“All right. I was just trying to help. Did you come here to flagellate yourself?”
I kept pacing. I didn’t look at him. “Did I ever tell you what it was like to grow up with Ronnie as a brother?”
“Tell me?” he said. “Your mother and brother live across town. We dated for six months, more or less, and the first time I ever laid eyes on a member of your family was at the funeral. No, you almost never talked about them, except to say you didn’t want to talk about them.”
I grunted. I hated to hear my own words repeated to me, even though I knew they were true. I drank from the bottle. “Let me just say this,” I said. “Ronnie took up a lot of mental space.”
“Because of his disability,” Dan said.
“Because of that, yes. And because my mom was determined, absolutely determined, to give him the best life possible, she devoted herself to him. One thousand percent. I was closer to my dad. I’m more like my mom, but I was closer to my dad.” I felt like an idiot pacing. Every time I turned around I saw Dan’s books, his empty coffee mugs—all the sad remnants of a grad student’s life. I took my seat again, my back straight and rigid. I held the beer bottle in two hands. “My mom told me something once.”
“Something about Ronnie?” Dan asked.
“Something about me,” I said. “This was in high school, the first time Dad was diagnosed with cancer. He beat it then, but it came back and killed him later, when I was in college. When he was first diagnosed, we were all scared. We said the right things to each other, but we were scared. My mom and I were talking about family and caring for each other and how important it was to have children in your life. I was in high school. What did I know? I just listened. And then she told me that it was a tough decision for her and Dad to decide to have another baby after Ronnie, you know? Mom was forty-three when I was born, and that was just a year after Ronnie. The odds of having another baby with Down syndrome were still high. She said they almost didn’t have me.”
“So you were lucky. You were wanted.”
“Oh, yes,” I said. “Very wanted. Because you know what Mom told me during that conversation? She said the main reason they had me was to take care of Ronnie after they were both gone. Can you imagine telling a kid that?”
I drained the second beer. My head had started to hurt, but I didn’t want to switch to water. I felt like getting drunk. I waved the empty bottle around. “Any more where this came from?” I asked.
“There is,” he said, but he didn’t get up. “I’m sure your mom was just—”
“Don’t defend her,” I said. “You didn’t know her, as you pointed out. You can’t take her side.”
“I’m not taking sides,” Dan said. “I’m trying to understand. Are you saying you never felt close to your family or let them into your life because of this?”
I raised the beer bottle again. “Another round? Then I’ll tell you the rest.”
Chapter Twelve
Dan came back with two more beers. When he settled back in, he didn’t say anything. He just waited for me to go on.
I finally said it: “I used to hate my brother.”
Dan didn’t respond. He watched and waited.
“When we were kids, people looked at us wherever we went. I knew what they were thinking. ‘Oh, that poor family. That poor boy.’ And then Ronnie would chew with his mouth open, or he’d grunt when he should have talked, and that would only make it worse for me. I’d want to hide under the table, or just run away.”
“A lot of kids would feel the same way in your situation. I’m sure they have.”
“I used to wish for something,” I said. “After my mom told me why they had me, I used to wish that she would die. It would make sense for me to want her to stay alive because then she would be there to take care of Ronnie. But I used to wish she’d die so I could be free of my obligation to her.”
“And to Ronnie?” Dan asked.
I nodded.
“You know that’s illogical, right?” Dan said. “I mean, he’s your brother, so if your mom died—”
“I didn’t say it was logical, Dan.”
“Right,” he said. “Well, just because you have those feelings doesn’t mean you would really act on them.”
“But I did act on them,” I said. “I’ve been absent from their lives.”
“Well, I know all about that,” he said.
I turned to him. “What are you saying, Dan?”
“I guess I’m wondering what you’re here for,” he said.
“Dan, my mother died. She was killed.”
“I know,” he said. “I know. I’m just saying, E, that you don’t exactly let people in, you know? You’re not always there for others. At least not for me.” He held his hands out before him. “I shouldn’t be saying all this now. It’s bad timing.”
“Go ahead,” I said.
“I’m fine.”
“Go ahead,” I said. “I might learn something.”
He reached up and ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know what you’re here for. Do you want absolution? Or sympathy? I don’t see or hear from you for weeks, and then here you are on my doorstep. I know your mother died, but I had to hear about it from someone else.”
I felt my chin quiver. I bit back any tears, holding them in. I looked at the floor again.
“Do you want to hear the truth?” he asked.
“I thought I already was hearing it.”
“It’s possible if you were more involved with your family’s life that you could have done something. But that’s assuming your brother really did this, and that’s assuming there was anything to be done. You could have been right there, camped out in the living room, and the same thing might have happened.” He sighed. “Or maybe you would have been hurt too.”
He sounded concerned, as though the thought of me being hurt was painful to him. It was sweet to hear, even if he was mad at me.
“Thanks,” I said.
“It’s too late for your mom,” he said. “You can’t do anything to help her. But you can still do what she wanted you to do. You can still take care of your brother.”
“I’ve seen the will. It makes my uncle Ronnie’s guardian. And that makes the most sense. Paul and Ronnie get along well. Paul is patient. He understands what Ronnie needs.”
“Ronnie still needs you. You can play a role in his life. A big one.”
“Unless…” I almost couldn’t say it. “Unless the worst is true about him, the things the police say.”
Dan didn’t have any words of wisdom to share about that.
Chapter Thirteen
I woke up between the familiar sheets of Dan’s bed. My head felt foggy from the beer and the sleep. I rolled over and found the other side of the small bed empty. The clock read eight thirty.
“Dan?”
He came in the door dressed for school, which meant he was wearing a flannel shirt and ratty jeans. But he’d showered, and when he lay down next to me I could smell the shaving cream and soap. He wasn’t as dirty as he looked.
“I have to go in a few minutes,” he said. He put his arm around me and pulled me close. I drank it in. “What are you doing today?”
I yawned. “I think I need to get my life in order a little bit,” I said. “I’m trying to get back to normal. I’ve been neglecting school the last few days. I don’t want to get miles behind.”
“I understand that,” he said. “Do you need help with anything?”
“No, thanks. My nose is just above the water. I can keep it there.”
“You can always withdraw for the semester, or take an emergency leave. Everybody would understand, and they’d hold your funding for you.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” I said.