I drop down onto the edge of the bed in my childhood room with a huff.
This has been such a shitty week that I don’t know why I’m honestly surprised it got shittier. I had to fire three employees. Cancel two planned merit bonuses because someone in accounting made a mistake. My work computer crapped out while my gaming one caught a virus. Got my car dinged in the parking garage when I went to dinner with my friends after my baby brother cancelled on dinner with me again . As if I wasn’t already in a foul mood when I got there, Matty couldn’t seem to stop making jokes about London finding my replacement at her father’s banquet today. He spent what felt like hours playfully joking that I better learn more about sports if I ever wanna be more than an in town hook up. And as if I needed one more extra fuck you, London hasn’t been in my bed or my arms in exactly two weeks. Fourteen long fucking days. Dating her phone and email account is definitely taking a toll. Our calls have been short when they get answered. Her photos from work always contain her, surrounded mainly by men. I’m starting to doubt the conclusions I had come to about us feeling the same way about one another. I’m starting to think maybe Matty isn’t completely wrong. What if I am just the at home guy she sleeps with? I’d ask, but I’m not sure I can handle the answer.
There’s a knock on the open door, and I turn to see Blake leaned against the frame with a sympathetic smile.
Oh, and let’s not forget that instead of making my brother’s birthday a joyful event, I exploded at him over a harmless joke like a child in need of a nice, long nap.
“You okay?” Blake cautiously questions.
“Been better.” I shrug. “Sorry about downstairs. I-”
“What’s going on?” The concerned tone is so foreign it silences me. “For once why don’t you talk to me ? Let me see if maybe I can help?”
A deep exhale escapes.
“Look Oliver, I may not be as smart as you or fancy as you, but it doesn’t mean I’m useless . That I can’t be trusted . That my two cents is automatically less in value.”
My face morphs into one of bafflement. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“That’s why you don’t talk to me, righ’?” His voice noticeably shakes. “’Cause you don’t think I could ever be useful to someone who is so much better than me.”
I shake my head. “I’m not better than you.”
“You don’t think so? The fancy car you drive? The stuck up drinks you drink? The six-figure job you have-”
“I’m just different not better !” I bark. “And you know what, Blake? It’s you…all of you who are better than me !”
Consternation cloaks his face.
“You all fit into this family! You all hang out and make time for one another and getting you to have anything to do with me is a chore . You all like the same shit. You’re all proud of who the hell you are, not afraid of what the world thinks about you. And you all have women who…,” the last words suck all the air out the room, “who aren’t afraid to admit they love you.”
Turning away from him, I give my exhausted face a good scrub.
Unbelievable. This day really is getting worse . If everything keeps up at this rate I can pretty much guarantee I’m gonna be single again by the end of it. Am I already single? It’s not like she ever refers to me as her boyfriend in particular. It’s always something like mate or partner or synced spirit . Is good ol’ fashion boyfriend really that hard?
Blake flops down on the bed beside me. “You are different , Oliver. You always have been. But we’ve never hated you for it. We’ve never once not considered you a part of this family. You’re our brother. You matter. You’re like having a silent business partner. You give and you guide for none of the credit. For none of the glory. You bend where the rest of us break. You’re understanding where the rest of us are stubborn. You always focus so selflessly on what’s going on with everyone else that we often forget you need to be checked on too.”
I shift my weight yet remain silent.
“Now why’s your girlfriend afraid to say I love you.”
“Not even sure she’s my girlfriend.”
“How long you been sleepin’ with her?”
My glower deepens. “Is sex really how you measure how long you’ve been in a relationship?”
Blake shoots me a smirk. “Nah. Just get a kick out of watching your forehead wrinkle. When we were kids I would say stupid shit to watch your eyes cross.”
The memory causes me to shake my head.
“Seriously, how long you been seein’ her?”
“Few months.”
“Sounds like she’s you’re girlfriend to me. Why didn’t you bring her over today?”
“She….” I ponder over the appropriate way to word the answer. “Had to work. Again. She always has to work….”
“Couldn’t request off?”
“Her job isn’t exactly easy when it comes to negotiating that kind of shit.”
“Why? What is she? Like a doctor or lawyer or CEO?”
“She’s a sports blogger.”
Blake’s jaw hits the floor.
“ Extreme sports to be more exact, but she dabbles in the ‘traditional’ ones too. Like today . She had to do a guest speech at a banquet here in town hosted by her father proceeded with attending the cocktail hour afterwards.”
My brother’s jaw bobs around for a few minutes more as if still blanking on what to say. Finally, he asks, “What’s um….What’s her name?”
“London Hall.”
Excitement crashes into more shock. “As in Little L ? As in Lamar “Big L” Hall’s daughter ?”
I reluctantly nod, fidgeting with the sunstone bracelet around my wrist. “Figured you’d heard of her.”
“Heard of her?!” He can barely contain his shouts. “I used to have such a huge fucking crush on her!”
A rumble threatens to escape my throat.
“She’s a sports celebrity and her father’s a goddamn basketball legend!” Disbelief continues to run rampant. “Out of all the women for you to fall for in the entire world you manage to pick her ?”
“Didn’t exactly pick her. She…kinda picked me.”
The smile on his face is one of genuine happiness. “Then why do you doubt she loves you? I mean, she liked you enough to pick you , a man who knows more about blends of coffee than he does any sports topic. Liked you enough to stick around for months instead of just screw you for a couple of weeks. What makes you think that hasn’t turned into love?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just want the reassurance. She spends days and weeks traipsing around the globe with much more compatible men, and I guess I just wanna hear her say the words so I know for sure that she does. For sure that we’re in something more committed than just screwing when it’s convenient. I guess I wanna hear the words so I know we’re building towards some sort of future.”
“Have you talked to her about this shit?”
His obvious response doesn’t make it past the logical part of my brain.
I know that’s what we need. I know that we should’ve done it long before now. It’s the fear of losing the piece of London I have in pursuit of needing a few normal elements in our relationship.
“Trust me. If I’ve learned anything since having a girlfriend-”
“You mean since having your first girlfriend. Like an adult .”
Blake glares at the joke and it’s my turn to laugh.
“As I was saying .…Talk to her. Why don’t you try givin’ her a call? Maybe makin’ time to meet up with her today and do it face to face?”
“It can wait,” I attempt to brush off. “It’s your birthday. I need-”
“To put yourself first sometimes.” Blake gives me a hard pat on the shoulder. “Call her. If you need to go then go. With my blessin’.”
His kind action kicks the corner of my lip up. “You sure?”
“Absolutely.” He stands and begins to exit. All of sudden he spins around and states, “But if you manage to work an autographed anything for me into the conversation, you will take the top rank for favorite brother.”
“What am I now, last?”
“No. Eddie’s last. Did you see that coffee mug he got me? That shit is first on my list to be traded when Mama goes garage sale huntin’.”
I laugh and shake my head once more. “Get out.”
“I’m goin’…I’m goin’….” He says, shoving his hands in his pockets as he prepares to stroll away.
“Hey Blake.”
My younger brother glances at me over his shoulder.
“Thanks for the talk. I may not be your favorite brother, but you were definitely the best one to talk to about this. You’ve always been much better with women than I have.”
He shrugs. “We all have our strengths. Just learn to embrace yours .”
Once I’m completely alone, I stand, shut the door, and take a few deep breaths. The moment I feel calm enough, I take out my cell phone and hit London’s speed dial number.
Surprisingly enough, it only rings once before her sweet voice says, “Hey Hot Stuff!”
“Hey Sunshine,” I happily sigh. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed your voice.”
“My voice or my screams?”
“Both.”
Her snicker sparks a full-fledged smile.
After a long beat, I clear my throat and confess, “I wasn’t expecting you to answer. I was jus’ gonna leave a voicemail.”
“Well you got me. And as you know the real thing is always better.”
The sexual implication tempts me to turn the pending discussion the wrong way.
“Were you calling just to talk? I mean, I’ve got a few minutes. I had to slip away from the overbearing amount of testosterone circling the loaded sweet potato rounds. It was threatening to break me out in hives.”
I battle the instinct to smile at the joke and the one to growl at the amount of men most likely surrounding her. “I was calling because…I needed to talk. We need to talk.”
“About?”
“Us.”
“What about us?”
Concern for this being better discussed face to face or at the very least when she has more time, I suggest, “Why don’t you come by when everything is finished and we’ll talk about it?”
“No,” she immediately refuses. “Talk now.”
“London-”
“It was important enough to warrant a call instead of text, so be upfront with me. What about us?”
Swallowing the swelling knot, I ask, “Is there actually an us ?”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
My head hits the back of the closed door. “I’m just.…I need to know are we exclusive when you’re in and out of town? Is it okay to call us an official couple? Are you in love with me? Can you say you’re in love with me? Can I say I love you without having to worry that you’re going to start rambling some bullshit about energy flows and synced star cycles instead of jus’ sayin’ it back?”
The long stretch of silence threatens to collapse me to the ground. “Let me ask you something, Oliver. Do you want those things checked off your romantic catalog or do you need them because that’s how everyone else around you makes you feel?”
My confession is guilt ridden. “Both.”
I brace myself for a harsh lashing.
“Alright, Hot Stuff. You wanna call me your girlfriend, an out of date term people use as a way to ward off others? As a way to trap them into doing and behaving in predictable natures and roles society dubbed upon us without consent? You wanna hear how much I love you since the sentiments I bring you back from every trip I take aren’t enough? You wanna see that the only man I give a shit about is the one challenging my actions because he needs the words? Well. You know my stance about going after something you want…. Come and get me.”