Seven

“COME ON, guys. We have to go or we’re going to hit traffic,” Aaron’s father said as he shoved Allen’s last box into the back of their Durango. They’d filled the cargo area of the truck so full with stuff Allen had decided to take to college that it poked Aaron in the back of the head as he piled in behind his parents. Allen climbed in to sit in the middle, and Anthony took the far side, just behind their mother. As their father got behind the wheel, their mother turned around in her seat. The bags under her eyes could have accommodated Allen’s college stuff easily, but no one said anything. They knew the toll her mother’s illness took on her.

“Everybody ready?”

“Yeah, Mom,” Allen said as he tugged the seat belt out from under Aaron’s ass to buckle it around him. Then he jabbed Anthony with a shoulder to make him buckle up too. Aaron took the hint without the nudge, and they were ready. It would take them about four hours to get to Lafayette, Indiana, where they’d help Allen get situated in the dorm and then turn around and drive back to their western suburb with one less child.

It was nothing like the trips they’d taken when Aaron was a kid, before the world had changed. Back then, he and his brothers played the “he’s touching me” game for miles before their parents threatened to pull over and leave them. Or they would play I-Spy with increasingly outlandish things to find until they doubled over with giggles. There were no giggles on this trip. Mostly the sounds included angry whispers from Anthony’s headphones or the ding of Allen’s iPhone as he sent excited texts back and forth with his friends. Aaron simply read quietly on the Kindle his mother had bought him for successfully passing his first college class. It was his “congratulations on functioning” present, much like the MP3 player she got him as a “congratulations on surviving” present when he got out of the hospital.

The book took him through until they were about an hour from Purdue, when they pulled over to get gas and food, their last meal together as a family. As much as he wanted Allen to have a normal life away from his personal black hole of insanity, the idea depressed him. They found an Olive Garden, one of Allen’s favorites, and pulled into the lot. When the nice lady took them to a table in the back, Aaron could have kissed her as he slid into one of the seats next to the wall between his brothers. No space for a waitress to sneak up on him or drop things on him. He could stay in his little bubble away from the outside world and mourn his brother’s pending absence, just as he mourned Spencer’s absence.

He’d managed to keep Spencer out of his thoughts all day. It was his first weekend in the new apartment, and he probably had a lot of unpacking to do as he settled in for a nice long stay away from Aaron. Deep down, Aaron knew Spencer thought he’d move up there with him once he’d sorted out his issues, but Spencer didn’t really understand that he’d never sort them out like that. Not to be able to live in a large city full of people or hold down a job. He didn’t want to think about what would happen to him once his parents were gone and he became that crazy uncle everyone seems to have, burdened on his brothers.

Dinner at the restaurant was a rather subdued affair. His mother kept them talking about what a wonderful time Allen would have and all the new and amazing friends he’d make. Aaron noticed, with each new way Allen would love college, Anthony sank down farther in his chair, until he practically slid under the table. Aaron understood. He would miss Allen too. But Allen had been everything to Anthony since the world started to revolve around Aaron. He hadn’t really seen it until then and wished he could be more to his youngest brother.

By the time they’d finished their tiramisu, conversation had died down again. They were just an hour from the college and Allen’s departure. He’d text with Allen, of course, but Allen would be busy with his own life, just like Spencer was. Why did things ever have to change? Change in his life did nothing but destroy his ability to live.

As much as Aaron wanted to see Allen’s new dorm, he opted to stay downstairs and pull boxes out of the car while the family carried his belongings up to the room. Too many people littered the stairs and hallways for him to take a chance on going up. The hot late-August day didn’t afford him much to hide his scars. So he grabbed a box overflowing with video games and comic books and set it on the ground next to the car. Allen had just taken another box up to the building when his phone buzzed. He crawled into the back of the car and folded his legs under him.

[Spencer] Having fun?

[Aaron] I’m sitting in the back of the car. How much fun could it be?

[Spencer] Why are you just sitting in the car?

[Aaron] They’re taking Allen’s stuff up to the dorm. Too many people, so I stayed with the car. No reason to make him an outcast by showing off his freak brother the first day.

[Spencer] You are not a freak. Most of what you imagine people are saying about you is just that, imagination.

[Aaron] So you think I should just stroll on up and let the coeds gawk?

[Spencer] No, I think you should go say good-bye to the brother you love.

[Aaron] I don’t want to.

[Spencer] I figured that out already.

[Spencer] Hey, I’ll be back at my dad’s Thursday night. Want to come and stay?

[Aaron] Can’t. Mom is staying over at my grandma’s that night because she’s going to have surgery. I don’t know what’s going on that day, but I’ll have to deal with Anthony and make dinner. Want to come for dinner?

[Spencer] I won’t be there till way after dinnertime.

[Aaron] Then I’ll come by on Friday and stay until Monday.

[Spencer] I’d love that.

When Aaron inventoried the back of the Durango, one small box remained. With a sigh, he turned the ignition to Accessories and rolled up the windows. Spencer had a point. It wasn’t like he’d ever see these people again, and while he didn’t think he imagined the looks of disgust on people’s faces as he passed, he did want to see Allen’s dorm. The same kind of dorm he’d have lived in the last three years if the world hadn’t gone dark for him. After grabbing the box, he locked up the car and pocketed the keys. He’d wait for the next person to come down and follow them up to the room.

Of course, because that was how his luck ran, it had to be Anthony.

“Way to wait until we’re finished,” he said as he spotted Aaron standing next to the car with the box in his arms. “Maybe you could not help us get his TV stand thing put together.”

“Shut up, Anthony,” Aaron mumbled.

“Well, seriously, how hard is it to get out of the car and help us carry stuff?”

“You really have no idea.”

Aaron followed Anthony up a few concrete steps and into the building where he’d seen his parents and brothers disappear again and again as they carried boxes and totes to Allen’s dorm room. As they passed through the front door, Aaron looked to his left and saw a well-appointed lounge with comfortable-looking, brightly colored chairs, couches, and tables. It appeared to be a place for the normal kids in college to hang out and be social. To the right was something like a cafeteria with no food. Brilliant blue-striped booths lined the walls, and there were bright red chairs, and tons of other little study spots for students looking for a quiet place to do homework away from their rowdy roommates.

They went up an open stairwell to the second floor and then down almost to the end of the hall, where a door stood open on their right. Aaron’s mother peeked around the frame and smiled.

“Aaron! Come and see Allen’s loft. It’s just like the bunk beds you and Allen had when you were little,” she said, and finally the excitement seemed to replace her sadness, even if just for a little while. Aaron loved the way it sounded and picked up his pace down the otherwise deserted hall. Other students may have been moving in right then—he’d seen lots of people moving in and out of the building from his automotive hideout—but the traffic seemed to have lagged.

Allen’s dorm was pretty much the same size as his bedroom at home, only now they had to fit two people in it. On the left, presumably Allen’s side since that was where the loft bed was, his father sat on the floor constructing the television stand. It would house the small TV from Allen’s room and his PS3, where he could listen to music, watch DVDs, or play games—a truly versatile little machine and every college student’s dream.

“Wow, how many roommates did I get?” a voice asked from the doorway, and the room fell quiet. It took just a few seconds of stunned silence, in which Aaron wanted to move to the back of the room and avoid the stranger’s gaze, for Allen to step forward.

“Just one, hey, I’m Allen. This is my family. They’re just helping me get something put together,” Allen said, putting a hand out. The other boy, a nondescript kid of medium height and average blond jock looks, put his hand out in return.

“Chad. Yeah, my mom and dad will be here in a few. I kind of got a little excited and may have broken the speed limit in a few places,” he said sheepishly. “We were gonna go to lunch after we got all my crap up here, but we can go now and give you a bit to finish up.”

“That’s very thoughtful,” Aaron’s mother said as she held out another generic piece of wood to their father as he screwed one in place. “Looks like you got assigned a pretty good guy, Allen.”

“Yeah, thanks, man,” Allen said. “Maybe after we get all this crap put away, we can go a few rounds on the PlayStation, or I think I saw air hockey downstairs.”

“Dude, I love PlayStation. The one we have at home is my brother’s, and he wouldn’t let me bring it. Got the new Call of Duty?” Chad asked excitedly.

“Yep.”

“Sweet, let me text my mom, and then I’ll be back in a bit. This year is gonna rock!” He turned and bolted from the door with all the enthusiasm of a kid in a candy store. They heard him hit the door for the stairwell at a run and stomp down the first few, but his footsteps melted away in the murmur of voices in the hall. The herd was on the move.

“I think someone forgot to take his Ritalin this morning,” Anthony observed wryly. Their mother tried to cover a smirk but failed rather miserably.

“Anthony, that isn’t nice. He’s just… excited.”

“Sure,” he said and climbed up onto Chad’s unmade plastic-covered bed to wait. Their father secured the last piece in place, declaring it done after an impressive fifteen minutes of assembly time. Aaron helped Allen hook up the television and gaming system. When they attached it to the Wi-Fi, they saw that the Internet worked and logged into Netflix just to test.

“What do you think, Mom? Animal House?” Allen asked with a fake innocence that made Aaron laugh.

“You behave yourself, young man. Not that I’m very worried about that. You’ve always been a good kid. Please, just keep yourself safe, honey. Promise me?” their mother asked, a tear resting in the corner of her eye, poised to fall at a moment’s notice and turn their happy occasion into a sad one.

“I will carry the Mace with me. I’ll be fine, Mom. You know Purdue is a safe place or you wouldn’t have let me come here.”

“Yeah, he’s not Aaron, Mom, can we go?” Anthony rolled off the bed, looking bored. Hurt laced itself into every corner of Aaron’s heart at his brother’s ridicule. “God, are there no bathrooms here?”

“We passed it on the way in, first door off the stairs,” his father said, and Anthony pushed past Aaron with some force, nearly taking his brother down in the effort to get out of the room. Aaron rubbed his arm, trying not to let the unexpected slam against his body take him to places he didn’t need to go surrounded by excitable freshmen.

The silence lengthened and grew in Anthony’s absence, and Allen busied himself by putting his games in the stand. Their mother grabbed some clothes out of the trunk and took it upon herself to hang them in the closet. Aaron and their father merely stood by and watched, helpless to bridge the growing tension. Allen ripped the tape off the bottom of the box he’d just emptied, flattening it and dropping it on the floor near Aaron’s feet.

“I’ll go,” he said suddenly, as Aaron noticed his mother slowly creeping toward the door, watching for her youngest son. Allen hopped over a box full of clothes and disappeared through the doorway, and then it was just Aaron, his parents, and that heavy, awkward silence he associated with their need to talk about one of their wayward children.

“I’ll go too,” he said suddenly and bolted from the room after his brothers. Whether they wanted to talk about Anthony, or Allen, or even him, he didn’t want to hear. Instead, he walked back up the hallway toward the main stairway and heard voices, yelling actually, behind a propped door ahead.

“Why do you have to stay here? Can’t you go to school in DeKalb? That’s like ten minutes away!” Anthony yelled, unseen, at Allen behind the door.

“Anthony, Purdue has the best engineering program in the country. Don’t you want me to get a good education? I’m only four hours away,” Allen retorted.

“You’re the only one in that house that gives a fuck about me!”

“That’s not true. Mom and Dad love you. Aaron loves you.” Allen stopped midsentence when Anthony started to laugh. It was a harsh and bitter sound, like clock hands scraping the passage of their youth. Aaron’s hand rested on the door, ready to push it open when Anthony spoke again.

“Mom and Dad aren’t interested in me or you. We stopped being visible when Aaron got hurt. And Aaron, I don’t think he sees anything except what’s in his head. I understand why you want to get away. I want to get away too, but I can’t. I’m trapped there.” The pain in his voice scored a jagged hole in Aaron’s soul. He couldn’t stand being the cause of it. The metal door, cold under his fingers, never seemed to warm as he stood waiting for the next blow to fall.

“And don’t drink anymore. We talked about this.” Allen’s stern voice was muffled, and Aaron peeked around the door to see him holding Anthony in his arms. Though Anthony stood nearly a head taller than Allen, he still rested his head on Allen’s shoulder. Allen kept a hand on the back of Anthony’s neck.

“I won’t.”

Allen must have been giving him that big brother look, the one Aaron spent years trying to perfect before he lost his status as big brother, because Anthony squeaked out a quieter, “I promise.”

“And try to do better in school; you can’t get out if no college will take you. We can Skype, we can FaceTime, whenever you want after school. Just don’t… don’t give up, okay?”

“Don’t leave.” Anthony’s voice was but a whisper then, a frightened child in the dark. His fourteen-year-old ego wouldn’t allow the tears to fall, but his voice teemed with them.

“I have to.” The room fell silent, and Aaron finally pushed open the door to reveal his younger brothers, broken by the fate that had befallen their family with his survival. They stood near the sinks, still in the same position, only Anthony had turned to bury his face in Allen’s shoulder, probably to hide his welling tears. Allen looked up when the door opened.

“Mom and Dad want us back?” he asked and started to pull away from Anthony, who clung to him, drowning in his own sea of sadness.

“No, I think they wanted to talk with me out of the room, so I wanted to come and check on Anthony.”

“’M fine,” Anthony said with a sniffle and pulled the front of his T-shirt up to rub his face. To give himself something to do, it seemed, he went over to the sink and splashed water on his face.

“I’m going to miss Allen too,” Aaron said and raised a hand to put on Anthony’s shoulder, but his youngest brother backed away.

“Yeah, right.”

“I will. Just like I miss Spencer right now. It seems like everyone is leaving, and things are changing, but they’re not leaving forever.” Aaron wasn’t able to meet Anthony’s eyes. He was placating his little brother, and they all knew it.

“That’s nice. Very pretty. I’ll be by the car.” He turned toward the door but stopped before he reached it. Anthony turned and launched himself at Allen, holding tight for several long minutes before he strode out the door and didn’t look back.

“You have to understand,” Allen said quietly, watching the door through which their brother had just disappeared. “After that night, Anthony had no idea what had happened to our family. One day everything was fine, and the next, it was total chaos. And then he got put down in the basement with no real explanation. He was just a little kid. It took me a long time to get him to understand he hadn’t done anything wrong. All of a sudden, Mom and Dad stopped going to his games, stopped volunteering at school, stopped doing anything that had to do with either of us, and focused solely on you. As I got older, I went to his games and helped him with his homework. It was just us for a long time, and now I’m leaving him.”

“You’re getting on with your life, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Don’t feel guilty. He won’t be alone. I’ll take care of him,” Aaron promised without any earthly idea how he would keep that promise, only that he couldn’t stand the look of sadness on Allen’s face, the one who had been by his side in everything, even the fight to be able to choose his own therapist. And now he was leaving too.

“I know you will. Take care of Mom too. She’s been so tired lately, trying to keep everything together.”

“I will, Allen.”

“I’ll miss you, man,” Allen gave up all pretense of being a big, strong adult and threw his arms around Aaron, who stiffened for just a second before returning the hug.

“I’ll miss you too.”

The moment went on a little too long, and Aaron pulled away, wiping his face on his long sleeve. A suffocating weight pressed on his chest as he turned to leave the little too-hot bathroom at the edge of Allen’s life.

“Go check on Anthony. I’ll send Mom and Dad down,” Allen called after him. A tiny blond girl, who looked about twelve but had to be more like seventeen or eighteen, passed him as he went down the stairs. Her hair was up in a long ponytail which just touched the back of her Purdue tank top.

“Hi,” she said quietly as he passed.

“Hi,” he replied, surprised that such a pretty girl would talk to the scarred freak at all. Maybe Spencer had a point about him imagining people’s reactions. When Aaron reached the ground floor, he happened to glance into the brightly colored lounge to see Anthony hanging out on one of the chairs as he stared out of the window. Aaron caught himself just as he reached for the front door and changed course toward the lounge. Anthony didn’t even look up. He just kept watching all the pretty coeds and prettier college boys passing in front of the building on their way to their lives.

“Hey,” Aaron said, dropping down onto the chair next to Anthony.

“Too hot to stand out by the car,” he said and scooted lower in the chair to rest his knees on the windowsill in front of him.

“I’m good with this,” Aaron replied as he pulled out his phone and shot a text to their mother letting her know they’d said good-bye to Allen and were waiting in the lounge. No one else came into their sanctuary to disturb them, so they sat quietly, not talking, just watching the world go by.

It took their parents about ten minutes more to say good-bye to Allen and get his mother out of the room. Aaron could see her in his head as she tried to help Allen arrange it just right, but Allen was an adult. It was his turn to decide where his underwear would go. Their parents picked them up in the lounge, and after a brief trip to the vending machines for pop and chips, they climbed back in the Durango. No one spoke of the empty space between Aaron and Anthony in the backseat, the one that felt like a chasm neither would be able to cross.

About an hour outside of Lafayette when things started to settle in on the ride, Aaron popped open his Sprite. He checked his phone and saw that Spencer hadn’t sent another text, but that he had e-mail.

MissingTwin wants to be your friend.

It took Aaron several minutes to remember why the name sounded familiar. He’d answered a comment on MissingTwin’s PTSD therapy post. Well, that was why Dr. Thomas wanted him to go on these boards, right, to make friends? He clicked the link in the e-mail which took him to the PTSD therapy group site. There, he logged in, which seemed like an awful lot of work just to accept a friend request, but after a few minutes he clicked the button to accept. It looked like Aaron had a new friend.

And thank God, because he needed one.

He needed one so fucking desperately.