Twin Ties 2: Twin Affairs

by Lynn Kelling

  “Does he make you angry because he’s a lot like Mom? Because he is. He’s just like her,” Brennan said, breaking the tension with his crisp, clear voice with its hint of a Southern accent. “Have you told him that? He even looks like her. We both do, but you know that. I mean, it’s obvious. Evan does things that might not make sense to you because he believes it’s for the greater good. He puts the good of others above his own well-being. He also appreciates things keenly like she does. Or, well… did. Anyway, it’s not a bad thing, in my humble opinion.”

  Complete, perfect silence descended on the room. Jimmy cleared his throat. “I’m, um, going to head home, give you three some space. You know where I’ll be if you need anything.”

  “Yeah. Thanks, Jimmy.” Charlie nodded, then rose to his feet, groaning quietly under his breath, “Jesus Christ.”

  On the short walk to the door where Jimmy was waiting, Charlie took the opportunity to check out some of the changes in décor of the living room and the side bedroom that had been his. The house even felt different, the memories of Evan’s childhood buried under layers of foreign new realities of which Charlie was not a part. The bed, the chaise, the plants and paintings, the altar—so many things caught his eye.

  “I owe you one,” Charlie said in a travel-worn, gravelly voice, low and confidential as Jimmy headed out onto the stoop. “You’re a good man. What the hell I’d do without you watching out for them, I’ll never know.”

  “Don’t sweat it. Good luck with ‘em, though,” Jimmy said, looking despondent. “I’ve just been at a loss.”

  Charlie nodded, his expression darkening.

  “G’night.”

  “Night.”

  Pushing his luggage out of the way, Charlie hovered in the hall and said, “Look, the last thing I want is to kick you out of your room after all you’ve been through, Brennan. I’ll take the couch.”

  “Dad, you don’t have to take the couch,” Evan sighed.

  “We already talked about it,” Brennan said. “I’ll bunk with Evan. I don’t mind. Really, I’d feel worse making you sleep out here.”

  “Are these just your momma’s manners kicking in? Be straight with me, now.”

  “Maybe a little. Doesn’t change anything.”

  Charlie stared at the son he’d counted as forever lost to him for so very long, seeing some of his own innate stubbornness in him. Brennan stared back, not budging an inch, not backing down. More like his father than he’d ever know.

  “Dad, just take the room,” Evan said, ever the peacemaker. “There are clean sheets and pillows on the bed already. If you want to grab a shower or anything, I’ll help Bren get supper ready.”

  There was a pause before Charlie relented, saying to Brennan, “All right then. But if you change your mind, tell me.”

  “Sure.”

  They had about an hour and a half of peace. Charlie got settled. The food was prepared, with Brennan handling the pasta salad and Evan grilling salmon steaks. Father and sons sat together around the table, eating quietly, with much praise given to Brennan for his healthy contributions. Charlie asked about Brennan’s life in Louisiana. Evan let them talk, staying out of it for the most part. The sight of Brennan reacting proudly to Charlie’s inquiries made him happy. Evan wanted Charlie to be proud of Brennan, just like he was. Evan also had no idea how to go about bringing Brennan and Charlie closer, so he was glad to see them each making an effort on their own.

  It went well enough, but Evan sensed something else, something in his father’s glances over to him, darkness behind his eyes. There was mistrust there, and simmering anger. Evan couldn’t figure it out.

  They finished their meal and the boys cleaned up, side-by-side at the sink, not daring to look at each other too often, or make physical contact except when necessary. They passed plates and silverware, their fingers grazing as Evan washed and Brennan dried.

  Evan found himself dreading the moment when the dishes were done, expecting the tension to break and some of the many secrets to begin to be revealed.

  The last cup was set in the cupboard. The last pan was stacked in the drying rack. Evan turned and Brennan went to hang up the dishrag on the towel bar on the far wall.

  “There’s something we need to address before I head in for the night. It’s been a long day, but we’ve got us some air to clear,” Charlie said. Cold fear gripped Evan’s heart, but he stood his ground, not blinking, not showing any sign of weakness.

  He asked, “What is it, Dad?”

  “Is there anything you two want to tell me?” Charlie glanced between them.

  Oh fuck. Oh fuck, he knows, Evan bemoaned inwardly.

  “About what?” Brennan replied innocently, saving Evan from having to respond.

  “Well, how about what I hear about people being permitted to live in my damn house without my say so. Having friends is one thing, but letting anyone move in is way over the line and I won’t have it.”

  Evan’s eyes fluttered closed, the blood quickly drained from his face. Brennan gave him a look like it was taking every ounce of his will not to go to Evan and hold him, to take his hand and prop him up through the interrogation.

  “Luka is my boyfriend, not my friend,” Brennan answered sharply. “Yes, he’s been here a lot, helping take care of things while Evan recovers from his injuries. As an adult who pays rent for my room, I didn’t think I needed to ask permission for that.”

  “You’re only eighteen years old and this is still my house. You do need permission! I don’t know how Maggie raised you, but there’s no way in hell you’re going to bring men to sleep here with you, taking advantage of you under my goddamned roof!”

  “Don’t you dare speak badly about her,” Brennan said with shock. “I’m not your child. You don’t get to tell me what to do with my personal life.”

  “You are my child and you will mind me, boy!”

  “Stop!” Evan yelled above both of their voices. “Both of you, stop! Dad, Luka isn’t the one who’s been living here. Alek has. Brennan just said that to protect me. He never asked anyone to move in.”

  “Who’s Alek?”

  “He’s my boyfriend. Okay? I’ll spell it all out for you. Everyone was right about me. Everyone who made fun of me, calling me a faggot like it was the worst thing in the world to be. Ever since I was little I knew. I tried not to be. I tried everything, but I am who I am, whether I like it or not. I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t have you hate me, too.”

  His voice wavered and Brennan was there beside him before Evan even saw him come over, with one hand on Evan’s shoulder, looking hard into his eyes like he could transfer courage to him that way, right through the air.

  “Keep going,” Brennan said. “Tell him about Alek.”

  Now Charlie looked pale, his elbows planted on the table, his hands folded in front of his mouth, but his gaze was steady and fixed on Evan.

  “Alek and I were in a relationship before I was attacked, and he stuck by me during everything. He was at the hospital. Alek took care of me there and when I came home. He never left. Not once. He’s been helping pay the bills and taking care of the house when I couldn’t move around really well. It’s because of him I’ve been the happiest I’ve been in my whole fucking life. I’m in love with him, and yeah, I asked him to live here with me. I can’t imagine how Bren and I could’ve gotten through these past few months without his help and support. And I’m not going to let you guilt me into being ashamed of who I am anymore. I don’t care who knows.”

  There was a long, drawn out moment of silence between them, tense and thick, before Evan continued. When he did, his tone was drastically changed from tentative to furious.

  “And how dare you say those things to Brennan?! Maggie did a hell of a job raising him. He’s braver than me, stronger than me, smarter than me. He’s proud of who he is and you do not get to make him feel bad about himself after everything you’ve put him through, wondering if you would accept him after you gave him away. You gave h
im away! How could you do that?! We should have been together! We should have had each other! We’re twins, for Christ’s sake! Didn’t you ever think we’d miss each other?! That we’d know in our hearts what cruelty you forced on us?”

  Charlie swallowed thickly, lowering his gaze, eyes shining with unshed tears. He appeared to brace himself for a blow, waiting for the next cutting words to come, and cut they surely did.

  “That’s why I did it!” Evan screamed, his voice breaking apart. “That’s why I took all those pills and tried to off myself! You stole that piece of me and I just couldn’t be empty anymore. When you took Brennan from me, I always knew, deep down. It left a scar. It never healed. And I didn’t want to live that way. For years, fucking YEARS I merely existed. I survived. For you. Even though you did this to me. To us. How could you?! God damn it, HOW COULD YOU?!”

  Evan saw his father hide his face in his hands to mask his tears, spilling over now. Taking a shaky step backward, Evan stumbled into Brennan’s arms which held him up. It lasted only a second then he was pushing away, toward the back door. Brennan followed. But Evan stopped just inside the threshold.

  “If you’re not okay with Alek living here with me, then I’ll move out. You won’t have to worry about me anymore. I’m not a child. You can go wherever you want and forget about me if it’s easier. I’m making my own family. It’s your choice whether you want to be a part of it or not.”

  The door slammed behind Brennan as they left. Evan walked out into the yard, trying to catch his breath.

  At the table, Charlie broke into wrenching sobs, the pain of permanently losing Maggie, the guilt of facing Brennan, the terror of almost losing Evan again—it drowned him.

  When he managed to pull himself together, he glanced heavenward, and said in a whisper, “He always was your son. His mother’s son, through and through. What have I done to them? How do I fix this, Maggie? Tell me, please. Give me a sign. I’ll do anything. Anything. Just help me help our boys. Help me find a way to make this better instead of worse.”

  The stillness of the evening did bring one small miracle. There was no sound of the Chevy’s engine turning over. There was only the chirping of crickets, the hooting of owls and the murmuring of two low voices, whispering conspiratorially in the dark.

  Brennan called Luka to tell him and Alek over speakerphone what had happened, what Evan had done, how he had stood up for himself and Brennan, too. Evan shivered from the night’s chill, shocked silent at what he had said to the man who’d been his world since he came into existence.

  The call was short. Shocked but supportive as ever, Luka and Alek murmured words of encouragement and love, offering a safe haven if it was needed, but urging Evan to give his father a proper chance to make amends. With professions of love, they ended the call and promised to see Evan and Brennan in the morning, one way or another. The thick, enveloping black blanket of night fell once more as the phone was turned off, its glow extinguished, and slipped back into Brennan’s pocket.

  The back door opened and a figure appeared silhouetted in light.

  “Come in here before the mosquitoes make supper out of you two. Please. I didn’t come all this way to scare you out of the damn house.”

  Evan’s feet carried him back inside. He heard Charlie apologizing to Brennan, and waited, standing there like a shell of a person—gutted and hollowed out. When his father’s arms wrapped around him, embracing him gently, Evan heard, “I love you. I love you just the way you are. I’m trying to atone for the past. I really am. Please, let me try. I know I can’t fix the way things were, the way you both grew up, but I can try to make things better now.”

  You’re still screwed up, a voice whispered insistently in Evan’s mind. Everyone sees it. Charlie looks at you and all he sees is what’s wrong with you, just like how it was with Alek and Brennan when you got out of the hospital. You’re not a man, like them. You’re just a damaged delinquent, a pathetic, sick kid who needs real men to take care of him. You’re a burden to everyone who loves you.

  The words still wouldn’t come. Only fat tears and embarrassing, aching whimpers and gasps, but the way Evan clung to his daddy like a scared little boy was absolution enough.

  Chapter 18

  Brutal Honesty

  If Evan thought it was bad to find himself screaming at his father, raging with pure anger and shades of hatred in his heart, he was introduced to a whole new spectrum of pain the following morning when Brennan’s emotional devastation truly became evident.

  That night, the pair of them slept closely, cuddled up to one another, seeking safety and shelter from the world in each other’s arms. Dawn shed light on their reality, showing Brennan all of the ways he had lost and everything he would never get back. The light of his life, his mother, had been ripped away from him, and Evan knew that in itself must have been excruciating, but then his faint hope of finding a connection with and receiving affection from his long-lost father was seemingly dashed by Charlie’s carelessly tossed out, cold-hearted words accusing Brennan of being the one to cause the problems in Evan’s life. More than that, Brennan was left in pieces when Charlie essentially spit on Maggie’s memory by attacking her mothering abilities. Dissolving into gut-wrenching sobs, once drained and thoroughly exhausted, Brennan fell unconscious only to wake an hour later to fresh tears and more pain.

  The cycle repeated itself again. Brennan cried himself to sleep a second time and Evan stayed with him, not leaving his side for longer than it took to use the bathroom. The first time Evan ventured to the toilet, the other bedroom’s door was closed with Charlie inside. The next time, the room was empty. Charlie was in the kitchen and he left the house minutes later, closing the back door behind him, walking in the direction of Jimmy’s trailer.

  Crawling back into bed and sliding under the covers, Evan’s movement finally roused Brennan for good. Opening his bloodshot, puffy-lidded eyes, Brennan’s gaze was like a plea to his brother to pull him from the abyss of sorrow in which he was drowning. The problem was there was no saving Brennan from his circumstances, or altering unchangeable things. Maggie wasn’t coming back. Neither of them would get to relive their childhoods with a complete nuclear family. Those years had passed them by and been used up. And there was a very good chance Charlie and Brennan would never get along or bond as a father and son should. Evan couldn’t do anything about those things.

  But he could help Brennan in other ways. So he tried to, giving it his best shot, as pathetic as it might have been. Because seeing Brennan so forlorn was something Evan simply couldn’t bear.

  As soon as full awareness hit Brennan, he curled in on himself further and hid his face against the pillow nestled under his head. His breath caught on a violent sob and his hands came up to cover his face when he realized Evan was looking at him.

  “Don’t watch me cry,” he hiccupped. Evan noted Brennan wasn’t asking him to leave; he was just ashamed of being so emotionally naked and afraid of seeming ugly for it.

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know,” Brennan whined, exasperated. “It’s weird.”

  “I know you are, but what am I,” Evan retorted softly, teasing him.

  “Evan,” Brennan huffed, sniffling. He rubbed the heel of his hand over his eyes, “It’s not funny. I finally meet my dad after dreaming of how it would be to have that moment since I was a little kid, wanting it to be perfect, you know? But it wasn’t. He hates me and insulted Mom right to my face. It sucks. Everything sucks. I suck.”

  The words made Evan want to cry too. So, he tried to push it the opposite way, out of nothing but self-preservation and unconditional love for his brother.

  “Well, it is a skill you possess. You’re a regular Hoover. It’s actually quite impressive, your sucking.”

  “Stop,” Brennan whined, snorting once and trying not to laugh. “Stop being clever and cute.”

  “I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do about that,” Evan said solemnly. “Unfortunately, it’s a conditio
n I was born with. You’re probably infected with it too.”

  Brennan rolled onto his back, biting viciously at his quivering lower lip, his cheeks riddled with tear-stains. “He said it was my fault. He accused me like I’m a bad influence. And, I am. That’s the worst part. I am a bad influence. God, if he knew what I’ve really done to you, he’d do more than hate me. He’d kill me.”

  “Hmm, berating yourself. Now you sound like me,” Evan said gently. “I think that counts as progress.”

  Brennan made a soft, hurt sound and whispered, “I don’t want him to hate me. He’s the only dad I’ve got.”

  Evan dug his fingernails into his palm so deeply he nearly broke the skin and clenched his jaw hard enough to make his teeth ache. He wanted to punch a wall. He wanted to magically vanquish all of the bad, hurtful things in Brennan’s world. But he couldn’t. Sighing deeply, he chose to keep attacking the horror of it all with humor and said, “Wow, you are really so emo in the morning. Maybe we should dye your hair black. You could wear it all pushed forward covering your eyes. And of course there would have to be guyliner.”

  Brennan snorted with laughter, covering his mouth as soon as the sound was startled out of him. It was tear-choked and heartbreaking, but real—a small miracle. He turned and hugged Evan.

  “Stop making me feel better,” he murmured. “It’s really annoying.”

  “Fat chance, emo boy. Suck it up. You’re good at that.”

  “Evan.”

  “I love you, Bren.”

  Brennan held Evan. He took another breath, trying to break through anguish to some sort of calm, and professed, “I love you, too.”

  “How did it go?”

  “Horrible. Or good. I don’t know,” Charlie sighed.

  In his hands he cradled one of Jimmy’s chipped ceramic mugs, filled nearly to the brim with steaming hot coffee. Taking in his surroundings, familiar but sorely missed, Charlie enjoyed the stillness of morning in the rural wilderness of his old hometown. Seated next to Jimmy on a bench outside his trailer, Charlie felt the pull luring him back to his sons, but he needed to do this first, and clear the air. It was his confession, an attempt to lift some of the weight crushing him.