I talked to her was a few hours before she went out that night. It was a normal conversation. All she could talk about was some ridiculous fucking important girl project to grow her hair out long. I barely listened to her. Carrie,” he looks into my face, his curly lashes stuck together in clumps by tears, “I hardly listened at all. I was so, so tired of listening to her.” He sits up a little, and I squeeze his hand. I don’t want him to go, but I can already feel him leaving.
“In the hospital, her hair was shaved multiple times for surgeries and for shunts todrain fluid, and when my mom took care of her, she kept it short, too, almost buzzed.”
“Oh, Brian.”
Ignoring my tears, he laughs again. “Right before I graduated from law school, I found out Mom was being investigated for neglect. It wasn’t so serious as to be criminal, but Stacy was getting a lot of bed sores and had a couple of hospital stays due to food poisoning because Mom wasn’t practicing proper technique with her feeding tube—stuff like that.” His eyes have found someplace to look into over my shoulder, red-rimmed, watery, the green irises hazy with whatever memory he was reaching for.
“I made a decision to help Stacy, and I had just finished an internship with the federal contracts department, which was one of the places to offer me a job. Three days after I graduated, Mom moved to Florida, and I moved Stacy in.”
“And let her grow out her hair.”
“Yeah.”
I move out of my chair and awkwardly curl into his lap, relaxing when he lets me hold his head against my neck. I comb my fingertips against his scalp, forehead to nape, the way my mom did for me when I was little and upset. The motion soothed me. I want it to soothe him.
His breath is warm and soft along my collarbones, but his hands stay on the arms of the chair.
“I’m not a good man, Carrie. That’s what I am trying to say.” His voice is gentle, but very flat. He carefully moves me so he can stand up. He looks at the floor but picks up one of my hands, stroking the back of it, circling the knuckles with his finger.
“I’ve hurt you and so many other people. I’m never sure that I’m not hurting Stacy. Stacy’s new social worker is really concerned and I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve really gotten on their radar in a meaningful way. I’ve got to focus, on what’s right for Stacy and—”
“What’s right for you?”
“I don’t even know what ‘me’ is. Lately, you know about as much as anyone. Another really good reason I have to go.” He curls his hand around my shoulder but drops it instantly. “It’s really not that it’s a secret, I’m not ashamed, but I’ve learned it isn’t anything I can share, either. No one can count on me but Stacy, and I’m not evensure she can, either.”
I am never going to forget how he looks right now, as if he’s actually physically trying to hide the longing in his face.
He pinches the bridge of his nose again. “I have nothing to offer, and believe me when I say I am really good at figuring out exactly how much I can offer anyone.”
“That’s where I think you’re wrong.”
“Carrie—”
“No, hear me out. You dole out these stolen little pieces for yourself. You’ve been doing it for so long that you not only have no idea what you need, you have no idea what anyone else might need, either. No one is all or nothing. Grown-ups don’t need someone to be all or nothing.”
“Stacy’s not a grown-up. She never will be. She’ll always be my little sister, just my little sister.”
“Right. I know. What I mean is you’re the grown-up. Who knows other grownups who know how to help and share. Who, in fact, when they grow to like and respect you, want to help you and share because it makes them feel good. Because no one should have to give everything they are to just one other person at the expense of their own life.”
“That is in no way my
“In the hospital, her hair was shaved multiple times for surgeries and for shunts todrain fluid, and when my mom took care of her, she kept it short, too, almost buzzed.”
“Oh, Brian.”
Ignoring my tears, he laughs again. “Right before I graduated from law school, I found out Mom was being investigated for neglect. It wasn’t so serious as to be criminal, but Stacy was getting a lot of bed sores and had a couple of hospital stays due to food poisoning because Mom wasn’t practicing proper technique with her feeding tube—stuff like that.” His eyes have found someplace to look into over my shoulder, red-rimmed, watery, the green irises hazy with whatever memory he was reaching for.
“I made a decision to help Stacy, and I had just finished an internship with the federal contracts department, which was one of the places to offer me a job. Three days after I graduated, Mom moved to Florida, and I moved Stacy in.”
“And let her grow out her hair.”
“Yeah.”
I move out of my chair and awkwardly curl into his lap, relaxing when he lets me hold his head against my neck. I comb my fingertips against his scalp, forehead to nape, the way my mom did for me when I was little and upset. The motion soothed me. I want it to soothe him.
His breath is warm and soft along my collarbones, but his hands stay on the arms of the chair.
“I’m not a good man, Carrie. That’s what I am trying to say.” His voice is gentle, but very flat. He carefully moves me so he can stand up. He looks at the floor but picks up one of my hands, stroking the back of it, circling the knuckles with his finger.
“I’ve hurt you and so many other people. I’m never sure that I’m not hurting Stacy. Stacy’s new social worker is really concerned and I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve really gotten on their radar in a meaningful way. I’ve got to focus, on what’s right for Stacy and—”
“What’s right for you?”
“I don’t even know what ‘me’ is. Lately, you know about as much as anyone. Another really good reason I have to go.” He curls his hand around my shoulder but drops it instantly. “It’s really not that it’s a secret, I’m not ashamed, but I’ve learned it isn’t anything I can share, either. No one can count on me but Stacy, and I’m not evensure she can, either.”
I am never going to forget how he looks right now, as if he’s actually physically trying to hide the longing in his face.
He pinches the bridge of his nose again. “I have nothing to offer, and believe me when I say I am really good at figuring out exactly how much I can offer anyone.”
“That’s where I think you’re wrong.”
“Carrie—”
“No, hear me out. You dole out these stolen little pieces for yourself. You’ve been doing it for so long that you not only have no idea what you need, you have no idea what anyone else might need, either. No one is all or nothing. Grown-ups don’t need someone to be all or nothing.”
“Stacy’s not a grown-up. She never will be. She’ll always be my little sister, just my little sister.”
“Right. I know. What I mean is you’re the grown-up. Who knows other grownups who know how to help and share. Who, in fact, when they grow to like and respect you, want to help you and share because it makes them feel good. Because no one should have to give everything they are to just one other person at the expense of their own life.”
“That is in no way my
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