was always torn, you know? He thought he was no one, but he didn’t wanna be.” Kell rubbed his head again. “Why’s my little brother so much more interesting than I am?”
Trav wished for the zillionth time that he was a hugger. “You remember that Joe Walsh song?” he asked, smiling a little. “Ordinary Average Guy?”
Kell laughed. “Yeah. Boring life. Picking up dog doo, hoping it’s hard. I remember. Is that my fate, Trav? Wife, kids, dog shit?”
“Happiness,” Trav said softly, thinking about his parents and his brother and meaning it. “It’s going to be easier for you, Kell. Mackey’ll keep you fed, keep you in a job, and you will help him make music history. But when it’s time to find that wife to follow you around and have babies, it’s gonna be easy.” He sighed and shut his eyes. “That fight that Mackey and I had? There’s gonna be none of that shit for you. No breaking your fist on walls, no sixty-eleven trips to rehab. Just falling in love and having babies and doing your job with all your heart. It’s gonna be a good life.”
Kell nodded with big eyes, like he was clinging to Trav’s words with all the strength in his big, rough hands. “Yeah?”
Trav nodded and smiled. “Yeah, man. You’re gonna have a good life.”
“Not spectacular,” Kell said, and then looked Trav in the eyes with startling sobriety. “Is it worth it?” he asked. “The trade-off? The spectacular for the ordinary? Is it worth it?”
Trav sighed and closed his eyes. “Ask me when we bury your friend, Kellogg. I might know then.”
The tabletop they were sitting at was overvarnished, tacky with too much spilled booze, riddled with stickers and stamps, which was apparently this place’s idea of kitsch. Kell worried one of the stamps with his thumbnail and looked around the little dive with the surprisingly tasty barbecue.
“This is a good place,” he said after a minute. “Someday I want to come back to this place and remember the shit you said to me. It’s important shit.”
Trav ran his finger idly around the rim of his empty beer mug. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, laughing a little. “I promised your brother I’d be here, whether or not we were a thing. You can ask me any day, and I’ll tell you this important shit.”
Kell nodded and drained the last two inches of his glass. The bartender came over and took Trav’s card, and they met eyes, both of them aware that the sobering time had come.
“What I’m going through with Grant, it’s gonna hurt,” he said. “The guy was our brother for most of our lives.”
Trav grimaced. “Understood.”
“But what you and Mackey are gonna go through?” Kellogg sighed and stood up. “I get why my brother became an addict,” he said after a minute. “I mean I do now . But I’m telling you, there’s not enough beer in the world, Trav. And I don’t got no other remedies, yanno?”
Trav took his card back and signed for the tip, nodding at the bartender with finality. He and Kell were still in their shirtsleeves, and it was still pissing rain, and Blake hadn’t texted them yet, which meant Mackey and Briony were still out in it.
“You don’t have to,” Trav said after a minute. “If me and Mackey can’t work it out on our own, it wasn’t meant to be.”
“Now that’s just bullshit,” Kell muttered. “There’s meant to be and not meant to be and there’s just being put under the pressure cooker until you explode.”
Trav smiled at him. “Kell?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let anyone tell you you’re stupid. Ever. And if they insist on it, let them talk to me and I’ll take them out.”
Kell’s answering smile was a little sad, but sound. They turned and walked out of the bar more than friends—brothers.
Trav thought about Heywood and wondered bitterly if he’d ever really known what that meant. His brother was working in the ER right now while his wife minded the kids. He knew this because Heywood texted
Trav wished for the zillionth time that he was a hugger. “You remember that Joe Walsh song?” he asked, smiling a little. “Ordinary Average Guy?”
Kell laughed. “Yeah. Boring life. Picking up dog doo, hoping it’s hard. I remember. Is that my fate, Trav? Wife, kids, dog shit?”
“Happiness,” Trav said softly, thinking about his parents and his brother and meaning it. “It’s going to be easier for you, Kell. Mackey’ll keep you fed, keep you in a job, and you will help him make music history. But when it’s time to find that wife to follow you around and have babies, it’s gonna be easy.” He sighed and shut his eyes. “That fight that Mackey and I had? There’s gonna be none of that shit for you. No breaking your fist on walls, no sixty-eleven trips to rehab. Just falling in love and having babies and doing your job with all your heart. It’s gonna be a good life.”
Kell nodded with big eyes, like he was clinging to Trav’s words with all the strength in his big, rough hands. “Yeah?”
Trav nodded and smiled. “Yeah, man. You’re gonna have a good life.”
“Not spectacular,” Kell said, and then looked Trav in the eyes with startling sobriety. “Is it worth it?” he asked. “The trade-off? The spectacular for the ordinary? Is it worth it?”
Trav sighed and closed his eyes. “Ask me when we bury your friend, Kellogg. I might know then.”
The tabletop they were sitting at was overvarnished, tacky with too much spilled booze, riddled with stickers and stamps, which was apparently this place’s idea of kitsch. Kell worried one of the stamps with his thumbnail and looked around the little dive with the surprisingly tasty barbecue.
“This is a good place,” he said after a minute. “Someday I want to come back to this place and remember the shit you said to me. It’s important shit.”
Trav ran his finger idly around the rim of his empty beer mug. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, laughing a little. “I promised your brother I’d be here, whether or not we were a thing. You can ask me any day, and I’ll tell you this important shit.”
Kell nodded and drained the last two inches of his glass. The bartender came over and took Trav’s card, and they met eyes, both of them aware that the sobering time had come.
“What I’m going through with Grant, it’s gonna hurt,” he said. “The guy was our brother for most of our lives.”
Trav grimaced. “Understood.”
“But what you and Mackey are gonna go through?” Kellogg sighed and stood up. “I get why my brother became an addict,” he said after a minute. “I mean I do now . But I’m telling you, there’s not enough beer in the world, Trav. And I don’t got no other remedies, yanno?”
Trav took his card back and signed for the tip, nodding at the bartender with finality. He and Kell were still in their shirtsleeves, and it was still pissing rain, and Blake hadn’t texted them yet, which meant Mackey and Briony were still out in it.
“You don’t have to,” Trav said after a minute. “If me and Mackey can’t work it out on our own, it wasn’t meant to be.”
“Now that’s just bullshit,” Kell muttered. “There’s meant to be and not meant to be and there’s just being put under the pressure cooker until you explode.”
Trav smiled at him. “Kell?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t let anyone tell you you’re stupid. Ever. And if they insist on it, let them talk to me and I’ll take them out.”
Kell’s answering smile was a little sad, but sound. They turned and walked out of the bar more than friends—brothers.
Trav thought about Heywood and wondered bitterly if he’d ever really known what that meant. His brother was working in the ER right now while his wife minded the kids. He knew this because Heywood texted
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