam is aware that I am ... plagued with something, but I dread having to admit just how much it affects my life and if he wants to pursue me more—our relationship. Thinking about how to best acquaint him with me is difficult. I am and have been, surrounded by women who understand who I am. Lotte, although to a lesser degree, has some acute anxiety. Eve suffers regularly from panic attacks but is open about them and talks about them. Me, I like to stay quiet. Aubry and her Mom understand feeling panic. They can relate to it. They can remember feeling it when they realized I was missing. And even the peripheral people in my life have been trained to deal with such issues. Agent Brown and Detective Salve and Dr. Richardson. Dr. Richardson gave me a weighted blanket for Christmas. It rotates through our bedrooms regularly. If it’s not me who needs it, it is Eve or Lotte.

  So I have been sheltered by these people and now I have to be around people who may not understand or be supportive and it terrifies me. Being rejected or used or talked about negatively terrifies me.

  I stop before yanking open my car door and shake my head. I’ve just rambled. Gone on a full blown tangent in my mind. It is these moments that force me to wonder if I am sane. I tilt my face to the sun and let the warmth penetrate my skin until I feel as though I have soaked up all I can take.

  I am tucked into my window seat reading, when my phone buzzes. It is a text from Liam.

  Only a thank you?

  I furrow my brow as I type out a response.

  What do you mean?

  I set my phone aside but his response is nearly instant.

  I thought maybe the spoon/ice cream would have gotten me more than a thank you.

  I chuckle and try to think of a witty response. I end up typing out, Would a date be better?

  My screen doesn’t even have time to dim before his text appears.

  I thought you’d never offer. What would make you happy?

  Reading, I think. Reading makes me happy. Being in the garden. Cooking. Yoga. None of those things make very good dates. I blow out a breath.

  Do you like fairs?

  N.E.L. volunteers are running a dunk tank at the local fair over the weekend. It’s not exactly my idea of a great date, but it is public and a start.

  I like fried dough. Fairs seem to be the best place to find it.

  My lips tip up at the corners. His answer is cute. Even if he doesn’t love fairs.

  Great. Pick me up at seven, Friday?

  I wait, but no text comes through. I put my phone in my lap and pick my book up again. It is not long before I am lost in the pages of the story. It is about a girl and a boy who continuously find each other through every life they’re forced to live. It makes me wonder about reincarnation and past lives and soul mates. It is hours before I realize I have a missed text.

  Deal. Can’t wait.

  Liam

  She’s sitting on the stairs of her front porch in jean shorts that show off her long legs and a T-shirt that looks soft and well worn. Her pert tits push the fabric just enough that the lace pattern of her bra is visible. Her hair is braided and hangs down over her left shoulder. If I fuck this up, my time with Nora will be over. This is my last chance to hook her. I can sense it. There is a scruffy looking mutt laid out next to her. She shyly smiles at me, while petting the dog.

  “This must be Burt?” I ask as I approach. Nora nods. Truth be told, dogs make me nervous. “Friendly?”

  “Very,” she says. I sit on the top step. Burt the dog, between Nora and me. She smiles at me.

  “You don’t strike me as a dog person,” I say.

  “I wasn’t but Burt here swayed me. Dr. Richardson suggested a pet in our household. It’s been proven to lessen anxiety.” I pet the dog.

  I raise an eyebrow at her. “Really?”

  “We’ve had him for six months now and I have noticed a calming effect. It’s not a cure but it helps in managing.”

  “Who is Dr. Richardson?” I ask.

  “She’s my therapist.”

  “I feel like there is so much I don’t know about you,” I say.

  She regards me through narrowed eyes. “I think starting over was a good idea. I know nothing about you either. Not really and I think that the limerance between us will only morph into more, if we take our time.”

  “Limerence?” I ask.

  Nora grins. “Sorry, I’m a logophile. I have a thing for words.”

  “That’s a first. I thought I knew all the different kinks and fetishes out there, but you got me.” She laughs and shakes her head at me.

  “No, no, if it were just the sound of words I liked, you know, to be considered a fetish of some sort, you’d call that eutony.”

  Listening to Nora spew words I’ve never heard before, like they’re as common as pie, makes me hard. The words, they roll off her tongue. She takes her time with them. I think perhaps eutony is for me.

  “Okay. Back up. Limer-whatever. What does that mean?” I ask.

  “Limerance. Being infatuated or obsessed with another person,” she says a
nd looks away from me. I reach over the dog and hook her beneath the chin with my index finger. Her eyes meet mine. The dog’s do, too.

  “I like limerence,” I say. I drop my hand. “So words. Big words. That’s your thing?”

  “Yeah. Thinking of them. Learning them. Pronouncing them. There is a beautiful structure to words and language that is comforting to me.”

  “What else, Nora?” I ask.

  She shakes her head and pushes to her feet. “Come on, Burt.” I watch as she puts him in the house and turns to me.

  “Now, it’s your turn,” she says. “What is Liam Lockwood about, besides music?”

  I extend my hand and she takes it as we descend the stairs. “I don’t know. What do you want to know?”

  “You must have something to tell,” she says.

  We walk down the sidewalk, hand in hand toward the park where the fair is happening. Her hand is soft and slight in mine. We can hear the noises from the fair from here but the sidewalk is mostly empty outside of us.

  “I run my dad’s company. It’s not my dream job but I don’t know anything else.”

  “Where’s your mom?”

  “Dead,” I answer.

  Nora stops and looks at me. “Mine, too. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s been just me and my father since I was a boy.”

  “At least you had him. My parents died together. Car accident.”

  “Who raised you?” I ask.

  Nora lets out a small laugh as we continue toward the park. “My aunt for a little while. She was young though. Didn’t want to be a mom. Once I was in high school she took off. My best friend’s mom took me under her wing when I’d allow her to. I’m sort of a self-sufficient loner, if you haven’t noticed,” she says.

  “You? A loner? That’s ridiculous,” I joke. “You’re the most social person I’ve ever met.”

  When Nora laughs earnestly, the sound inspires joy. It also inspires my cock. It jumps to attention, as if she’s stroked it’s fragile ego.

  “You’re funny,” she says. The Ferris wheel comes into view as we cross the street.

  “Have you always lived here?” I ask.

  “Yes. My parents left me the house. How about you? Always been in that mansion?”

  I roll my eyes at her. “No. I like the location though. It’s far enough away from my father that he doesn’t stop by unless necessary and close enough to work that I don’t loathe my commute.”

  “Where did you grow up then?” she asks.

  “Boarding school with Mike in Massachusetts.”

  “Wow. Did you like it?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know, Nora. It’s complicated. My father and I don’t have a great relationship, so, it was for the best, I think.”

  Nora nods and squeezes my hand. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “You weren’t. I just never know how to feel about my childhood or explain it really.” Little does she know I am still haunted by the memories of living with Holden and my mother. That I’m still picking up the pieces of growing up with my father. Abuse came in many forms, from many people for me.

  “However you feel is valid. Explanation is unnecessary. If you had said my childhood was complicated, and I’m not over it, I would have understood.”

  Now it is my turn to laugh. “Nora, you’re an odd duck, you know that?”

  “I’m aware. But that is my burden to shoulder.”

  “It’s not a burden. Do you like fried dough?” I ask, as we pass the first food truck. She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head.

  “I used to but since ...” she bites her bottom lip and looks to me. “I prefer fresh foods now.” I want her to say it. I want to know all about her time with Holden. What he did. Who he was. The things he liked, but I only smile and nod at her. I watch her face as we wander around the small town fair. I remember the first time I came to a fair after the mountain. I remember thinking there were so many people. There was too much noise. Too many smells. Too many bright lights. I felt claustrophobic in the middle of a field full of people and rides and food. Nora’s face is flushed. Her eyes dart everywhere. Her hand squeezes mine.

  I tug her hand and lead her to the Ferris wheel. There’s no line. There never is for the Ferris wheel, the bastard child of fair rides. I hand the attendant a twenty dollar bill because we don’t have tickets and I don’t want to stop to buy some. He grins and waves us forward and into a car.

  Once we’re seated, I tuck Nora under my arm. “The view from the top will blow your mind.”

  “Oh?”

  “Trust me,” I say.

  “I’m not sure you’re trustworthy.”

  “You’re a smart woman.” I grin at her and dip my head, letting my lips brush hers. Not a kiss. Not even a half kiss. An almost kiss. I look up and point. Her eyes follow my hand. She gasps and leans forward.

  “That is breathtaking. Stellar. Look at the town,” she breathes.

  “I told you.” She snuggles into the crook of my arm after turning left and right to take in the full view.

  “So, what else?” I ask. She looks up through her lashes at me.

  “What else, what?” I want to dip down and kiss her but I don’t.

  “What else about you?”

  “I don’t know. I’m quiet. I always have been. I’m in therapy for …” She sighs and looks out over the town as we crest again. “I took a job tutoring. When the job ended, I wasn’t allowed to leave. He kept me hostage for a little over six months.”

  I feign surprise. “Jesus, Nora. That is terrifying.”

  Her face wrinkles, giving away just how torn she is about the situation she lived. “At times, yes. I had developed feelings for the guy before the job ended. Before he kept me. I don’t know how to say this, Liam, I loved him. It was wrong and he did terrible things to me but I did not hate him. In the end, he made me choose. I would have loved him but he made me choose—Charlotte or him. I never had someone choose me as a child, I couldn’t do that to her.” She looks out over the town skyline, lips pursed together.

  I pull her to my chest. “I can’t imagine. But I’m sure it’s all very complicated. Emotions are tricky beasts. Is that why you run N.E.L.?” Nora’s skin is soft under my palm. I relish the feel of her tucked into my side. The neon lights from the rides cast her face in a healthy glow and her hair color is accentuated by the lights on the poles of the Ferris wheel.

  “I started N.E.L. Not alone. Eve and I. We’re passionate about it. My time has been split lately though. I’m trying to write a memoir of my life. Of what happened. But it is hard. What about you? What exactly do you do for work?”

  Nora pulls away from me and I swear I can feel the absence of her skin against mine in my veins. “Lockwood Enterprises deals mostly in commercial real estate deals. Multimillion dollar deals.”

  Nora nods. “Siblings?”

  “No,” I answer. “You?”

  “No. My family is Lotte, Eve and Aubry.”

  “And Burt,” I say.

  Her eyes widen and she laughs. “Did I forget the dog? I’m a terrible fur mother.” The Ferris wheel spins us around again and slows as we approach the bottom.

  Nora

  When we exit the Ferris wheel, Liam takes my hand again and laces his fingers through mine. I have never been a ride person, but Liam seems to understand what I will enjoy. I think once, when I was little, I rode a Ferris wheel, but that was so long ago, I had forgotten the fun of it. The sensation of being in the air. The breeze across my collarbone. The view from the top. How all the people below look like little ants furiously moving about. I liked the way Liam’s arm felt slung around my shoulders. The scent of him mixed with fresh air.

  “I don’t want to go home yet,” I say.

  He grins at me and tugs my hand. The fair grounds are crowded and it sets me on edge. The cacophony. The bodies and eyes all vying for space. I am relieved when he leads me along the path that follows the river. Only the occasional lamp light illuminates our walk. The lights
and noise of the fair are distant now as he leads me up a small berm. We aren’t too far from my yoga studio when he stops and pulls me flush against his chest. I peer up at him.

  “Look,” he says. He is staring at the sky. Occasional thick clouds make the otherwise clear sky look ominous. I inhale sharply. The night sky is glorious. It makes me miss the mountain. I push away from him and lie prone in the grass. The sky is full of pinprick sparkles. Glitter. Stars. My stars. Holden’s stars. I close my eyes and let Holden drift from my thoughts.

  “What are you thinking about?” Liam asks.

  “The past, I guess.” I wonder briefly if Liam craves nature and silence the way I do.

  “Sounds dangerous.”

  I roll my head to the side and face him. “It is.”

  “Know any good words for the past?”

  “Not that mean, ‘the past’ but to describe mine, sure. Tristful, hiraeth, exulansis.”

  Liam chuckles. “Sorry I asked. I have no idea what any of those mean.”

  “Your homework is to remember them long enough to look them up.”

  “I’ve already forgotten them,” he admits.

  “You’re the worst,” I say and laugh. His arm snakes under my head and I allow myself to snuggle into his side. Rest my head on his chest. His fingers massage my scalp. His heartbeat thumps steadily in my ear. His breath moves in and out rhythmically. Could this be real? I wonder what kind of life we could have together. Is that bad? Do all women do this? Is vorfreude common or am I again fixating on something unhealthy. Would he understand my needs wholly and without judgment? If I let him in, will he respect my ups and downs? Rubatosis sneaks up on me. If Liam notices, he does not make a show of it. He plays with my hair. My elastic is long gone. My braid undone. His fingers comb through my locks gently. He does this until I am no longer aware of my pulse. Of my heartbeat. It is only his in my ear again. I clench my thighs together to alleviate the sensation building there.

  “What’s going on in here?” he says and taps my noggin.