Since the night he lost his leg, that’d been gone. He sat across the table from me with slumped shoulders, pushing his food around his plate, barely eating it. Firefighters were notorious for how quickly the finished their meals. My father used to finish his entire dinner before all of us even sat down to the table. Once Corey became a part of the WFD, it was the same with him. When it came to the unpredictability of calls, you had to learn to eat while you could.
But the brother sitting across the dinner table from me was a complete one-eighty from the Corey I knew. He sat with his head down, shoulders slumped, eating tentatively.
I had to force myself to stop staring at him and focus on my plate.
“Please tell me you made extra,” I said about halfway through our meal.
My mother grinned across the table and tilted her head to the side. “You know I did. Your to-go Tupperware is in the refrigerator.”
“Yes.” I fist pumped and wiggled my butt in the chair as I dug in for another forkful. “I brought something for you,” I said to Corey.
He’d been quiet for most of our meal, but he peered up at me with his dark eyebrows raised. My stomach twisted as I looked into his copper eyes. I deeply missed the light and laughter that used to reside there. Corey always showed whatever emotion he was feeling in his eyes. We both did. The look in his eyes read lost.
“I went over to headquarters to pick up those papers you called me about.”
“Thanks, J.” He dropped his head back down.
I waited a beat. “I saw Don while I was there.”
Corey’s head popped up. A range of emotions streamed across his face.
I decided to answer his unasked question. “He asked about you. I told him you were doing okay.”
The only response Corey gave was a snort.
“Jocelyn, can you pass me the iced tea?” my mother asked.
I didn’t take my eyes off Corey as I passed my mother the peach iced tea she’d made.
“Tell us about your job,” she said before I could press my brother about Don.
“It’s fine,” I answered Mama. “He looked like he missed you. I bet they all miss you over there. It’s been months, and you still haven’t spoken to any of them,” I said to Corey.
Corey slammed his fork against the porcelain plate in front of him.
I jumped in my chair.
He planted his elbows on the table, wringing his hands in front of his face.
“Leave it alone, Jocelyn,” my mother said.
“You could at least give Don a call. He said he’s left you voicemails. They’re all worried about you, I bet.”
“How the hell would you know what they’re worried about?” Corey roared.
I rolled my eyes, unperturbed by his anger. “I just said, I saw Don. He looked…” I thought back to the look on Don’s face as he’d asked about my brother. “Desperate. He’s your best friend, and in six months, you haven’t spoken to him.”
“Damn, don’t you ever know when to shut up?” He stood, snatched his plate off the table, and headed for the kitchen.
“Excuse you—”
My mother wrapped her hand around my forearm. “Leave it alone,” she insisted, squeezing.
I slumped back in my seat. My brother didn’t run from fights or arguments. He usually gave as good as he got.
“You’re pushing him too hard,” she added.
I looked at my mother with raised eyebrows. “How? It’s been six months, Ma. He’s still locked away here, hiding from everyone and everything important to him.”
