Wesley, on the other hand…
His age was not something I found enjoyable.
“What does David think about moving to California?” I asked, thinking about his lifelong best friend. They’d been thick as thieves since grade school, attached at the hip since high school, and inseparable into college. They’d even rented an off-campus apartment together at the start of their freshman year.
“David isn’t moving to California.” Wes slammed the fridge closed and jerked upright, turning away from me again.
“What do you mean?”
“David isn’t…he doesn’t want…” Wesley’s voice cracked. “He is staying in Brixton.”
“That’s not like the two of you.”
“With as little respect as this deserves, Henny, you don’t know shit about the two of us.”
“Watch your mouth,” I interrupted, stepping toward him.
Wesley moved away, reaching for the slider to the back door and walking out onto the back deck.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” he snapped.
“Wesley.”
“No, I’m fuck—I’m tired of it. I’m done with it. I want to move to California and I don’t want to finish school in Brixton.”
The patio chairs were still in a pile on the patio, and I watched as my younger brother collapsed on the grass instead. He stretched his legs out and straightened his back, resting on his forearms to stare up at the sky. I was older, creakier, and it took me some effort to get down to the ground. He laughed at me, but didn’t acknowledge me otherwise.
“Did something happen with David?” I asked.
“What difference does it make?”
“Just asking.” I shrugged and pulled my legs into a cross-legged position, which wasn’t much more comfortable than the pose Wes was in.
“You’re a hypocrite, you know,” he accused.
“How so?”
“You left.”
The two words sliced like a dagger in the center of my chest, and I rubbed my sternum, going as far as to check my palm for blood. There were plenty of things Wes and I didn’t see eye to eye on, but it had been a very long time since he’d sounded so accusatory.
“I had a job offer.”
“You alreadyhad a job.” He put such intense enunciation on the words, the meaning behind them was clear. I had a job in Brixton. And not just that, but I had a good job in Brixton. I didn’t need to leave, but I did anyway.
“Wesley.”
“And you had a boyfriend.” The addition came out like an afterthought, as though I would have stayed in town for Rome and Rome alone.
“He and I split up.”
“Before you accepted the job or after?” Wes asked.
“After.”
“Because of the job?” He opened his eyes, but stayed focused on the sky.
“Because we weren’t meant to be together,” I corrected, offering my brother the same explanation I’d given Rome the last night we were together. “Rome is a good man, but he’s not good for me.”
