Fifteen

 

“GOD, AM I glad to see you,” Aaron said as he met Allen on the porch with the biggest hug one brother could possibly give another. Allen dropped his bag of laundry from one hand and his duffel of clean clothes from the other and hugged Aaron back. They stayed like that for probably a minute too long, until their mother appeared in the doorway waiting for her hugs. Their father brought up Allen’s other backpack from the car. He and Anthony had made the drive to collect Allen from college. Aaron had wanted to go but stayed for his session with Dr. Thomas and a phone call from Mr. Sorensen. The trial date hadn’t changed, and Aaron counted down the days with mounting dread. On that, the day before Thanksgiving, the magic number stood at twelve. In less than two weeks he would be forced to sit in front of the monsters who destroyed his life and recite with horrible accuracy all the things they did to him.

He shook off the dark thought and shouldered Allen’s laundry bag as their mother hugged Allen. Anthony shot between Aaron and doorframe, dodging the foyer table to head down the hall. Aaron followed at a slower pace, struggling with the canvas bag overstuffed with dirty clothes. He dropped them in the kitchen next to the stairs for the basement and went into the family room to leave Allen time with his parents. He and Allen could catch up later.

As he curled up on the couch, Aaron wondered if Spencer would be spending the weekend with his dad and maybe Nell, who Spencer had thought might fly up for the weekend. God, he hated being away from Spencer. He hurt every fucking day, but with the expectations and the responsibility of keeping Spencer happy gone, he found he could concentrate on his sessions with Dr. Thomas and on the testimony he would have to give. The prosecutor said they’d had a couple of pretrial motions, whatever that meant, but he would still need to be there a week from Monday to start his testimony. It might go on to Tuesday but shouldn’t take longer than that. He needed to be there until the jury went into deliberation, and then again for the verdict and sentencing. The prosecutor wanted Aaron’s scarred, pathetic face in front of the jury to help bolster his case.

And Aaron would go, because he owed it to Juliette.

He’d tried to tell his mother she didn’t need to be there. She hadn’t heard all of the gory details and didn’t need to live with those images in her head. But the prosecutor said her visibility with the jury would also be key. Dr. Thomas, the one person who had heard all of his darkest secrets, didn’t have to show up but assured Aaron he would. All hands on deck for the maiden voyage of the S.S. Humiliation.

His phone rang, muffled in his pocket, and he checked the display before answering.

“Hey, Jordan.”

“Hey.” His voice sounded as dry and brittle as the leaves on the late autumn trees outside his window. Aaron’s gut twisted at the lack of joking affection in Jordan’s voice. Allen and his mother came laughing and talking down the hall, so Aaron ducked into the downstairs bathroom so he could hear.

“You okay?”

“Not really.”

“What’s up? You want to come over?” Aaron asked. He’d never been to Jordan’s house, but he’d already taken his meds and didn’t feel great about getting behind the wheel right then.

“I don’t… I don’t know, maybe. My mom just got picked up for a DUI. It’s not her first, so they’re gonna keep her. I’m just… I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

“Give me your address. We’ll come and get you. I can’t drive right now, but my brother can. You can stay here for the weekend. Okay? Pack a bag.”

Aaron wrote down Jordan’s address and stumbled a little as he opened the bathroom door. Voices from the kitchen drew his attention, and he went that way. Allen sat on one of the stools at the island while their mother laid a crust into a pie pan. In the bowl next to it sat a light fudge-colored concoction that he assumed was chocolate pie filling. Vaguely, he remembered sitting where Allen had while his mother and grandmother flitted around the kitchen making preparations for Thanksgiving Day.

“Mom, uhm….” Aaron started and then decided he probably should have talked to his parents before asking Jordan to stay, but the words were out before he really thought about them. He didn’t want his friend to hurt. Jordan helped his sanity so much since he’d heard about that damn trial. He kept things light and didn’t know the extent of Aaron’s trauma. With Jordan, he could be kind of normal.

“What is it, honey?” she asked, putting down the fork she’d just used in a vicious, stabbing crustocide.

“Jordan is having some family problems. His mom won’t be home, and he’ll be alone for Thanksgiving. I… I kind of asked him to stay here.” Aaron rushed, surprised his words didn’t get jumbled somewhere between his pharmaceutically addled brain and his mouth.

“Oh, honey, well…. Well, okay, we’ll make it work.” His mother picked up the bowl and started spooning the gloop into the crust. His mother had such a wonderful, kind soul. She could not keep from helping a kid in trouble. The fact that the kid was a friend of her broken son would have made it even more imperative.

“Allen, he’s so upset, I didn’t want him to drive. Can you take me to pick him up? I know you just got home, I’m sorry, but it’s only about ten minutes from here,” Aaron said hopefully. Allen looked at him for a long minute with his brows furrowed. Aaron’s heart stuttered because he really thought Allen would say no.

“That’s the first time you’ve ever asked me for anything, man. Of course, I will.” Allen stood up. “Mom, we’ll be right back. Tell Anthony to get ready to get his ass kicked in Mario Kart when I get back.”

“Allen Peter,” his mother cried. “No language like that in my kitchen.” Then she lowered her voice and winked. “But he will be so warned.”

Aaron grabbed the little key chain, emblazoned with a panther paw from their high school, and tossed it to Allen. He thought about asking Anthony to join them, but he wanted to talk to Allen about their brother, so he said nothing as they went out the front door and climbed into Allen’s Mustang. Aaron had pulled the car out of the garage and parked it on the street so his brother would have access to it during his visit home.

“It feels weird to drive,” Allen said with a laugh and turned the engine over. “I take the bus or walk everywhere on campus. Chad has a car, so sometimes we’ll take that and go out to dinner.”

“I’ve been driving it since you left for school. It’s been a really big help.”

“I’m glad you finally got your license, slacker.” Allen smirked as he pulled out of the subdivision and onto the main road. God, Aaron had missed him. He was the only one who ever gave Aaron shit about anything. “Okay, where are we going?”

Aaron plugged the address into his phone and let it call out the immediate directions. When it stopped talking, he started.

“We don’t have much time, but I wanted to talk to you about Anthony.”

“You still think he’s using?” Allen glanced quickly at his brother. Allen and Anthony had been in the shit together when Aaron first came home from the hospital. Aaron saw them as the two musketeers, limping along after losing their third.

“Yeah, I do.” Aaron didn’t want to put it quite so bluntly, but he wanted to get the foundation laid before they picked up Jordan. Allen would be upset, and he didn’t need to get upset in front of a stranger.

“Why would you say that?” Allen’s voice held more resignation than surprise.

“He’s gone all the time to ‘parties.’ Neither of us partied like that at fourteen. He stays over at his friend Chase’s a lot. There’s rarely anyone at our house—why don’t they stay there? And, well, he’s come home a couple of times looking stoned and stumbling,” Aaron explained. He hoped with all his heart Jordan was wrong, but it didn’t look likely.

“You’re sure it’s not booze?”

“Yeah, he didn’t smell like it when we picked him up.”

“What do you think it is? Pot? Coke? Worse?”

“Jordan was with me one time when he came home, and he thinks Anthony is going to pharm parties.”

“There aren’t any farms around here.”

“Not farm F-A-R-M, but pharm P-H-A-R-M. He said that kids bring prescription drugs from home and throw them in a big bowl and then take them and get high.” Aaron hated the way that sounded because he really didn’t get why anyone would take a drug like that if they didn’t have to. He wished every day he could function without them.

“How would he know?”

“He used to do it.”

“Great. Have you talked to Anthony or Mom?” Allen asked, and Aaron noticed his hands tighten on the wheel. The computerized GPS voice called out another upcoming turn, and he flipped on the signal.

“No. I didn’t want to believe it was true. In fact, I told myself Mom was hiding my pills rather than face the idea that Anthony had stolen them. Then when Dr. Thomas put me on these new ones, I kept them in Mom and Dad’s bathroom like I used to. A few days ago, I came home from a session and Anthony was in my room. The drawer where I used to keep the pills I hid wasn’t closed all the way.” Now that Aaron said it aloud, it sounded so stupid. He should have known.

“You didn’t confront him about it?”

“No, I wanted to talk to you about it. He listens to you. And you’re right, because of me, he’s had such a shit life. I didn’t want to make it worse by telling our parents he has a drug problem.”

“We don’t know that he has a drug problem. You drank to hide the pain, but you quit. Maybe we can get him to quit.” Allen pulled up in front of a three-floor apartment building and put the car into park. Both of them looked out the window at the same time, and Allen hit the locks.

“This is where your friend lives?” Allen asked, and Aaron tried to pry his gaze away from the small group of guys who looked like gangbangers you’d see on television. They were just standing around by the front door of the apartment building, smoking and drinking out of a paper bag they seemed to be passing around.

“The sign says it’s 2304, so this has to be it.”

“I’m not getting out of the car, and neither are you. Call him and tell him we’re out front.”

Though Allen was the younger brother, his voice made it clear he would accept no argument even if Aaron had been inclined to give one. But no way was he getting out of the car, not even for Jordan. Those guys scared the fuck out of him.

[Aaron] Hey, we are out front in an orange Mustang.

[Jordan] On my way down.

“He says he’s on his way down,” Aaron relayed.

“Let’s hope he doesn’t slip on a crack pipe or something.”

“Not everyone was born into the white middle class, Allen,” Aaron said. The sentiment would have made his econ teacher from last semester very proud. The front door of the building opened, and Jordan stepped out. He high-fived one of the guys sitting on the low steps and stopped to say something to another before strolling to the car. Aaron wondered if he faked the casualness or if he was truly unconcerned with his surroundings.

“Hey,” he said as he crawled into the back after Allen unlocked the doors with reluctance. “Thank you.”

“Hi. Jordan, this is my brother, Allen,” Aaron said, and Allen gave him a quick half nod and “Hey,” while Jordan thanked him again for the ride.

“My mom had the car, so it’s probably been impounded. I’m glad I can walk to work.”

“You walk in this neighborhood?” Allen asked, sounding more impressed than incredulous, which surprised Aaron.

“Yeah, mostly. Mommy and Daddy don’t generally buy us cars around here, sport.”

Aaron hated the defensive note in Jordan’s voice but snorted at the way he put Allen in his place. Allen’s stiff posture didn’t change as they found their way back to the main road with the help of their GPS computer girlfriend. No one spoke. As they passed, the landscape changed from boarded-up buildings to strip malls and gated subdivisions.

“Hey, my dad took off, and Mom and I do what we can,” Jordan said, still defensive.

“I’m not judging you,” Aaron said as he turned to look over the seat.

“Maybe not, but he is.” Jordan indicated Allen with a jerk of his head. “Life kind of goes to shit when your brother is murdered, man.”

“Oh, really? You want to exchange brother horror stories?” Allen yelled, and in the confines of the closed car, the sound reverberated off the walls and hurt Aaron’s ears.

“No, no we don’t. Can we just go back home, Allen? Bad shit happens, and we are all trying to deal with it.” Aaron rubbed his forehead, trying to stem the headache he could feel coming. They pulled up to the curb in front of the house, and Allen climbed out without another word, slamming the car door behind him.

Great.

Allen’s first weekend home from college, and Aaron fucked that up too. He got out of the car, and Jordan walked beside him to the front door.

“Look, if this is going to be a problem, man, it’s not like I haven’t been alone for Thanksgiving before. And seriously, I don’t even remember what turkey looks like.”

“He’ll get over it. I had just told him about Anthony and the drugs right before we picked you up. He has some things he needs to work through right now.”

“Story of my life,” Jordan said with a sigh.

“Yeah, me too.”

 

 

IT TURNED out to be the longest weekend of Aaron’s life, but it took his mind off the trial, even if just for a few days. Because all the beds were occupied, his mother set Jordan up on the couch in the family room, where Allen and Anthony decided to play video games until two in the morning. In retaliation, Jordan slipped the word “farm” into any conversation for which Anthony or Allen happened to be within earshot. Aaron thought things would come to blows when Allen attempted to point out Jordan’s building on Grand Theft Auto in a part of the virtual town covered in graffiti.

Things came to a head Saturday night when Aaron’s parents went out for a quiet evening alone, something they hadn’t had in quite some time. The four boys sat in the family room, Anthony and Allen playing a video game while Jordan and Aaron watched.

“Have you heard anything about what’s happening with your mom?” Aaron asked as Anthony shoved Allen over after he won yet another game. Under the cover of Allen’s laughter, Jordan answered.

“Her lawyer said they’ll probably have a bail hearing on Monday. I’ll have to see if I can get my dad to bail her out or something. I have no idea what’s going to happen. There’s enough in her checking account to cover the rent for December, but….” Jordan shrugged and looked away. Aaron noticed the silence and glanced over toward the television to see his brothers watching them. Anthony’s mouth gaped open, and Allen laughed silently behind his hand.

“You think it’s funny?” Jordan asked, standing up. “Your mother’s son was injured, and it sucked, no doubt. My mom? She lost her whole fucking family in one horrifying afternoon. One son with his chest blown open, the other too fucked up to function, scared of his own shadow, with PTSD triggers for loud noises, blood, and probably shit I don’t even know yet. And then, on top of everything else, her husband can’t hack life and moves out, leaving her to deal with the aftermath alone. So yeah, she drinks. Hell, I do too. And you,” he said, jerking his head at Anthony, “you know how I knew you were pharming? That’s how I fucking got through high school, because we didn’t have the money to pay for a fancy shrink to medicate me. You want to laugh at me? Well, fuck you.” He stood up, ignoring Aaron’s restraining hand, strode over to the stairs, and went up them.

Aaron stared at his brothers, who stared back at him.

“We didn’t know,” Allen said quietly, by way of apology.

“I met Jordan on a support group for PTSD survivors, Allen. That didn’t clue you in to the fact that something horrible happened to him? He survived a school shooting, where he watched his brother, his twin brother, bleed out in front of him. Neither of you can possibly know what it’s like to watch someone you love die right in front of you.” Aaron growled at his brothers, angry on Jordan’s behalf. Not just because they’d hurt Jordan, but because he knew what it was like to have people give you shit for things in your life you couldn’t control.

“We’ll apologize,” Allen said, pulling himself up off the floor while Anthony did the same.

“Wait a minute,” Aaron said, not standing but just looking up at his younger brothers, who both took a step back. He stared right at Anthony and asked, “Is he right?”

“About what?”

“Don’t play stupid, Anthony.”

Anthony didn’t say anything, but his expression spoke volumes: guilt, regret, and shame showed from every part of his face.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Mom doesn’t have enough shit to worry about without you risking your life doing stupid shit?” Aaron’s scathing rebuke made his youngest brother cringe, and he didn’t respond. “I’m going upstairs to get Jordan. Why don’t you try talking some sense into him?” he asked Allen and left the room without another word.

Jordan sat on the far edge of the bed, staring out of the window overlooking the backyard. Aaron covered the room in a few steps and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Without moving or taking his eyes off the window, Jordan sighed.

“We had a house like this once, with a nice backyard. The bank took it. We’ve been at the apartment for almost three years. It sucks, yeah, but I’m not on the street, and she does the best she can.”

“I’m not judging you, and they won’t be anymore either. They didn’t know about seeing your brother’s death. I didn’t feel it was my place to tell them, especially over Thanksgiving dinner.” Aaron sat down on the bed and slid up against the headboard. “You were right about Anthony. Allen is downstairs talking to him about it now. We’ll talk about it later, but with all the shit my mom has going on right now, unless we think he’s in trouble, Allen will make him stop. He listens to Allen more than anyone else. Our family dynamic is a little fucked up too.”

“Whose isn’t?”

“Amen. You want to stay up here or go back down with them?” Aaron asked. He pulled out his phone and checked the display, hoping to see a text or e-mail from Spencer. But he seemed to be taking their separation seriously. And if Spencer had been asking Dr. Thomas how he was doing, no one mentioned it to him. He hated it. Things weren’t less stressful without Spencer. In fact, he’d started having trouble sleeping. But he couldn’t stand the imagined look on Spencer’s face as he listened to all of the horrible things he’d had to do that night. All the horrible things they did to him. Spencer knew about it in the abstract, but listening to all of the unvarnished details could mean the end of their relationship.

“I guess.” Jordan didn’t look convinced.

“Will Chinese food make it better? My treat.” Aaron smiled at him and grabbed his wallet off the dresser. “Come on, we’ll order all kinds of different things and share.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jordan followed him to the stairs, but even before they reached the halfway landing that spiraled down into the hallway, they heard Allen yelling.

“I only got my older brother back, Anthony. I can’t lose my little brother too. If you can’t stop or you won’t stop, we’re going to have to let Mom deal with it.”

“No, I don’t do it all the time. I won’t go anymore, Allen, I promise. Just don’t tell Mom,” Anthony begged. “I don’t really even like how it makes me feel. I don’t know why I kept going.”

“You think he means it?” Jordan asked as they reached the first floor and stopped in the hall, waiting for the yelling to stop.

“He promised Allen he wouldn’t drink anymore, and he doesn’t. At least, I don’t think he does. So I think he means it.”

“Jesus, alcohol and pills, all before he’s even old enough to drive.”

“Yeah, maybe we should tell Mom so they can get him into therapy before he ends up picking people off from rooftops.”

“Yeah, that’s really not funny.” Jordan’s low, irritated voice carried, so Aaron began moving toward the family room again so his brothers didn’t think they were spying.

“Sorry,” he told Jordan over his shoulder. “I wasn’t making light.”

“I know.”

His brothers were all for ordering Chinese, so after grabbing menus from the takeout drawer he grabbed a pen and took down what everyone wanted. Allen called it in, using Aaron’s debit card to pay. The conversation died in the wake of Anthony’s confession while they waited for the food.

Aaron spent the rest of dinner, and indeed the rest of the night, trying to decide what to do about Anthony.

 

 

HIS PHONE rang just as they backed out of the driveway to take Jordan home the next day, and it surprised Aaron to see Dr. Thomas’s name on the display.

“Is it Mom?” Allen asked as he put the car in drive and started out of the subdivision.

“No, hang on,” he told Allen and then answered the phone.

“Hi, Aaron, just wanted to make sure you remembered about the start of the conference tomorrow.”

Aaron stared out of the car window, fighting the fog and trying to figure out what Dr. Thomas was talking about.

“Conference? Does it have something to do with the trial? We weren’t supposed to have to deal with that until next week.” Panic made Aaron’s voice rise, and Jordan put a hand on his shoulder from the backseat to steady him. They said he still had a week. He couldn’t deal with it, not yet.

“No, it’s just a gathering of other PTSD survivors to get strategies for coping. You don’t have to go. I just thought it would be good for you. We talked about this at the beginning of the summer. You don’t remember?”

“I don’t remember much these days. You really want me to go?” A long, slow exhalation of breath accompanied his question. God, it hurt to even think about. He didn’t want to spend the day surrounded by people, especially strangers he’d never seen.

“I think it would help, yes. There is a special breakout session on testifying and coping with those stresses. We could sit through it if you want.”

“You won’t leave me?”

“I have to speak at a couple of the sessions, but you can go with me if you want.”

“Can Jordan go with me?”

“I suppose, but Spencer will be there.”

“Spencer?”

“He’s arranged to work longer hours the rest of the week so he can attend with you. It’s important to him, so I didn’t think you would mind,” Dr. Thomas said, like they were discussing lunch rather than spending time with Spencer a week before the trial. God, he felt so awful, and he hadn’t even spoken to Spencer in almost two weeks. Things would be all kinds of awkward.

“Are you picking me up?” Resignation filled his tone. He didn’t want to go, but if Dr. Thomas thought it might help him get through the trial the following week, he had to try.

“Yes, we will pick you up at seven and then drive downtown. The conference will be at the Hyatt.”

Fuck.