For him, yes. Maybe even for me. But not for Jonah. Never for Jonah. And that realization just kills me a thousand times over. Because Kellan, without his true memories in the forefront of his mind, will never miss the brother that he’s shared his thoughts and life with for nearly twenty-one years. For him, Jonah will simply cease to exist. But for Jonah, he’ll always have that hole; he’ll always know somewhere out there is his other half. My pain will never remotely come close to his.
“I wish,” I tell him, “I wish oh-so-many things. I have so many regrets, so many what-ifs. But I will always wish for your happiness. If you think this is the best, that this is your chance at happiness, I will support you. I only ask that you think it through carefully.”
He lets out another breath, smaller and surprised.
“Your leaving will possibly lead to your happiness,” I continue. “that much is true. And gods, I hope it does, if you do choose to leave. But you need to consider that you will be leaving behind so many people who love you very much. Whose lives will be greatly affected by your loss. Your brother ... your mother ...” Hot, stinging tears threaten to blind me, but I wage war and hold them back. “Your best friend ... your coworkers ... your friends and family ...” I tell him, and then selfishly, “and me. And on a lot of levels, I get why you think this is the best option for you, but you’re sacrificing too much.”
“The thing about sacrifices, C, is that sometimes they go both ways.”
I’m a dog with a bone, though. “You mean a lot to many people who will be devastated to lose you.”
He looks away, into the distance of trees and peoples lives who don’t realize ours are about to change so drastically. “I know. Believe me, I know.”
“But,” I continue, “you’ve sacrificed so much of your happiness for me and your brother, and it’s broken my heart over and over again knowing that. You deserve happiness, too, Kellan. Gods, you deserve it so very much. So, if you feel you can’t find it here ...” Air is hard to come by as I tell him one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to say. “Then I will support your decision.”
His hands tremble as he tugs at the cuff on his wrist. “You have to promise me something, C. You have to promise me you will be there for him every step of the way. That you will be a rock for him in the coming months, that you will let him know it’s okay to feel what he needs to feel. Don’t let him shut down.”
It’s my turn to look away as tears hammer at my eyelids in efforts to slide down my cheeks. Who will be there for him? Who will be his rock, if not Jonah?
“You have to promise to always put him first from now on. That you won’t leave him like I’m going to, like our parents and uncle and aunt did.”
It takes every last bit of strength in me to not flat-out break down in public. This is so unfair. How has it all come down to this?
“My brother is the strongest person I know,” he says. “And it tears me apart, knowing I am leaving him behind. That I’m hurting him yet again. That he constantly suffers needless guilt over things beyond his control. But Chloe, I can’t think of any other way to fix all of this. The three of us ... we’re trapped in this situation. The only way out is for one of us to leave. And that person has got to be me.”
Why does it have to be him? Why should he sacrifice everything?
“When you brought me back ... you finally gave us the solution. My Connections to you two are broken. If I leave, if I ...” His swallow is audible. “When I die, then it won’t affect you any longer. You’ll miss me, yes ... but it won’t be the same. Not without the Connections. You two have a shot now at your happy ending. And, whether or not I deserve one, so do I.”
“Of course you deserve one.” Despite all my efforts, my voice cracks and breaks, all thin glass threatened by hurricane force gales. “The very best kind of happy ending. Don’t ever think you don’t.” My happy ending, I think, should never come at the expense of his own. How could it ever be a happy ending at such a cost?
A hand touches my arm; I open my eyes and find him tilted toward me, his striking blue eyes so solemn for such a sunny day. “This is the only way I can let you go,” he whispers, and my focus falls to those lips of his that have done so many wonderful things to me. “Because if I don’t leave, I will always want you, Connection or no.”
Just like I would always want him, Connection or no.
“I love you,” he tells me, “but more importantly, I love my brother more than my own life. Please help him understand that this is the way it has to be.”
I nod, and force myself to stay strong even though I want nothing more than to let it all go.
His hand leaves my arm; tingles—not so savagely delicious as before when we shared a Connection—linger behind. And we sit there in warm sun and silence, the distance between us already growing.
He breaks the news to the rest of the family the next night.