by Xavier Neal
That’s the first light that’s filled this room in weeks. No, those aren’t solid walls. They’re just properly covered windows with remote control shades that do a helluva job making it difficult to distinguish the difference between night and day.
“Please tell me you’re not eating bonbons or hoarding Twinkies as well.”
“Go away.”
He continues walking across the hardwood floor of our downtown penthouse until he’s completely blocking the projection screen.
“Move.”
“Tell me you’ve at least left the couch.”
I attempt to look around him without answering.
“Kellan.”
The genuine concern in his voice forces my eyes to meet his. “I have.”
“Where did you go? Most likely not anywhere for work.”
Took a leave of absence. I’ve built a solid program with a second in command strong enough to hold it together until my ‘crisis’ has subsided. Ethan can handle the reigns until I am capable of functioning like a human being once more. And if for some reason he can’t, and my company tanks, then there’s another jewel of success my father can place in his metaphorical crown for taking away something else I love.
“The floor,” I casually answer. “The remote fell and when I rolled off to grab it. It didn’t seem necessary to get up again until I had to take a piss.”
“At least you’re doing that where you should.” His eyes glance around the long red sofa I’m on and the other to my left before briefly inspecting the matching oversized chairs to my right. “I don’t see puddles or a bucket, so I’m going to assume you’re at least making it to the loo.” He shoves his hands into his black suit pants pockets and lets his attention fall back to me. “When’s the last time you showered?”
I remain silent.
“Shaved?”
No reply.
“Eaten?”
My patience over the line of questioning begins to drop.
“Well I know you haven’t slept. I can see the bags under your eyes.”
“And I can see your eyebrows weren’t waxed evenly. What is your point?”
Like you didn’t notice.
“You can’t just spend the rest of your life avoiding reality and responsibilities because you’re heart broken,” he says, worry whirling around his tone. “You can’t just sit around watching marathons of this awful show and starving yourself.”
“Hey!” I point a stern finger at him. “Doctor Who is a great show-”
“It’s rubbish and the only reason you have a fondness for it is because Brie fell in love with it while she was still trying to understand the difference between Doctenn and the Brits.”
That’s not completely true. I did fall in love with it at the same time I fell in love with her, but it’s a solid show that has quite a lot of depth once you get passed the cheap props and terrible special effects.
Irritated more now than when he first arrived, I command again, “Go. Away.”
He sighs, “No.”
“Then at least move, so I can see the television.”
“Even if I move, I can still talk over it.”
“Drowning out your voice will be the easy part. Seeing through you is impossible. Now move.”
His eyebrows dart down. “No.”
I groan my displeasure, yet don’t bother moving my head from where it is lying flat against the couch cushion.
It’s fine. I have nowhere to be. Him on the other hand, he has a wife at home who will be quite upset if he doesn’t return. That or his legs will get tired and he will eventually move, crowning me victorious in this battle. Can’t win the war, might as well rain hell on the way down.
After a long lull, he tries again. “Your birthday is in a few days. Have you forgotten?”
The big 3-0. Earlier this year I imagined Brie and I would enjoy the over the top celebration and then sneak away in the jet for a tropical vacation. I envisioned her topless on our secluded portion of a private beach. Eating exotic fruits off her body and staying drunk on the flavor of her as much as the beverages they would be providing. Now? I most likely will not be attending without someone enlisting the help of a crane.
“The guests started arriving today.”
I continue to stare on unimpressed.
He rubs his chin and proceeds, “Soph thinks it would be a brilliant idea for us to have some brotherly time together, especially after our tiff a couple nights ago. She thinks it would be healthy for us to ‘bond’. She’s under the impression some kind advice from your older brother might cheer you up.”
“She’s wrong.”
Thoughtful. But very bloody wrong.
“So, for an early birthday gift from me, I thought we could grab a pint-”
“No.”
“A bite-”
“Not hungry.”
“And see the Nozbell art exhibit.”
My eyebrows twitch in confusion.
He pronounced that wrong for the record. Trust me. Over the past six months I dated Brie I learned the proper way to say more artist names than I even knew existed.
“I know you hate art, but…Brie doesn’t. I thought perhaps being surrounded by something the woman you love loves for your birthday would help with the burden of not being able to be directly with her.”
His logic causes the ache in my chest to deepen.
I had finally gotten that down to a light sting between episodes. Now it’s going to return with a vengeance. Way go to big brother! In honor of my birthday you come bearing balloons of suffering.
“Perhaps while we’re there, you can finally talk about her and start to actually deal with the aftermath of your fallout as opposed to hiding from it.”
My eyes fall shut.
“Or you cannot say shit to me the entire night and that’ll be fine too,” he rushes to insist. “At the very least, you will have left the penthouse and I can tell my beautiful, albeit overly bitchy wife, I gave it my best shot.”
I reopen them and question, “Did you just say bitchy?”
“Moody, would’ve been a better word for it.” Kris immediately tries to back pedal. “Her hormones seem out of balance to me, yet when I brought it up she gave me a horrific suggestion to what I could do with my observations.”
“She seemed all right at the event the other night.”
“Maybe to you or maybe both of you were so equally unkind to the rest of the world it would’ve been hard for you to notice.” Without leaving room for a retort he implores, “Now will you please get off the couch? Shower. Wash your hair. Shave. Throw on too much cologne or aftershave, and put on one of your St. Valmonte suits with a pair of Malencino, so we go can make fun of bloody portraits together like old times?”
Don’t push…I don’t want to go. The only thing I want to do besides the obvious hopping on a plane and flying across the Atlantic to demand Brie forgets everything my father said, is sit and watch The Doctor mope over his sudden loss of Rose. He understands my pain.
“Kellan,” Kris begs again, this time his shoulders dropping in defeat. “Please…”
With another groan of unhappiness, I cave. “If I must.”
He lets a smile cross his face.
“But I’m not doing all of those things you suggested. You get like two.”
Quickly he insists, “Shower and wear a suit.”
Wise choice since by showering it requires me to get off the couch…
“Fine,” I grunt again this time standing up.
On my way towards the master bedroom, my brother questions, “You’re really going to just let the mismatched suit and shoes comment, go?” When I pause to look over my shoulder he continues, “Since you were old enough to wear suits, you’ve always nitpicked inappropriate matches. Hell, even on my wedding day you told me I had on the wrong shoes.”
He did.
“Were you just not listening earlier or do you really not give a shit about that sort of thing anymore?”
W
ith one last shrug, I mutter, “I honestly don’t care.”
His mouth cracks open, but I return to the task of showering.
Why should I? At the end of the day a suit is just a suit. Having someone around who enjoys seeing you in them or wiping their hands on them is what makes the bloody things so much more. Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve begun to realize the true beauty in life isn’t made with the things people are so anxious to be surrounded by, so much as the people who prevent you from being trapped in the darkness the world has a habit of creating. Unfortunately for me, my beauty was taken, leaving only the objects that once brought me false joy to be the only beacon of hope I have left. Time to shower and put on the best ‘prince face’ I can muster up…Hm. Probably should brush my teeth too, right?
Kristopher offers me the beer he ordered from the bar. After I make no effort to reach for it, he pushes it closer and demands, “Take the bloody thing. If you don’t want to drink, then fine. Just hold it, so it at least appears you’re having a good time.”
I roll my eyes and force myself to do as instructed. “How long do we have to stay here before you feel you can tell your wife you tried without feeling like you’re lying?”
He gives his watch a quick glance. “At least twenty minutes.”
Apparently, that’s the minimal standard of time for anything to count as an event. We were only at dinner for twenty minutes before my big brother decided he too was not hungry. I guess the idea of someone watching him like an ape at the zoo changed his mind. He huffed and grumbled when I reminded him that dining out was his idea. I can barely stomach water let alone the idea of actual food. At this rate my entire closet full of suits will have to be retailored if I ever wear them again.
Kristopher has a sip of his martini. “What should we check out first?”
“The exit.”
“Kellan.”
I shrug my indifference.
It was worth a shot.
He stifles the urge to voice his irritation and tosses his head to the left. “Let’s start this way. Less crowded. Less opportunities to be trending again.”
According to the texts Soph sent me, people are now speculating that there’s jealousy between Kris and I over who gets to be the next king of Doctenn. There’s a throne of lies I’m happy not to sit on. The burden of being a son of the king is more than enough.
The two of us stroll along the path passing poorly constructed abstract paintings. As we pass each of them my brain helplessly drifts back to the night Hugh forced me to go to one of these to impress his girlfriend. The night I made twister jokes and poked fun at the absurd designs. The night my life completely changed without warning.
I’d do it all over again in heartbeat.
“Count Malgauv is letting his daughter come to your party. Emilee.” Once he receives no response he continues, “It’ll be her first time in Doctenn. She’s quite excited. She’s looking forward to meeting you.”
“I don’t care.” I turn my attention to him. “It’s not like I’m going to be there.”
His eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What do you mean you’re not going to be there? It’s your bloody birthday party!”
“And no one fucking asked me did I want one.”
“It’s not exactly an option, Kellan.”
“Nothing is an option in this family,” I growl. “It’s my birthday. If I don’t want to bloody go then I won’t. So, unless you or the king of this god forsaken country has a plan in place for literally dragging me out of the penthouse and hiring an entourage of people to dress me as well as make my limbs move, I won’t be attending.”
My body starts to move to the next exhibit when he states, “I get it, Kellan. You’re upset.”
I tilt my head at him in an enraged fashion.
“Life is not fair. This isn’t what you wanted, but this is what is happening. And I know you’re sad…I understand that-”
“No you bloody don’t!” I shout stepping closer to him. “You’ve never felt anything like this before.”
“I-”
“You have no idea how fucking miserable it is to simply exist. To wish you could stop breathing so your own heart would stop beating so maybe…just maybe the insufferable ache inside of you would be relieved. You have no fucking clue what it’s like to dread…absolutely dread…opening your eyes every morning, knowing there isn’t even a possibility that the one person you need in your life is actually going to be there.”
His lips seal shut.
“I have spent a significant fraction of my life creating hope for the hopeless only to be left without any for myself. Do not stand in my face brother and pretend you have any sort of inkling what it is like to feel this empty. This…destroyed.”
To my surprise, he nods his compliance.
Swiftly, I return to walking past the pieces of art work, the grip on the pint glass near shattering. All of a sudden, I abruptly come to a halt, which causes Kris to grumble something under his breath. I ignore him and use my free hand to point to the portrait created in various shades of blue. “Do you see that?”
“See what?”
I give him a quick glance. “Tell me you see that!”
“Stop shouting.” After a beat, he repeats, “See what?”
Rage runs rampant through my system as I completely turn my attention to him. “Are you messing with me or do you honestly not see it?”
Kris’ mouth bobs in perplexity. “I-I-I-I-I’m not sure what it is I’m supposed to be seeing.”
“Her!” My voice lifts. “That portrait looks just like her!”
“Her who?”
“Brie!”
You see it don’t you? The way those dark blue waves appear to be her hair and the very light blues mimic the shape of her face. Oh! And you see the way the teal lines are an identical match for her smile, right? You…You see those things. No? Well look again! Bloody look again.
He surrenders a hand to me and turns his head to stare at it.
There’s no agreement to my conclusion. The lack of understanding forcing me to snap louder, “Don’t you see it?!”
“I-”
“How can you not!”
“Stop shouting.”
“Stop telling me not to shout and look at the bloody portrait!”
“Kellan, calm down-”
“The bloody thing is the spitting image of her!” Additional furry grips me by the back of the neck. “I want that painting.”
My brother’s eyebrows lift. “Kellan-”
“I want that painting! I have to have that painting! It has to come home with me.” I scream again. Before Kris can object further, I bite, “You don’t want me to have her any more than father does, do you?”
“Now just wait a minute-”
“Do you?!”
“Kellan-”
“No! You may be able to keep us apart but you cannot stop me from purchasing the only piece of her I may ever see again!” My body brutally bumps against his causing his martini to splash on his shirt.
It’ll fucking dry. I don’t care about his shirt any more than I care about my own. I have one goal at this moment and it’s to find someone to purchase that piece of artwork from. It’s not enough it looks like her. It also proves the point she always knew would inevitably find me one day. Art is supposed to speak to you. And when it does, no matter how hard you wish you could ignore it, you can’t.
Jovi snatches another fry from my plate and smothers it in ketchup. Between bites she asks, “Are you gonna eat any more of these?”
“That was the plan…” I inform, leaning back in my patio seat.
She gives me a small apologetic face. “Sorry…”
“Why are you so hungry? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you each this much.” Suddenly, I ask, “Are you preggers?”
“No,” Jovi quickly denies. “I just…I haven’t had much time to eat in these past few weeks.”
I lift my eyebrows in curiosity.
“I love Merrick. I
mean, I really do. And I totally love living with him but…” Her pause is followed with her snatching another fry from my plate. “He’s definitely taking full advantage of the situation. Every chance possible if you catch my drift.”
Ah. Honeymoon apartment sex. Kellan and I barely got to enjoy those perks before we were headed off to a faraway land filled with beautiful scenery and a cruel king who couldn’t stomach the idea of me in his castle. Sounds like a fucked-up fairytale. Pretty sure Disney fans would riot. Or sue.