It was funny how so much could change in a year when I wasn’t really paying that much attention. Change was an everyday occurrence. Some of them were noticeable the moment they happened, yet seemingly insignificant in the grand scheme of life. Changes like the exterior of a building switching from one colour to the next, or the suddenly empty spot at the end of the street where the bus shelter once sat. Other changes were built in subtle increments that weren’t seen, but rather felt. They started off small, barely noticeable, shattering and creating the pieces that made me, until eventually I became a different person altogether. And it was only when I sat back and reevaluated life that I was finally able to notice the magnitude of those changes.

As I stared into the distance watching as Mrs. Clements fiddled wither her umbrella, struggling to pop it open, I wondered how I could have missed everything around me. Her eyes, once alive and carefree, now held a sullen emptiness as she flashed a brief smile my way from across the street. When Mr. Clements passed away the previous spring, he’d taken the bigger part of his wife’s soul with him. She was no longer the same old lady who graced us with fresh lemonade during the hot summer days. She no longer sent over a flask of soup for the gardener during the winter months, knowing my parents wouldn’t have been around. The way her chin seemed to always be permanently angled towards the ground beneath her proved just how sad she now was. I watched as the umbrella sprang free and her tired feet carried her down the street, one step and bend of the knee at a time.

I shook away the dark thoughts that I found myself drowning in and headed through the back gate that lead to the grounds of my parents’ property. It was one of only five houses on the gated street.

When I finished college I’d decided it was time to move out. It seemed silly to rent an apartment somewhere else when there was a small apartment at the back of the house that had been unused since it had been built. It was far away from the main house and had its own entrance. I could come and go without interference from my parents. I would be responsible for the bills and maintenance, which meant I wasn’t relying on my father’s money. Nearly everything about it was like a rental, anyway, so it made sense to move in there. Or maybe it just seemed easier. I was rarely home since I’d joined Winslow Town Football Club on a season long deal after college. It was easier to crash out on a mate’s couch than travel the forty minutes back home after a long day of training. At least that’s what I told myself.

College seemed like a lifetime ago now. Back then life had been pretty easy. I didn’t have to worry about what I would do after finishing college—something I definitely took for granted. Life was much harder now. The persistent worry of whether I’d be kept on at Winslow F.C. for another season was a constant reminder of that. After suffering a knee injury at the beginning of last season, I was benched with no indication when I’d be out on the field again. Coach never thought I’d performed well enough in practice, even when I was cleared for fitness. The boss simply showed no interest in keeping me on the first team. I was left on the bench, frustrated and worried, wondering if I would ever get to play football again. I didn’t have my father's money to fall back on or his ties to pretty much everyone he had ever encountered to guarantee a career. Well, I did, but when my father’s affair had been made public last year, I decided I no longer needed or wanted anything from him. Call me stubborn, but finding out that that affair had also created a love child was more than I could mentally handle. Our father-son relationship hadn’t been the same since.

I knew I wasn’t alone with my feelings. My mum had known about the affair all along, and while she continued to stay with my father, it was clear that she still held resentment towards him. I couldn’t understand how she continued to go on as though everything was normal. Family dinners weren’t easy, especially with Taylor continually making his presence known around the place. But my mum was strong. She had me… most of the time. Something my father no longer had at all.

At first, I didn’t blame Taylor for sticking around and trying his hand at the family thing. All his life he’d been led to believe that my Uncle Tom had been his father, and when Tom was sent to prison, Taylor completely lost it. He drank himself stupid most days and rarely made it to college back then. Not only did his grades drop, he no longer cared about the team, either. The rare times he’d shown his face at college, he was so out of it that I’d had to take him home to sober up. Watching Taylor go through that was fucking hard, and looking back I wasn’t sure how I managed to pull him back from Hell, but somehow I did. I’d managed to stop him from making a massive mistake, and for a while he was Taylor again. Smart. A decent fucking striker. Arrogant, but as loyal as they came. He was the cousin I’d always looked up to. However, it wasn’t long before a secret came to light and sent him into another tailspin, this time with the knowledge that his entire life had been a lie. Tom wasn’t Taylor’s real father. My dad was. My dad. My dad had had an affair with Taylor's mum Marie—my mum’s sister—resulting in a secret love child. Taylor and I had been raised as cousins our entire lives, when we were actually half-brothers. Taylor went nuts when he learned the truth. Under any other circumstances, I would have been the one to once again pull him back from Hell, but things had been weird since the family secret had been revealed, and I wasn’t doing great myself. Then there was Taylor who had just learned to accept that his father was a criminal, only to realise he had another one who not only rejected him as a kid, but who happened to be a liar, too. Both of my parents were liars, one of them suffering from a betrayal she'd buried years ago. I tried to accept it all. I tried to be there for Taylor, but it was as if he didn't feel like he could talk to me about the deep shit that was going on in his head anymore because it affected me, too. I understood how he felt. I hadn't wanted to talk to him about that stuff either. In the end, it was Lola who had pulled Taylor from the edge. Now they were joined at the hip. Unbreakable. I hadn’t been so lucky. The only person I had to offload to was my mum, and I couldn’t do that to her. She was going through her own battles and learning to accept that my dad had another kid who was now in his life for good.

I pulled my keys from the back pocket of my jeans and unlocked the door before dumping my bag onto the floor and heading into the sitting room. I slumped back onto my leather recliner and kicked my feet up, staring blankly at the white walls that met me.

Mum had messaged me earlier to ask what my plans were for the weekend now that the season was over. I hadn’t told her I was coming home. I knew the second I did she would leave work early and jump on the next train back. I loved my mum, but since I’d learned of the affair, she had become overbearing. It was as if she was trying to protect me from it all, but it was a little too late for that now. I just wanted to get on with my life and forget it ever happened, which of course, I couldn’t. Reminders of the affair were there every day, right in my face—constant reminders of just how fucked up the world really was. A world where a man would sleep with his wife’s sister and create a love child, then spend the next twenty or so years acting as though that child never existed, and still come out smelling of roses.

I needed to find a way to keep myself busy until the call came in… the one that would define who I was. One call and my life would be mapped out for me. Winslow F.C. would say they were letting me go and a new club would offer me a contract. I would say yes, as if I had a choice, and that would be it. I’d pack up my shit and head to whichever stadium I would be spending the next season. I had no choice but to take whatever was offered to me—if I was offered anything at all—because I wasn’t Taylor. I didn’t have the world at my feet, a handful of clubs there for the taking. No, Taylor was the talented brother. He was the one every club wanted.

I was proud of him. I’d always known he had the talent to make it big. Growing up I’d been his biggest supporter, standing on the sidelines watching him destroy everything in sight. But for once, just once, I wanted a glimpse of the good stuff, to feel the buzz around me knowing I’d been the reason for it. For once, I wanted what he had. For once, I wanted to be wanted.

I tossed my head back against the cushion and groaned.

What the fuck had happened to me in one year alone?