Finding Spring

by B. E. Baker

  “You won’t ever get it, because you’re the older brother.”

  “I can’t change when I was born,” Luke says. “Do you resent that I own half of LitUp? Because I'll sign it over to you right now. I admit I haven't done nearly as much as you have in the past few years. I’m sorry if that seemed unfair.”

  “It's not about the money,” I say. “Not at all. This was about me, not you.”

  Luke stares at me while my stupid, cliché breakup line hangs in the air between us. He sits down and puts his head in his hands. “So you want to dissolve our company?”

  I yank a chair out and sit down next to him. “No, nothing like that. I love our company. I'm excited for our new launch.”

  “Then what is really going on?”

  “I know we're in business together, but you've always been the boss. At the end of the day, even when you're not around, people look to you for final decision on everything.”

  “Fine, so I'll assign five percent to you. Then you're in control.” Luke leans toward me. “I would have done that ten years ago. I don't care, Paul. If you recall, you're the one who insisted that I have fifty-one percent to begin with.”

  I run my hands through my hair in frustration. “I know I did. It's not about the percentages. We started the company with your idea. I shouldn't have even gotten forty-nine percent. I hid this from you because I wanted to do something myself, create something of value on my own. And I was afraid of looking like an idiot if I failed miserably without you.”

  “I’d never think you were stupid,” Luke says. “Even if you started something and it flopped. Businesses fail all the time. We got incredibly lucky with LitUp. I thought it was everything we ever wanted, but I guess not.”

  “I love doing things with you, but I wanted to prove I could do something without you too. I'm sick of being your business plus one. Can’t you try to understand that?”

  “Um, even before Mary came along, I never felt like that about you,” Luke says.

  “Hilarious. Yes, make a joke about the real feelings I'm sharing here.”

  Luke leans back in his seat. “I'm sorry. I am trying to get what you're saying, but it's hard. You're my brilliant, accomplished little brother. You have always been the smart one, the one everyone wanted, the scholar. I’ve never had any desire to do anything without you. I like working with you every single day. Even when Beth died and I couldn't stand to go into the office and sit down at my desk like I had when she was alive.” Luke presses his fist against his chest. “It hurt me physically to not be working with you. I missed you. It just hurt more thinking about how Beth was never coming back.”

  “I haven't been through that kind of heartache,” I say. “So I can't relate to that, but you've never been the tagalong little brother. You didn't grow up with parents who constantly said, 'Luke this, and Lucas that.' It was like I wasn't even there sometimes. I'd show them my painting or my paper from school and they'd be like, 'oh that’s cute mate, but look at Luke's marble sculpture he whittled from a hunk of rock with his pocket knife on his lunch break.'“

  Luke opens his mouth and closes it again. “Uh, you never painted and I certainly never carved anything out of stone.”

  I want to pull all my hair out. “You're missing the point. No matter what I did, you'd already done something better. And it was easier for you, and you did it with better hair.”

  “Okay, let's say that's true. You're the one who got into Harvard, not me.”

  I stand up. “You didn't even apply to college. You went straight into trade school.”

  “Mom and Dad couldn't pay the bills, Paul. I didn't have a choice.”

  “I know you didn't,” I yell. “And you let me have a choice, and then you gave up everything to come out here with me, and you didn't pretend not to be Australian just so you could fit in. You didn't bite down on your tongue so you wouldn’t scream every time the people around you had life so much easier than we ever did. You didn't resent them and hate them for their entitlement and their wealth. And you were so awe inspiring that a Professor moved heaven and earth to get you into college six years late. That's how wide a shadow you cast. Can't you even see that?”

  Luke doesn't say anything. He stares at me, his face practically devoid of emotion. I hate Luke's infamous poker face.

  “Well, I've had about enough of that.” Luke and I both startle when our dad shuffles across the empty dining room. “You two are acting like a bunch of whiny, snot nosed brats.”

  “Sorry Dad,” I say. “I thought you were already headed—”

  “Back to that nursing facility? They can wait. I needed to talk to my sons, who apparently can't handle things like men yet, even though they're plenty old enough.”

  “I didn't hit him for lying to me,” Luke says. “And he's telling me how he feels as clearly as any preteen girl would.”

  “Men don’t whinge about their feelings,” my dad says. “Just punch him already.”

  “Excuse me?” Luke asks.

  Mary practically jogs toward us. “I’ve really tried to stay out of this, but I’m going to interject really quick. Please, please don’t punch Luke. We’ve got wedding photos tomorrow.”

  “I don't want to hit him,” I say. “I just want to say I’m sorry. I made a mistake because I wanted to do something to make you proud, not of us, but of me, Dad.”

  “I was proud of you. Before I found out you'd been sneaking around and hiding things from your family,” my dad says. “Now I'm not proud. I'm annoyed.”

  “I've got three great offers on the table,” I say. “I'll just sell my product and close up shop, okay? Trig told me which offer's the highest, so—”

  “I'm sorry.” Luke leaps to his feet. “Are you telling me that Trig knew?”

  I close my eyes. “I needed help figuring out which option was the best and—”

  Luke stands up and puts his arm around Mary. “I'm done talking about this. You figure out what you need, and maybe we can talk about it after I get back from my honeymoon. I'm not dealing with any more of this today.” Luke moves away from Mary and toward me. He stops less than a foot away. “But if you can't keep the peace around Trudy tomorrow.” Luke shakes his head. “If she seems distressed by any of this, or if you badger her in any way, so help me, you'll get kicked out of your own house and you'll miss my wedding. How's that for casting a shadow?”

  Luke takes Mary's hand and they walk out.

  I sink into a chair and lower my forehead to the table. I’ve been so selfish, doing my own thing while LitUp should've had my full attention. Luke's come up with idea after idea and split the proceeds with me. Now that I have one or two of my own, I start my own company, unwilling to share.

  I'm a selfish, narcissistic baby.

  I should be worried about how mad I just made Luke, but I'm not. He's mad now, but he always cools down fast. I bet he’ll have forgiven me by tomorrow. He didn't even punch me, which tells me he’s mostly just stressed about the wedding and leaving his kids for a week with our cousins.

  No, Luke doesn't worry me, but Trudy does. She's the smartest woman I've met in years. She shone like a diamond tonight, a blue-eyed diamond, and when she walked inside, I felt like my deepest dreams were coming true. Somehow, she came to the wedding to be my date. When she realized I was Paul, and I realized she was Trudy, I wanted to punch my fist into a wall. Why didn't I tell her last night? I was so close to doing the right thing and I fell short. Again.

  I'm such a jerk.

  And now she's going to go work for friggin' James Fullton the Fourth. They'll probably get married and have three more kids just as cute as Troy. It’ll be all my fault if she does.

  My dad slaps me on the back. “You finished crying like a little girl yet?”

  I forgot he was here. Again.

  “Dad, can you please not right now? It's been a really long week.”

  “Your brother isn't really mad,” Dad says. “He just doesn't understand you sometimes.”

 
And my dad does? “Yeah, I know.”

  “Your Uncle Edward is a doctor,” Dad says.

  “Uh, that's nice.” Dad does this sometimes. He gets confused and says a lot of things that make no sense.

  “I drove delivery trucks, and Edward had not one, but two degrees. And he always made a lot more money than me, and had a way bigger house.”

  Or maybe he is making sense after all.

  “I understand,” Dad says. “You did what you had to do. But now that you've done it, does it feel good?”

  I shake my head and fight back tears. I'd rather Luke break my nose than break down and sob like a baby in front of my Dad.

  “Because that work and money crap doesn't matter. Your Uncle Edward was an alcoholic, and his wife left him. He was a mess. He never had any kids. I never made quite enough money, and your mother had to work as a bookkeeper so we didn't get kicked out of our apartment into the street. We might have been fine if we hadn't had kids. But we had one, and we loved him so much we had another.”

  My Dad grabs me with his knobby hands and looks me in the eye. “I have never regretted having two kids. I have never regretted driving delivery trucks, or missing out on time with me mates. Your mum never regretted it either. You were the joy in my life, in our life. I'd do it all over again tomorrow.”

  A tear slides down my cheek.

  “You're worrying about the wrong thing, son. Your business and your inventions don't matter. That young lady who stormed out of here, the one you spent all night staring at, she's what matters. She's the only thing that matters. You can invent a hundred more doodads, and you'll feel just like you do now. Incomplete. Alone. Overshadowed. Do you hear me?”

  I do hear him, and what’s more, my crazy old lovesick dad is right. Luke will get over it or he won’t. James Fullmer may steal my ideas, or he may let it go. And none of that matters as much as Trudy, who I lied to, just like her ex lied to her. I'm as bad as idiotic Chris. Having someone to trust, having someone to love, that's what matters.

  Luckily, I know just where Trudy's going to be tomorrow morning, and I'm going to be there too. And unlike her moronic ex, I've figured out what I did wrong and I'm ready to make it right.

  16

  Trudy

  Paisley grills me on the way home about Paul. “So you were totally making out with him all along, and at the same time telling Mary and Luke you wanted nothing to do with him?” Her grin cannot be contained.

  “Yep, that about sums it up.”

  “How could he not realize you were Mary's sister?”

  I shrug. “His office manager hired me, so she’s the one who reviewed the paperwork. My name means nothing to her. And thanks to her dear aunt, I went by Gerty or Gertrude at work. Well, her aunt and your dumb suggestion that I change my resume to Gertrude. And I really don't have the same last name as Mary. I doubt he’d given Mary's sister Trudy much thought, honestly.”

  “Still, for a smart guy.”

  I know. I've thought about it already.

  “Hey, so. Not to sidetrack you or anything, but you got to move down to the end of the table by the Hawk Guy. What's his deal? Is he as loaded as all Luke's other friends and family?”

  The who?

  “Oh come on, don't pretend you don't know who I'm talking about. He was practically eating you up with his eyes. But you can't have every single guy on Earth.”

  James? “Do you mean the guy in the tux next to me with the dark hair?”

  Paisley clucks. “The Hawk Guy. How could I be clearer? Yes, duh, dark brown hair, to die for tux, cheekbones for miles, and the smolder.” She glances my way with an incredulous look on her face. “Oh my gosh, you've stopped checking other guys out. You really do like Paul.”

  I swat her. “Knock it off. I'm tired, that's all. And I would avoid the hawk guy if I were you. He's loaded, but if we're going with this analogy, he's a bad egg.”

  Paisley narrows her eyes. “What does that mean?”

  “He's not a very good guy. He holds grudges and does morally indefensible things.”

  “So you're saying he's complicated?” Paisley looks like a cat batting at a bug. “I like tortured souls.”

  Oh my goodness. “Trust me Pais, this guy is not someone you should pity, or anyone you can fix. He's bad news.”

  “Because Liar Liar Pants on Fire Paul doesn't like him?”

  She has a point.

  “I'll take your silence as agreement, and I'm officially calling dibs.”

  “He's all yours. May you fly high and fast together.”

  Once I'm finally home and my teeth are brushed, I get a text from Paisley with my mom's phone number. I stare at it for a moment hoping it'll go away. There's a whole story about this. Some chicken spends all its time picking wheat and prepping it and then grinding the wheat into flour. It makes bread slowly, then it bakes the bread, asking for help all the while. Then when it comes time to eat the dumb bread, volunteers come from everywhere.

  Mom and Dad didn't do anything they were supposed to do as parents. They didn't feed us and bathe us and clothe us. They didn't teach us to read, or make us lunches for school. They didn't attend school functions or show any support. As if complete neglect wasn’t already enough, my mom up and left while I was still in diapers.

  She’s missed my entire life.

  Then she wants a slice of bread. At least my dad was sick. What's my mom's excuse? I’m trying not to be angry that she didn’t even bother to show up at my wedding. Only for Mary, her perfect child, her child who's marrying the billionaire. And now she's angry that I question her motives?

  I don't even want to know her real reason for coming. I shouldn't even mention any of it to Mary. I won't. Not now, the night before her wedding.

  Except I had a mom.

  For all intents and purposes, Mary was my mom. She potty trained me, and made my lunch. She walked me to school. She wasn't even quite four years older than me, and she should have been tucked in by someone at night herself. But instead, she did everything from teaching me to read, to braiding my hair every morning. She's been there for every single thing in my life, including the time I married a guy she couldn't stand.

  She even paid for that stupid wedding.

  But she hasn't had anyone to be her mother, not since Mom left. What if Mary wants our sorry excuse for a mom at her wedding and I deprive her of that because I’m jealous? I pick up the phone to text her. Then I throw it to the bottom of my bed, unwilling to give Mom the power to ruin Mary's day.

  I don't know what to do.

  I hate my mother for putting me in this situation. I hate her for being such a greedy, lazy, unworthy mess who only shows up for a slice of bread once all the hard work is done. Well, she can't have any bread. She can rot for all I care. But this isn't about me. It's about Mary. So I retrieve my phone and I text her as calmly as I possibly can.

  YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHO SHOWED UP TONIGHT AFTER YOUR DINNER.

  Mary texts me back immediately. YOUR BOSS WHO HAPPENS TO BE MY STUPID BROTHER-IN-LAW?

  HA, HIM TOO, BUT I'M TALKING ABOUT SOMEONE ELSE, SOMEONE WHO SHOWED UP UNINVITED.

  WHO? She asks.

  HOW ARE YOU FEELING ABOUT DAD COMING TOMORROW? I test the waters.

  INDIFFERENT. I DOUBT I'LL NOTICE WHETHER HE'S THERE OR NOT.

  I don't believe that for a second, but I hope it's true. YOU AREN'T ANGRY ABOUT IT, THOUGH?

  NOPE. IF HE WANTS TO COME, GREAT. BUT I'M NOT BETTING ON IT.

  It's pathetic that we have to prepare ourselves as adults that our sorry parents may say they'll make it to our wedding when they’re probably going to flake.

  I SAW MOM. SHE FOUND YOUR VENUE FOR THE REHEARSAL DINNER FROM THE PAPER.

  Mary sends me an angry emoji. THAT’S EXACTLY WHY I TOLD GEO NOT TO INCLUDE ANY DETAILS.

  DON'T WORRY, I SENT HER PACKING. OR TECHNICALLY, PAISLEY DID.

  WHAT DID SHE WANT?

  SHE WANTS TO COME TOMORROW. MAYBE WE CAN PARENT TRAP HER AND DAD.


  Crying laughing emojis. That's promising.

  SHOULD WE PLAY BEASTIE BOYS BRASS MONKEY, OR SNOOP DOG'S GIN AND JUICE TO RECREATE THAT AUTHENTIC RELATIONSHIP FEEL FOR THEM?

  No laugh emojis this time. WHAT DID YOU TELL HER?

  THAT SHE COULDN'T CALL OR TEXT YOU. THAT SHE WOULD GET A TEXT WITH AN ADDRESS IF YOU DECIDED SHE COULD COME. OTHERWISE, SHE'D GET NOTHING. WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT WE GOT, AND EXACTLY WHAT YOU OWE HER. PERSONALLY I VOTE TO BLOCK HER AND NEVER LOOK BACK.

  No reply.

  I'm nearly asleep when I finally hear a buzz. I almost ignore it, but what if Mary wants me to text Mom? I check the message.

  It's not from Mary.

  My phone says it's a message from Jack. My phone's as confused as I was. There is no Jack Campbell.

  I'M REALLY REALLY SORRY I DIDN'T TELL YOU YESTERDAY. I WANTED TO, BUT WITH TROY THERE, WELL.

  Dots.

  I CHICKENED OUT. I’M SORRY.

  My heart wrenches. I think about last night at our picnic. With his dog. We couldn't go to his house because he had people there setting up for the wedding, I'm sure. Except he didn't tell me any of that. He didn't let me in, because he was living a fake life as someone else. Chris lived two lives, too. One life with me and another with his girlfriend. He didn't pick me, and then he didn't even have the decency to tell me he was bailing for months. He got away with that because I'm an idiot. Fool me once. . .

  This time, I shut my phone off and go to sleep.

  When I wake up, it's not because of my alarm. It's because Troy's tiny face is inches from mine and he's waving his Spiderman Easter basket around. “It's time for the egg hunt!”

  Mary and Luke decided to do a huge Easter egg hunt at Paul's house in the front yard two hours before the wedding. Because there wasn't already enough going on today. It’s an adorable idea, I’m just glad I’m not in charge of logistics. It's Easter weekend, and there are a lot of kids coming, what with several of Amy and Chase's friends, some of Mary's friends from work who have kids, and Addy and her twins, and of course, Troy.