by Lexy Timms
He hadn’t been murdered, and he hadn’t been clean when he died.
It’d taken me years to come to that conclusion and to accept that he died face-down alone in an alleyway with heroin coursing through his veins. No matter how far he’d run from his demons, they always seemed to catch up with him. Through the course of my brother’s life, I’d watched him get clean three times.
I was well aware of what he looked like when he was clean, and three months before he overdosed, he was definitely not clean.
Hailey’s last-ditch effort to save our little tryst had been pathetic. On her knees in the fucking dirt, unable to admit what she’d done while looking me in my eyes. After all the manipulation and all the bullshit, she was still unable to look me in the eye and admit when she had been caught.
Found out.
Defeated.
She was weak, and I didn’t need anyone like that in my life.
That’s what Hailey was for me. My heroin. A drug I had to get out of my system. I’d lost myself in her like John had lost himself in his own drugs. I swam in her eyes the way he swam in his high. I melted into her and thought she could heal me like John thought that needle could heal him. I allowed the beer to flow along my tongue as my body detoxed from her, flushing her from my system while replacing her memory with another sensation, a dull sensation that relaxed my body the way she used to.
And what if Hailey had been telling the truth? What if she had been there? Holy fuck, if her words were true, then that meant she was standing right around the fucking corner while my brother had struggled. All this time, I’d convinced myself my brother died alone. Without anyone to help him or surrounded by anyone he loved. If Hailey was telling even a partial truth, that meant she had fucking been there.
That meant she held his hand while he’d died alone and suffering, and she never once stepped forward to contact us.
I drained my beer and threw it behind me, listening to it smash along the tile flooring of my kitchen as I groaned. I had no more energy to be angry. I had no more energy to fight this. I had to let the memory of Hailey run its course. I had to flush her out of my system, and then I could get back to business as usual. I could be done with this leave of absence Drew insisted I take, and I could get back to running my life the way I saw fit.
But a knock at the door pulled me from my swirling thoughts, and I got up and stumbled toward the door.
I looked through the peephole and saw a mound of jet black hair. I sure as hell wasn’t opening the door for anyone tonight, but I was curious. I didn’t know anyone with hair like that. But as the figure stepped back and the face of the person came into view, every single atom of my body vibrated with fury as her eyes connected directly with mine.
Hailey was standing on my fucking porch.
The nerve of that woman to come here, thinking I’d open this door for her. The balls it took for her to just waltz up here and knock on my door like I wasn’t actively attempting to avoid her. I’d blocked her number, what fucking larger sign could she need from me?!
“Bryan!” she called out as she knocked on the door. “I know you’re in there.”
I backed away from the door and dragged myself back to my couch. I sat down while she tried peering through the windows, squinting to see if she could catch a glimpse of movement behind the curtains I’d drawn. I’d cut out everything, all the sunlight and all the noise from the city of San Diego. I didn’t want a bit of the outside world touching me while I tried to cope with all the shit that had gone down between me and her, and here she was shouting her beautiful voice and filling the corners of my house even as she stood outside.
“Bryan, we really need to talk. Please open up.”
I cracked open another beer and sank heavily into the couch. I guzzled it down, no longer tasting the burning sensation of alcohol as it rushed down my throat. I could feel my eyes growing heavy as she continued to knock and shout, but her words were fading into the background while sleep slowly overtook my body.
Her incessant knocking wouldn’t stop, and I couldn’t slip into my drunken state of sleep until she left.
Finally, she stopped knocking. I heard the rustling of paper behind the door before she walked off, and I waited until her car drove away before I got up. I tossed the empty beer bottle into the trash can as I stumbled over to the door, opening it up to see what the hell that sound was. I breathed a sigh of relief at the absence of her presence, but as I looked down at my feet, I took in the sight of the brown paper.
Judging from the size of it, even in my drunken stupor, I could tell it was a painting.
I picked it up and took it back into the house. I crunched over the broken glass that would be left there for me to clean tomorrow morning as I made my way into the kitchen. I set the wrapped painting down on the kitchen island and slowly began to unwrap it. Layer by layer, I peeled back the brown paper to reveal the one picture that had started this all.
The picture my brother had painted of our cabin in the woods.
Suddenly, I felt tears dripping down my cheeks. I didn’t know where they came from nor could I feel my chest lurching with sobs, but as they fell onto the painting I closed my eyes. My mind threw me back to the summers we spent at the cabin, summers my brother and I spent exploring the woods, running from snakes, and eating fresh blackberries from our own personal, secret vine we found. I smiled at the image of John with blackberry juice on his face, his hands covered in black and purple stains as we made our way back to the road.
I didn’t even know if that cabin was still there anymore, much less if anyone ever used it.
This cabin was my link to John. This painting, it was how I wanted to remember him. My fingers danced along the two boys playing in the shadow of the cabin as my heart clenched with sadness. Sadness and anger and despair and fury. If she thought this was somehow going to smooth things over, she was sorely mistaken, but something inside of me was happy I now had this painting.
I wasn’t exactly sure what to do with it. I pushed it off to the side as my mind finally began to slow down, the alcohol in my system dulling my senses. I went back to the couch and flopped down, pulling a blanket over me as I kicked off my shoes. I didn’t know if I should keep it, hang it in the office, or try giving it to my parents.
I wasn’t sure why I was still trying to smooth things over with my parents anyway. They were lying, pompous assholes, but at least they were forthcoming about it. You always knew what you were getting yourself into with them. They were unapologetically dickish.
But Hailey had been a surprise.
She had been a manipulative liar underneath all those layers of freedom and spirit.
I felt my stomach rolling with sickness as I closed my eyes and took deep breaths.
But instead of seeing her body tonight, I saw John and me at the cabin, running around outside and chasing lightning bugs as we tried to catch them in our hole-punched jars.
I didn’t wake up with an erection, but I did wake up with tears in my eyes and glass glistening on the floor, mocking me as if my entire life was a joke.
Chapter 2
Hailey
“I just don’t know what to do, Anna. I’ve tried everything I can.”
“Hailey, I know how much you’re hurting, but you did hold a great deal back from him. He has every right to be upset with you.”
“But it’s been a month now since that episode. The gallery’s open. I wanted him to be there for its opening. He should’ve been there,” I said.
“I know, sweetheart. I can hear in your voice how much you still love him. But he needs time. You held back the fact that you knew his brother, that you had his paintings, and that you were there when he died. That’s a very serious pill to swallow.”
“You hate me for it, too, don’t you?” I asked.
“No. I was shocked when you told me. Really shocked. And I can understand his anger. You just have to let him cool down. You need to try to understand that this might be it. Just from
interacting with him the little I did back in July, he seems to hold it really close to his heart. You’ve got to give him time.”
“I went and gave him that painting,” I said.
“You went to his house?” she asked.
“Well, I’ve done it a few times. In the morning, trying to catch him before work, but he never answered. He didn’t answer tonight, either.”
“What did you do with the painting?” she asked.
“I left it on his doorstep. I figured if he wasn’t home, he’d have to come home eventually, and he’ll see it.”
“Do you think he’ll like it?”
“I can’t think of any other person who would appreciate it the way he would, not even me,” I said. “Anna, I tried everything. Calling. Leaving voicemails apologizing. Sending text messages. I stopped trying to apologize and just started sending him photos of my day, things I wanted him to see. I was going to send him photos of the opening of the gallery, but he blocked my number.”
“I remember you telling me,” she said.
“My heart aches.”
“Then think about how he feels. He poured himself out to you, and you kept your secrets close.”
“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” I asked.
“It’s supposed to help you see his point of view. He’s hurting, too. A great deal.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get him back.”
“I think he’ll come to his senses eventually. If it’s meant to be, at least. Either way, he needs time to digest all that you told him. From the sounds of the conversation, you threw everything at him so quickly, there’s a chance he still didn’t digest all of it.”
“I just kept sobbing and apologizing, hoping he would just scoop me up into his arms,” I said, sniffling.
“I know, Hailey. I know. It’s going to be all right. No matter how this pans out and no matter what happens from here, you’ve got your gallery. I’ll come see you soon. I can tell you all about my voice lessons.”
“Wait, you’ve been taking voice lessons?” I asked. “Since when?”
“Since I got back after our fourth of July blowout. I felt rejuvenated after that trip and... I came back and scheduled things. I’m taking two lessons a week.”
“Anna, that’s incredible,” I said, smiling. “Yes, you’ll have to tell me all about them when you come back down here.”
“I know he’s still on your mind,” she said. “And I know I can’t distract you from it. Just know that life is still going. Don’t do what he did with his life. Don’t dwell on the past so much that it eats your present alive.”
“It’s been a month, Anna. Shouldn’t he be well past his blind rage at this point? I’m not asking him not to be upset, but I just had this feeling when I walked up onto his porch,” I said.
“What kind of feeling?”
“Like anger was seeping through the walls at me. It was stifling. It almost choked my voice in my throat,” I said.
“Hailey, you can’t put a timeframe on how long someone should be angry at something like this before they let it go. He’s held onto the guilt that eats him alive from his brother’s death for years. If anything, that’s an indication of how long he holds onto stuff.”
“Shit.”
“I’m sorry I can’t give you any better advice,” she said.
“No, no. Talking to me helps. Thank you for picking up.”
“I’ll always pick up for you,” she said.
“I should’ve told him the truth from the beginning. I should’ve told him I was at that fucking bar.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I panicked. I thought maybe he would see it as an intrusion, that some chick who sort of taught his brother how to paint a few times had barged in on an intimate ceremony. He knocked on my door and was standing there, and I didn’t want to scare him off. I didn’t want to open that can of worms and didn’t want him to start asking questions.”
“Questions about how his brother died?” she asked.
“Yeah. I didn’t know if he knew or if his family knew the entire story. And when I was rambling and sobbing and trying to get everything out at once, it was like I’d slapped him with a hot frying pan.”
“He didn’t know?” she asked. “That his brother was murdered?”
“I don’t think he did, and that’s what I was afraid of. I was afraid of opening all this and of him hearing it from such an impersonal person.”
“But you didn’t become an impersonal person, Hailey. That’s the point. That man fell in love with you.”
“Damn it, Anna. I know that now, but I didn’t know it back then. I mean, not until I felt the same way, and then we were in love and enjoying life, and I didn’t want to ruin things.”
“Or risk losing him?” she asked.
“That, too,” I said, whispering.
“Hailey, with stuff like this, there’s never a good time to talk about it. There’s never a good time to bring it up. As long as you realize you made a series of mistakes that led to hurting that man, that’s enough. You can’t go back and change it. You can only move forward.”
“I want to move forward with him,” I said, sniffling.
“I’m not sure you can. You have to give him space and time. He obviously wants it if he’s blocked your number. You gave him the painting. You didn’t sell it to anyone, despite the fact that many people wanted to buy it. Let that be enough. Leave the man alone for a little while and see what happens,” she said.
“Do you think he believed me?” I asked.
“Believed what?”
“The things I told him about what happened to his brother. With all the deception, do you think he even believed me?”
“At this point, I’m liable to think it might be a good thing if he doesn’t for now. I can’t imagine how he must be feeling, much less trying to digest something like that,” she said.
“My gosh, I bet he’d be even angrier at me,” I said breathlessly. “I don’t think I’ll ever get him back.”
“Just try this,” she said. “Just start coping with that reality. Move forward like you won’t get him back. Go through the grieving and healing process. If he comes back to you, it’s a pleasant surprise. If he doesn’t, you’ve already started the process of coping, so the reality of the situation won’t be so hard. But there’s something I need you to understand.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“What happened to John’s brother. The criminals. The student. The murder. The other stuff. It’s not your fault. Do you hear me?”
“I feel like it is some days,” I said.
“It’s not your fault. You can’t carry that guilt around. If Bryan doesn’t forgive you, then so be it, but don’t be like him. Don’t let it consume you. You have your gallery. You have your community that you’re reaching into. You’re doing a great deal of good. Bryan will make the decision he makes, and there’s nothing you can do about it but keep moving forward.”
“When did you get so smart?” I asked.
“When I graduated with this idiotic law degree,” she said, snickering. “Getting right off that topic, have you given any more thought to showing John’s paintings? I know you hung up the cabin painting as a decoration, and people were trying to buy it right off the wall.”
“I don’t want to show them until I’ve reconciled with Bryan. Good or bad, it doesn’t feel right to showcase them until Bryan knows they’re being hung. Having that one up as a decoration and seeing how people flocked to it felt wonderful, but it didn’t feel right.”
“I can see that,” she said. “You feel like it might be insult to injury.”
“Exactly. The last time we saw each other, we were talking about him, and it led to one of the most heartbreaking moments of my life. I don’t want to walk into this gallery and see those paintings and be reminded of heartbreak. I want to walk in and look at those paintings and be reminded of the beautiful soul behind them who painted them, and I want Bryan to e
njoy them too. Maybe even his parents, if they ever come around.”
“Yeah, after that dinner you told me about, maybe not bank on that so much,” she said.
“I don’t want to put them up yet. I’m not ready, and it doesn’t feel right.”
“Putting them up might give closure to everyone involved though, right?” she asked.
“I don’t think so. I can’t imagine something like that bringing closure to something so horrendous.”
“Depends on how you interpret it. Yes, it was a horrendous thing, and the decisions made by many parties after it resulted in the fight you and Bryan had. But there’s beauty in those paintings, and out of all that awfulness and darkness, there are these wonderful paintings that deserve to see the light of day.”
“I’m just not ready, okay?” I asked. “Can you respect that?”
“Okay. All right. Fine. I’ll back off.”
“Tell me about your voice lessons,” I said.
“And rob you of the decadence of boxed wine while we chat about them face-to-face? Not so much.”
“Finally figured out buying boxed wine is cheaper than buying five bottles?” I asked.
“Buy a bundle. Yikes. I saved, like, thirty bucks.”
“You are more than welcome anytime,” I said, smiling. “Just warn me before you’re at the airport in San Diego that I need to come get you.”
“I was desperate! It was an emergency.”
“I know, I know, and I’m glad you felt comfortable fleeing to me. Speaking of, how are things with Mom and Dad?” I asked.
“Still pestering me about making partner. I told them I was doing the best I could, but my heart wasn’t in it for making partner. I told them I didn’t see myself in that role and that I saw myself opening my own practice or something.”
“Anna?” I asked. “What does that mean?”
