painfully sad for my brother, who is obviously shouldering a whole lot more than a pending divorce. “Are you going to try and find her?” I ask. “This woman? If you love her, maybe there’s still a chance.”
“I don’t know.” Nate rubs his hands against his thighs and stands up. He wanders over to the window to peer out at the ocean for a few minutes, brow furrowed. “Even if I bumped into her today, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t want to talk to me. Same as Emilia and Liam, she put a lot of trust in me, and I betrayed it. I didn’t mean to, and I sure as fuck didn’t want to, but there you have it. No changin’ that fact now.”
We are both quiet for a little while, there being not much else to say on the subject, but then Nate turns back around to face me with an inscrutable expression.
“How come you never mentioned Phel before this?” he asks.
The question stumps me for a few moments. There’s no good answer to that. “I don’t… I guess it just never occurred to me. He’s pretty low-key, for one thing, and in a way… I didn’t feel right burdening you with my problems. It’s like Phel and I are each other’s therapists sometimes, and it felt best to keep it private. In case I accidentally wound up talking about his issues as well as my own.” I shrug at the ineffectiveness of this response, but Nate nods in a way that seems to indicate he gets it. That’s one thing about Nate; it doesn’t take a whole lot of explaining to get him on the same page.
“That’s okay, dude,” he says. “In all fairness, I kept a hell of a lot from you for a whole year.” I snort, because Nate is the king of the motherfucking understatement, but in actual fact I wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially when I tend toward overstating things a little myself. There are so many questions I have about that time, where Nate met this woman, how he knew she was different from Emilia, what about her could have changed his life so fundamentally, but there will be time for all that later on.
“Just… no more secrets, okay?” I plead. Nate looks down at his hands, which maybe isn’t the response I want, but we’ve had enough awkwardness today to last us a lifetime. I can stand to let him off the hook just this once. “I can’t be an awesome brother to you if I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Fair enough.” I think that’s the end of it, until he blurts out, “So does he still love the guy?” Nate’s also the king of the non sequitur, apparently. Sometimes his train of thought is more like one of those insane Shinkansen from Japan than your average locomotive.
“Who?”
Still not looking at me, though. Fuck, at the rate we’re going, I’m going to need to brush up on my psych textbooks just to decipher my own brother. “Phel,” he clarifies and, wow, that’s pretty random, even for Nate. “Does he still love the guy who broke his heart?”
Since I can’t think of a good way to hide my surprise, I don’t. That Nate knows how wrecked Phel is feeling after one meeting might say something, but that doesn’t mean I’m at liberty to start divulging secrets behind Phelan’s back. I wouldn’t do that to Nate if the shoe were on the other foot. “Why do you care about that?”
Nate shrugs and finally meets my eyes with a steadiness I don’t expect. “I don’t know, Hugh. I guess I just want to know if there’s still hope for someone like me.”
Because there’s no better way to respond to someone who is hurting and lost and kind of alone except for the dubious comfort of your presence, sometimes the only thing you can offer is a hug. So I rise from the bed and go to put my arms around Nate, my broken, well-meaning brother who has nevertheless managed to make significant disasters of a bunch of people’s lives. Try putting that on a Hallmark card. Instead Nate accepts the embrace for what it is, sort of awkwardly since we haven’t done this in a while, and doesn’t try so hard
“I don’t know.” Nate rubs his hands against his thighs and stands up. He wanders over to the window to peer out at the ocean for a few minutes, brow furrowed. “Even if I bumped into her today, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t want to talk to me. Same as Emilia and Liam, she put a lot of trust in me, and I betrayed it. I didn’t mean to, and I sure as fuck didn’t want to, but there you have it. No changin’ that fact now.”
We are both quiet for a little while, there being not much else to say on the subject, but then Nate turns back around to face me with an inscrutable expression.
“How come you never mentioned Phel before this?” he asks.
The question stumps me for a few moments. There’s no good answer to that. “I don’t… I guess it just never occurred to me. He’s pretty low-key, for one thing, and in a way… I didn’t feel right burdening you with my problems. It’s like Phel and I are each other’s therapists sometimes, and it felt best to keep it private. In case I accidentally wound up talking about his issues as well as my own.” I shrug at the ineffectiveness of this response, but Nate nods in a way that seems to indicate he gets it. That’s one thing about Nate; it doesn’t take a whole lot of explaining to get him on the same page.
“That’s okay, dude,” he says. “In all fairness, I kept a hell of a lot from you for a whole year.” I snort, because Nate is the king of the motherfucking understatement, but in actual fact I wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially when I tend toward overstating things a little myself. There are so many questions I have about that time, where Nate met this woman, how he knew she was different from Emilia, what about her could have changed his life so fundamentally, but there will be time for all that later on.
“Just… no more secrets, okay?” I plead. Nate looks down at his hands, which maybe isn’t the response I want, but we’ve had enough awkwardness today to last us a lifetime. I can stand to let him off the hook just this once. “I can’t be an awesome brother to you if I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Fair enough.” I think that’s the end of it, until he blurts out, “So does he still love the guy?” Nate’s also the king of the non sequitur, apparently. Sometimes his train of thought is more like one of those insane Shinkansen from Japan than your average locomotive.
“Who?”
Still not looking at me, though. Fuck, at the rate we’re going, I’m going to need to brush up on my psych textbooks just to decipher my own brother. “Phel,” he clarifies and, wow, that’s pretty random, even for Nate. “Does he still love the guy who broke his heart?”
Since I can’t think of a good way to hide my surprise, I don’t. That Nate knows how wrecked Phel is feeling after one meeting might say something, but that doesn’t mean I’m at liberty to start divulging secrets behind Phelan’s back. I wouldn’t do that to Nate if the shoe were on the other foot. “Why do you care about that?”
Nate shrugs and finally meets my eyes with a steadiness I don’t expect. “I don’t know, Hugh. I guess I just want to know if there’s still hope for someone like me.”
Because there’s no better way to respond to someone who is hurting and lost and kind of alone except for the dubious comfort of your presence, sometimes the only thing you can offer is a hug. So I rise from the bed and go to put my arms around Nate, my broken, well-meaning brother who has nevertheless managed to make significant disasters of a bunch of people’s lives. Try putting that on a Hallmark card. Instead Nate accepts the embrace for what it is, sort of awkwardly since we haven’t done this in a while, and doesn’t try so hard
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