His brows lowered with understanding. He nodded toward the front door. “You want to go get some air with me, Lo? My set doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.”
“Yeah, for sure,” I replied. My hands were stuffed into my jeans pockets, still in fists from the way Erika spoke to me in the car minutes before. I couldn’t even truly be mad at her about it, though. The person I was when I left town years ago, was the only person she ever knew me to be. In her eyes, I was the drug addicted asshole who screwed up their lives and broke her sister’s heart when I never called back. In her eyes, I was the jerk who almost killed Kellan and Alyssa the night I was messed up and took the wheel into my hand. I was the person who was responsible for Alyssa losing our child. In Erika’s eyes, I was Alyssa’s and Kellan’s baggage that they both deserved to unload.
In her eyes, I was the me that I’d tried so hard to never become again.
Kellan and I stepped outside, and the chill of the fall night hit our faces quickly. He leaned against the brick wall of the bar, with his left foot resting against the stones and his eyes closed, as his head tilted toward the sky. I reached into my pocket for a cigarette, and paused.
Shit.
No smoking.
I leaned against the wall beside him. “How are you holding up?” I asked, pulling out my lighter and flicking it on and off.
“Honestly?”
“Yeah.”
He opened his eyes, and I saw his fight to hold the tears back. “I was practicing the guitar, and my hand started to tremble. The other day it happened too, and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I think it’s all in my head, because I’m afraid of the chemotherapy. I’ve read a lot online about chemo brain. That’s where a person kind of loses some cognitive functions. So I might not even be able to play the guitar anymore. Or write lyrics. I mean…” He bit his bottom lip and inhaled deeply. My tough, always strong brother was slowly cracking. And I couldn’t do anything about it. “I mean…music…that’s me. That’s my life. I spent so much time running away from it though, and now if I can’t play the guitar…”
“I’ll play for you,” I said, and meant it.
He snickered. “You don’t have a musical bone in your whole freaking body, Logan.”
“I can learn. And hell, remember when you learned to cook after my dad broke my hand?”
“When I made the turkey for Thanksgiving that one year?”
I chuckled. “And you yelled, ‘Who knew a damn turkey needed to be thawed for more than four hours?!’ as you tried to cut into it.”
“But seriously! Who knew that?”
“Um, everyone with a brain? I mean, to give you credit, I’d never seen a turkey that was completely burnt on the outside and completely raw inside. That takes talent. What did Ma say about it?” I asked, remembering the few good memories we’d shared.
We spoke in unison, “What type of fuckery is this?! If you wanted to kill me, you could’ve used a butcher’s knife. It would’ve been less painful than this damn turkey.”
Kellan and I both laughed this time. It wasn’t even that funny, but we were cracking up, laughing together so hard that our ribs started to ache. Tears of memories running down my face.
When we stopped, a cold silence filled the space, but at least this silence wasn’t lonely, because my brother was with me.
“How was she today?” Kellan asked about Ma.
“Not your concern, Kel. Seriously. I’m back, so I’ll handle her. You have a lot of shit on your plate. It’s my turn to help.”
He tilted his head in my direction. “Yeah, but what about you? How are you holding up?”
I sighed.
I couldn’t tell him how close I was to using.
I couldn’t tell him how heartbroken I was to see Ma in the shape she was.
I couldn’t fall apart when he needed me the most.
I had to be strong for him, because his whole life was spent being the person who saved me. I wasn’t a hero, I wasn’t a savior, but I was his brother—and I truly hoped that would be enough.
“I’m good, Kellan,” I said. He didn’t believe me. “I am, I promise.” He knew it was a lie, but he didn’t call me out on it.
“I’m really worried about Ma. And I’m not sure how to help her…And if I’m gone…” He paused his words as his inner demons and fears accidentally slipped from between his lips.
Pushing myself off of the wall, I stood in front of him. “No. No. You don’t get to say that kind of shit, okay? Look, you’re here. You’re getting the chemotherapy. It’s going to work. Okay?”
His doubt was seen fully in his stare.
I lightly shoved him in his shoulder. “You’re not dying, Kellan. Okay?”
His jaw trembled, and he slightly nodded. “Okay.”
“No, say it like you mean it. You’re not dying!” I said, heightening my voice.
“I’m not dying.”
“Again!”
“I’m not dying!” he spoke into the cool air.
“Again!”
“I’m not fucking dying!” He shouted it the last time, his arms reaching out in victory, a smile upon his lips.