But he doesn’t’ get it. I couldn’t be there for my family while focusing on myself. They needed me. “I know, but my dad— “
“I thought it was your brother,” he interrupted.
“I mean, it IS my brother, he’s the one that’s sick, but my dad needs me too. He’s had a rough time since my mom passed away.”
“You really think that your father and brother would want you to put your life on hold for them?”
His words were barbed with truth. Because no—my brother would hate that. It was the very reason he’d kept his cancer a secret. He didn’t want it to send us into a tailspin like my mom’s cancer had done.
He would hate knowing I was turning this chance down.
“Look, there’s no one else to send. I’m going to call the program and let them know that you’ve hit a small delay because of how last minute this opportunity was and have some minor things to get in order before you can leave. They can send the orientation materials over via email, and then if you fly out next week, you can read them on the plane and hit the ground running.”
“I don’t think a week- “
“You have a week to make the right choice,” he said. And the line went dead.
I groaned and dropped the phone back into the cup holder. I knew the call wouldn’t be easy, but I didn’t expect him to just… reject my choice.
I hate that I’ve disappointed the only person who had steadfastly believed in my career goals. My brother and dad believed in me in that way that family members do—that vague, “you can be anything you want to be!” sort of way.
The sort of loving, supportive statements that were both heartwarming and totally useless.
Strangely, some of the weight that had settled into my chest, lifted. The professor was right, after all. My brother would hate knowing I’d given this up for him.
I reached over, unrolling the window and letting the wind dry my tears.
I had a lot to figure out.
I walked into my house, thinking of Landon again. I wished I could be like him. He had left everything behind in order to make something of himself. Proved it could be done. And yet here I was, still paralyzed by indecision.
But it wasn’t just my voice, telling me to stay. Weeks before my mom died, I’d made her a promise. A promise to make sure my father didn’t hold so tightly to her memory that he couldn’t find a future without her—that I would remind him that she wanted him to be happy.
I promised that even as my brother built his own world, that we’d stay close, that we’d keep looking out for one another.
I couldn’t do all that in Dallas.
I stepped into the house, morning light filtering through the dust in the air. In the kitchen, I stood at the sink, staring out the window. I gripped the counter with both hands, as if I could steady my life as easily as my balance.
And then a sound behind me disrupted my thoughts. A groan, followed by the unmistakable sound of retching.
“Matt?” I said, my voice spiking. I rushed across the room, grabbing the door knob to the bathroom door. It didn’t turn in my hand, so I shook the door. “Matt?”
He threw up again, and again and again. “Matt!” I yanked on the door, but all I heard was another groan. The throwing-up stopped, but then it was only silence, and I wasn’t sure if it was better or worse.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, digging my phone out of my pocket.
Once again, I called the only person I knew I could turn to in this situation.
It took Landon only a ring to answer. “Hello,” he said, no trace of warmth to his voice. Fine, I guess I deserved that.
“Something’s wrong with Matt,” I said, stepping away from the bathroom door. “He locked himself in the bathroom. And I can’t get in.”
“Be there in ten,” he said, and then the line went dead.
I must’ve paced a hole in the floor in the ten minutes it took Landon to get there. Matt wouldn’t let me in the bathroom, no matter how many times I knocked. He did eventually mutter leave me alone so at least I knew he wasn’t dead.
Landon came inside and didn’t even acknowledge me as he strode past, knocking on the bathroom door again. Matt had been silent the last several minutes.
“Go away,” my brother mumbled, his words muffled through the door.
“It’s me,” Landon replied, his voice level and calm, betraying none of the panic I felt.
“Is my sister still here?” His voice was weak, barely audible even though I was standing right outside.
Silence fell. Landon pointed at me and then upstairs. “Go,” he mouthed. He held up a hand, as if to say five minutes.
I grit my teeth, annoyed that his presence was welcomed by my brother, but mine wasn’t. I obeyed, turning to the stairs and retreating to my room, just as I heard Landon say, “No, I sent her upstairs,” as if in response to another question from Matt.