Stepbrother Dearest

by Penelope Ward

  I loved this girl, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

  Without thinking it through, I knocked on her door and decided to give her what she’d asked me for.

  I could go into details about all of the things that Greta and I did that night, but to be honest, it’s not something I feel comfortable writing about because of how much it meant to me. She trusted me enough to give me something that no one else will ever get. That night was sacred to me, and I hope she realizes that.

  The one thing I will say is that I will never forget a certain look on her face. Her eyes had been closed, and it was the way she opened them and looked at me the very first moment I was fully inside of her.

  To this day, I still haven’t forgiven myself for leaving her the next morning. I’d never felt so attached to anyone. She had fully given herself to me. She was mine, and I threw her away. I let guilt and some deep-rooted need to protect my mother in order to justify my existence win over my own happiness.

  I don’t think Greta ever realized that I loved her long before that night.

  As I write this, what she definitely doesn’t know is that a few years later, I came back for her, but it was too late.

  CHAPTER 19

  He’d come back for me?

  My hand covered my chest as if it were going to keep my heart from leaping out of it.

  It was now mid-morning, and the hustle and bustle of the daily grind could be heard from my window. The sun was pouring into the apartment. I’d already called out of work earlier because I needed to finish this book today.

  Tonight was a 30th birthday celebration for a co-worker at a downtown nightclub, and I wasn’t sure if I’d even be able to put it down long enough to go.

  I walked to the kitchen to have some water and forced down a granola bar. The energy would be much needed to get through this next part.

  He’d come back for me?

  I curled back into the couch, took a deep breath and turned the page.

  ***

  You have to treat addiction to a person the same way you would a drug problem. If I couldn’t be all in with Greta, then I couldn’t have any contact with her at all because that would have caused me to spiral out of control.

  Even calling or texting wasn’t going to be possible. It seemed harsh, but I wouldn’t have been able to handle even the sound of her voice if we couldn’t be together.

  That didn’t mean that I wasn’t pining for her every single day. That first year was hell.

  Mami was no better than before I’d gone to Boston. She kept interrogating me for information about Randy and Sarah, stalking Sarah’s facebook page and accusing me of being a traitor after I admitted that my stepmother wasn’t all that bad once you got to know her. I couldn’t even mention Greta’s name because I didn’t want my mother to look her up or suspect anything. Mami was back on sleeping pills, and I had to watch her like a hawk.

  I was right in my assumption that she could have never handled even the thought of my being with Greta at that time. It was a sad irony: Mami was obsessed with Sarah, and unbeknownst to her, I’d become obsessed with Sarah’s daughter. We were quite the fucked up pair.

  Not a day went by without my having a thought about Greta with another guy. It made me crazy. I was so far away and powerless. Ironically, there was a side of me that wished at the very least, I were able to protect her as my sister even if we weren’t together. Sick, right? But what if someone hurt her? I wouldn’t even know about it and couldn’t beat him down. And forget about the thought of her fucking another guy. I’d actually punched a hole once in my bedroom wall just thinking about that.

  Then, one night, I lost control and texted her that I missed her. I asked her not to respond. She didn’t, and it made me feel worse. I’d vowed never to repeat that mistake.

  My life had gone back to exactly what it was before I moved to Boston: smoking, drinking and fucking girls I didn’t care about. It was empty. The only difference from before was that now, somewhere deep beneath the filth was this longing for more…for her. She’d given me a taste of the type of human connection my life had been missing all along.

  I expected the gnawing feeling in my chest to go away over time, but it never did; it only intensified. I think that was because deep down, I also sensed that wherever she was, Greta was thinking of me, feeling the same way. I somehow felt it, and it ate away at me for years.

  ***

  Two years later, Mami’s mental state had finally improved after she met a guy. He was her first boyfriend since Randy left her. George was Lebanese and owned the convenience store down the street from us. He was over the house all of the time and would always bring pita bread, hummus and olives. For the first time ever, her obsession with Randy seemed to have waned.

  George was a great guy, but the happier she was with him, the more bitter I became. I’d given up the one girl I ever cared about because I thought it would devastate my mother beyond repair. Now, she was happy, and I was still miserable. And Greta was gone.

  I’d felt like I made the biggest mistake of my life.

  I needed to talk to someone about it because my anger was eating away at me day by day. I had never mentioned what happened with Greta to a single soul. The only person I could trust was Randy’s friend, Greg, who’d become like a second father to me.

  He gave me some inside information that day during our phone call: Greta had apparently recently moved to New York. He even had her address from their Christmas card list. Greg tried to convince me to fly out there and tell her how I felt. I didn’t think she would want to see me even if she still cared about me. I hurt her so badly that I didn’t understand how she could ever forgive me. Greg felt that going to see her in person would make a bigger impression. Despite my fears, I booked a ticket the next day, which happened to be New Years Eve.

  I told Mami I was going to visit a friend I’d met years ago to celebrate the holiday in the city. I wouldn’t tell her about Greta unless this worked out.

  The six-hour plane ride was the most nerve-wracking experience of my life. I just wanted to get there. I just wanted to hold her again. I didn’t know what I’d say or what I was going to do when I laid eyes on her. I didn’t know if she was even with someone. I was going in blind.

  This was the first time in my life that I ever put myself first and followed my heart.

  I hoped it wasn’t too late because I really wanted the opportunity to tell her all of the things I should have told her three years ago. She never even knew I loved her the night she’d given me her virginity.

  If the plane ride took an eternity, the subway ride to her apartment complex seemed even more frustratingly long. As the train swayed, every single memory of her flashed through my head like a movie. I couldn’t help but smile as I thought about some of the shit I pulled on her and what a good sport she was. She made me happy. Mostly, my mind drifted to that final night when she’d given me full ownership of her body. The train stopped; there was a slight delay. Getting to her soon felt urgent now.

  I needed to get to her.

  When I finally made it to her building, I double-checked the address I’d jotted down on a small piece of paper. Her last name, Hansen, was written in pen next to apartment 7b on the listing inside the main entrance.

  There was no answer. I nixed the idea of calling or texting her because I worried she’d say she didn’t want to meet with me before I had a chance to see her. I came all the way here. I needed to at least see her face.

  The restaurant downstairs served as the perfect waiting spot before trying her door again in another hour.

  I knocked on that door every hour on the hour from four in the afternoon until nine at night. Each time, there was no answer, and I’d just go back to Charlie’s Pub and wait.

  The time was 9:15. I’d never forget the moment I got my wish.

  I got to see her.

  But it wasn’t the way I wanted it to happen.

  Greta.

  She was wearing a thick
off-white parka as she came strolling into Charlie’s. She wasn’t alone. A guy—who looked a hell of a lot more put together than me—had his arm wrapped around her.

  The greasy food in my stomach started to come up on me.

  She was laughing as they took a seat in the middle of the restaurant. She looked happy. She didn’t notice me because her back was facing me as I sat in a corner booth.

  Her hair was tied up in a twist. I watched as she unwound the lavender scarf she’d been wearing, revealing the back of her beautiful neck—the neck I was supposed to be kissing tonight after I told her how much I loved her.

  The guy leaned in and kissed her gently on the face.

  A voice inside of me screamed, “Don’t touch her!”

  His lips mouthed the words, “I love you.”

  What was I supposed to do? Go over there and say, “Oh hello, I’m Greta’s stepbrother. I fucked the shit out of her once and left the very next day. She seems happy with you, and you probably actually deserve her, but I was hoping you could step aside and let me take over from here.”

  A half-hour went by. I watched the waiter bring them their food. I watched them eat. I watched the guy reach over a dozen more times to kiss her. I’d close my eyes and listen to the sound of her sweet laughter. I didn’t know why I stayed. I just couldn’t get myself to leave her. I knew it was likely the last time I’d ever see her.

  10:15: Greta got up from her seat and let him place her coat over her shoulders. She never once looked in my direction. I hadn’t considered what I would have done if she noticed me. I was too numb to move or even think clearly.

  I watched her every second until the door closed behind them.

  That night, I wandered the city and eventually ended up with the masses in Times Square watching the ball drop. Amidst the confetti, noisemakers and cheering, I wondered how I’d even gotten there because I was still in a daze since leaving the restaurant.

  A random middle-aged woman grabbed me and hugged me when the clock struck midnight. She couldn’t have known it, but I’d never needed a hug in my life more than that moment.

  I boarded a plane back to California the next morning.

  A few months later, Randy had called the house for the first time in almost a year. I casually asked about Greta, and he told me she’d gotten engaged. That was the last time I ever mentioned her name.

  It took me almost three years before I could really move on with someone else.

  ***

  I had to stop. I threw my kindle across the room. My eyes were so filled with tears that the words were becoming blurry toward the end.

  I closed my eyes tightly to see if I could recall anything that could have clued me into the fact that Elec was there. He was there. How could I not have known he was right behind me?

  He’d come for me.

  It still hadn’t fully sunk in.

  I remembered that night.

  I remembered Tim and I were still in the honeymoon stage of our relationship. Things were going well.

  I remembered even though it was New Years Eve, we’d been out all day shopping for a new computer for me.

  I remembered we stopped at my apartment to drop it off and then headed into Charlie’s for a late dinner before going to Times Square to watch the ball drop.

  I remembered when the clock struck 12, Tim warmed me from the cold with his kisses.

  I remembered wondering why in the midst of this magical night with a man who was seemingly perfect and who truly cared about me, all I wanted was Elec. All I had been able to think about was Elec: where he was at that very moment, whether he was watching the festivities on TV, whether he was thinking of me, too.

  All the while, Elec was right there.

  Fate had screwed us over.

  ***

  In the next couple of chapters, he wrote about finding a career path that was meaningful, and how he came to settle on social work. He felt a responsibility to help others, particularly children who’d come from broken homes like he had.

  I rushed through the following chapters detailing how he’d met Chelsea. It was the only part of the book I’d felt the need to speed through. The gist was that he met her at the youth center, they’d hung out a lot after work as friends. He was apprehensive about getting involved with her because he knew she was the type of girl who wanted a serious relationship. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that. Over time, she’d made him forget about me, made him laugh, and he grew to love and care about her. She was his first serious relationship, and he planned to propose to her…until—

  ***

  It felt like my world came crashing down on that day.

  Things were going better than they’d ever had in my entire life. My job was stable and fulfilling. Chelsea and I had moved in together, and I was planning to ask her to marry me at her sister’s wedding coming up in just a few days. A one-carat white gold solitaire had been stashed away for weeks.

  Mami was doing a lot better. She’d been on a roll with new art projects. While she’d broken up with George a year ago and had a major relapse, she was now dating a new guy named Steve who’d once again taken some of her focus off of Randy. So, life was as good as it was gonna get—until a phone call from Clara changed everything.

  “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, Elec. Randy had a heart attack and died.” Those were the first words that came out of her mouth. Initially, my reaction was the same as if she were calling to tell me what day of the week it was.

  Randy was dead.

  It didn’t matter how many times I’d repeated it in my head that day; it wouldn’t sink in.

  Chelsea had somehow convinced me to go back for the service despite my better judgment. Randy wouldn’t have wanted me there. I was still in shock and too desensitized to fight her pushing guilt on me. She didn’t know what kind of relationship Randy and I had. From her perspective, there was no excuse for my not attending. It was easier for me to just give in than have to tell her everything. I also knew that Mami couldn’t handle going. She wanted me to go in her place to represent the two of us. So, before I knew it, I was on a plane with Chelsea heading to Boston.

  The stagnant air on the plane was suffocating. Chelsea kept holding my hand as I blasted the volume of my music. I’d almost managed to calm down when a flash of Greta’s face induced further panic. Not only was I going to have to deal with Randy’s death, but she would probably be there too with her husband.

  Fuck.

  I knew this was going to be the worst couple of days of my life.

  When we got to Greg and Clara’s house, I was really on edge. Chelsea and I took a shower together in the guest bathroom, but it hadn’t done anything to pacify my nervous state. Before we’d left California, I’d picked up a case of the imported clove cigarettes I used to smoke. I took one out and lit it as I sat on the bed while Chelsea was still in the bathroom getting dressed. I was disappointed in myself for relapsing into smoking again, but it felt like the only thing holding me together at that point.

  I had no motivation to get dressed and go downstairs. I lit another cigarette, inhaled deeply and walked over to the French doors that led to a balcony overlooking the backyard. The sky was overcast.

  Looking down was a colossal mistake.

  My fists tightened in a fighting response to the fact that my heart was beating so rapidly.

  I wasn’t supposed to ever see her again like this. A part of me that died was coming back to life when it shouldn’t have. I didn’t know how to handle it.

  Greta’s back was turned. She was staring out into the garden and must have just found out I was here. She was probably trying to plan her escape so she didn’t have to face me, or maybe she was just as angry at this predicament as I was. The fact that she was standing all alone out there told me that my being here was affecting her.

  “Greta,” I whispered to myself.

  It was like she heard me because she turned around. Suddenly, a tidal wave of emotions that I’d tried to b
ury since that night in New York came flooding out. I wasn’t prepared to see her face looking up at me.

  I took another long drag.

  I also wasn’t prepared for how angry this moment would make me. With one look into her eyes, I was starting to feel everything: the realization of Randy’s death, the painful reminder of my unresolved feelings for her, the jealousy and crushing disappointment of that night in New York, the twitch of my traitorous cock.

  The level of rage building inside of me was an unpleasant surprise.

  I was so confused.

  I never wanted to see you again, Greta.

  It’s so fucking good to see you again, Greta.

  I felt like she could see right through me in that moment, and I didn’t like it. We just stayed looking at each other for probably an entire minute. Her previously dumbfounded expression darkened as soon as I felt Chelsea’s hands wrap around me.

  I instinctively turned around and moved back, pushing Chelsea away from the window. I think I was trying to protect Greta’s feelings in that moment but didn’t know why I bothered. What the fuck did she expect me to do, sit around and pine for her alone while she married Mr. Wonderful? Still, I knew seeing Chelsea appear out of nowhere like that must have been a shock.

  “Are you okay?” Chelsea asked. She hadn’t seen Greta.

  “Yeah,” I said dismissively.

  Needing to be alone, I walked to the bathroom and shut the door to gear up before I had to face the music.

  ***

  She was sitting at the far corner of the dining room table when we got downstairs. She wouldn’t look at me.

  I hate when you do that, Greta.

  Sarah got up and hugged me. I gave her some brief greeting, told her I was sorry about Randy, but the entire time I was thinking about what the fuck I was going to say to Greta. I glanced over at her, and now, she was looking at me. I stood back as Chelsea hugged Sarah and gave her condolences.