And then I heard the door unlock.
I sat on an easy chair upstairs and waited exactly five minutes, and then stood, ready to charge back down stairs. Only, before I knew it, Landon was there, hugging me. Stopping me from storming down and asking my brother all of the questions that had barreled through my mind for the last several hours.
“How is he?” I asked instead, accepting the comfort gratefully. Letting Landon wrap me up in a warm, secure hug.
“He’s fine. He just started chemo and he’s more than a little nauseous. It’s normal.”
Normal. I don’t want this to be our new normal. “He wouldn’t even answer the door. I thought he could be dying in there. I thought- “
“I know,” Landon said, firmly. “It’s not like that with him. He didn’t let you in because he didn’t want you to see him being weak.”
“I don’t understand why he’s trying to keep this a secret from me,” I said, twisting a charm bracelet around my wrist. “He can’t go through all the same things as our mom and have us not piece it together. He must know I’d figure it out eventually.”
Landon gripped my shoulders, turning to face me. Forcing me to stare straight into his eyes. He waited until I took several calming breaths before he spoke. “I think he’s hoping eventually comes later rather than sooner.”
I pulled away from him, plunking back down in the chair where I’d been sitting. “It’s not fair that this is happening all over again. “
“It wasn’t fair that it happened to your mom the first time, either. Cancer is a fucking bitch.”
I wanted to smile at his words. But I couldn’t bring my lips to curl. “Now what am I supposed to do? I’m stuck here. There’s no way I can leave as long as Matt is like this.”
“I know one thing you can do,” Landon said, starting to grin a little.
“Oh, and what’s that?” I asked, feeling like maybe he was flirting now.
“Come and work for me,” he said.
I laughed. “I’m done with the kiosk, Landon.”
“I don’t mean at the kiosk. I mean at the center.”
“Doing what?” I asked, throwing up my hands. “Wiping down treadmills? Sounds glamorous.”
He stepped back. “Is that really what you think my center is? Some glorified gym?”
“Yes,” I said, annoyed. “Maybe with some physical therapists or whatever. But how is it not a gym? How am I going to pursue my dreams by working at a sports center?”
He crossed his arms, looking more than a little insulted. “Sports medicine center,” he said, carefully enunciation each word. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
I planned to ignore him, but when he reached down for my hand and tugged me to my feet, it was like my body moved on its own volition.
I followed him downstairs, letting go of his hand just as I stepped out of the stairway. I paused when I saw my brother sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of something bubbling—Alka-Seltzer? -- on the table in front of him.
“I told you to drink that, not stare at it,” Landon said.
“You okay?” I asked, before my brother could answer. I searched his face for a softening of his eyes, evidence he was going to tell me the truth. This was his opening, as Landon put it, and he could finally tell me about his diagnosis.
He tried to grin, but it came out feeble, weak. “Yep. Guess I should’ve stopped after the sixth beer last night.”
I tried to laugh, tried to pretend I bought into his cover story, but it was too half-hearted to be believable. “There’re some crackers above the fridge,” I said.
But instead of getting them himself, Landon walked over and fished them out of the cupboard. Without a word, he navigated our kitchen, pulling out a plate and ripping open the crackers. He grabbed a fresh glass of water, setting it in front of Matt, beside the crackers.
Until that moment, I’d forgotten how our home had become like a second home to Landon. How he’d walk in without knocking, how he knew where to find the best snacks and the can opener and how to get our wonky TV to tune in to channel thirteen by smacking it on the side.
“Do you need anything else?” Landon asked. “I’ll stop by the store for Gatorade on the way back.”
“On the way back from where?” Matt asked, ignoring Landon’s question. “Where are you two going?”
I stared at the plate of crackers.
“Relax, Matt,” Landon said, his tone light. “I’m going to give her a tour of Prestige. She dared insinuate it was a mere gym. And you need to sleep off your hangover.”
He emphasized the last word, as if to challenge Matt. As if to remind him not to question Landon.
Matt’s eyes flitted between us, as if to measure the distance, the emotions that traveled back and forth.
“I’ll have her back in an hour, along with the Gatorade.”