Brigs is my brother, and I immediately feel bad that I haven’t gotten in touch with him upon getting back. We’ve had a pretty good relationship, though I put him—and Jessica and Donald—through hell when I was younger. It’s only recently that he’s pulled away more than I have. His wife and child died three years ago in a horrible car crash, and he hasn’t been the same ever since. I understand him, though I can’t say I understand his exact grief—nor would I want to. But I get why he’s distancing himself from everyone around him. It’s not just the pain of loss. He blames himself for the accident since they had a fight beforehand. I never learned what the fight was about, but according to Brigs, it was enough to make him think it was all his fault. Sometimes I want to reach out to him, to tell him I know what guilt is, but I don’t have the courage to even bring up that shit with myself.
“Hey, Mum,” Brigs says, kissing Jessica on both cheeks. Though I call them my parents, I’ve never been able to call them Mum and Dad. I’m not sure if that’s a defense mechanism or what.
Brigs walks in the house and eyes the rest of us in surprise. You can see my cousins in Brigs, and vice versa. He’s tall and athletic, though looking quite thin as of late, with vivid blue eyes that I can’t describe as anything other than haunted. His cheekbones are thanks to Jessica, sharp and angular. When he’s feeling particularly angry, you definitely want to clear the room. I can silence someone with my fists, but he can silence a room with one look.
“Lachlan,” he says, and there’s a gaiety to his voice that wasn’t there before.
I get out of my chair and give him a hug, the old slap on the back.
“Good to see you, brother,” he says, looking me dead in the eye.
“Same to you.”
He looks over my shoulder and raises a brow when he sees Kayla. “And who is this, then?”
I can’t help but beam proudly at her. I probably look quite the fool, but I don’t care.
“This is Kayla. She’s from San Francisco.”
“Is that so?” he asks, and gives her a nod. “First time in Scotland, yeah?”
“It sure is,” Kayla says.
“And you have this ape as your tour guide? I should show you around, yeah? Show you the real Scotland not seen through the eyes of a hothead rugby player,” he says with a big grin. It takes him from sinister to jokester in a flash, and I can see Kayla’s shoulders relax.
“Brigs,” Jessica warns. “Be nice.”
“Nice is a four letter word,” Brigs says, and luckily everyone laughs. It’s nice to see him happy, and for a moment I realize it’s probably nice for everyone to see me happy too.
Soon we gather around the dining room table while Jessica goes about preparing the dinner, a succulent roast duck that Donald says he shot in the Highlands last weekend on a hunting expedition. The wine comes out. It takes a lot out of me, but I decline and have a glass of mineral water instead.
The conversation then moves on to normal topics. Donald discusses his work with the Lions Club, Kayla talks about housing in San Francisco, and I say a few things about rugby practice. Brigs is ever quiet, more so than me, until Jessica starts dishing out the sides and brings up the fact that he’s got a new job.
I don’t make too big of a deal about it because that’s just the way that Brigs is. He lost his job as a teacher after the accident, and has been looking for work ever since. I was never worried—he’s a shrewd guy and a hard worker, he was just going through a lot. But Jessica is bursting with pride. I can tell it makes him uncomfortable.
“Congratulations,” I tell him. “It’s about time. Here’s to that.”
And maybe I’ve said the wrong thing because his eyes narrow sharply and he raises his glass. “Here’s to me? No, no. Here’s to you, Lachlan.”
I frown and he continues, completely sincere. “I’m serious. Really, I’m serious. I don’t think we’ve ever really toasted to Lachlan and the person he’s become.”
There’s a worm of unease in my chest.
Brigs looks at his parents. “Really, I don’t think we have. I think we just opened our arms up to Lachlan and brought him back in, but I don’t think we’ve ever really told him how proud we were that he was able to beat his addiction.”
The globe stops spinning on its axis, just long enough to make me feel sick.
“Brigs,” Jessica warns, in barely above a whisper.