Tyler let out a slow breath.Message received. Loud and clear.
*****
Jordan paced outside the door of Kevin’s bedroom. She wasn’t ready to go in just yet. She had left the kitchen almost half an hour ago and she still couldn’t find the courage to face him. The imaginary sign on his door read: Proceed with caution. She’d put it there years ago.
Max had a violent temper and he threw punches without thinking. But a few bruises were the only marks he left behind. Kevin was different. He never resorted to physical violence. Her little brother attacked with words; hateful, despicable words thatcould reduce even a strong woman like their mother to tears. And that was him on a good day. He didn’t leave bruises on the outside. No, he left his mark on the inside, holes that even time could not repair.
Kevin was a great kid. He was witty and thoughtful and he could be really sweet when he wanted. Deep down he had a good heart, but he went to extreme lengths to protect it. He never opened up. He never showed weakness. Emotionally, he had completely closed himself off to everyone except Perry. He was all about walls and boundaries. Disrespect those boundaries and he retaliated in the nastiest way.
He was the silent observer. He didn’t talk much but he was always watching and because of this he could see weaknesses, cracks no one else could see. That, on its own, wasn’t a bad thing, but when provoked, he didn’t hold back. He exploited those weakness, stuck a crowbar into those cracks and ripped them right open. Words were his defense. Words were his way of keeping everyone out. Deliberate and strategic, he used them to hit a person where it hurt most.
When he was ten, they’d had an argument over something stupid and he’d lashed out, saying that she was just a stupid dork and the only guy dumb enough to date her was Billy Mason. As an adult she knew it was a trivial, meaningless comment, but as a slightly insecure fifteen-year old, that hurt like hell. She’d grabbed him by the ear and dragged him outside, gave him a hammer and a nail and told him to redirect his anger by hitting the nail into a log. After he was done, she pulled out the nail and showed him the hole.
“That’s what your words do to people, Kevin,” she’d said. “And it doesn’t matter if you say you’re sorry, that hole doesn’t close. It stays there forever.”
She’d seen this analogy in some self-help book somewhere and she’d thought it would be a life lesson, a way for him torealize that he shouldn’t say hurtful things without thinking. Yet the teachings of a big sister had somehow gotten muddled. It didn’t make him change his behavior. Instead, he used it as a way to keep count.
Out in the backyard was a log for every member of the family and the one with her name had nineteen nails in it. This was the reason why she was petrified to walk into his room. One careless word from her side and she could easily earn herself another nail.
Her brother had lost his best friend in the most tragic way and she didn’t know if she had it in her to be what he needed.
Just do it, she told herself. As she opened the door, she was greeted by posters of J-Lo and Beyonce’ on the wall. The room was big enough to fit two beds, two bean bag chairs, a pool table, a fooze ball table, a flat screen TV, and a cabinet displaying all his swimming medals. It was a man-cave her parents had set up just for him and Perry and the absence of Perry made the room feel uncomfortably large.
Kevin sat on his bed, his blue eyes swollen from lack of sleep, his broad shoulders sagging with sadness. He didn’t say a word, just kept staring out the window. She knew why. Every morning Perry came by and hollered from the fence until Kevin went outside. After fifteen years, he was sitting there waiting out of habit.
“Hey, Bink,” she whispered.
His jaw clenched and even though she could tell he was a little annoyed, he shifted the gaming controls next to him to make room for her to sit down. The thick, white bandage on his forearm was the only evidence that proved he was in a car crash. She eased herself onto the bed beside him, stretching her legs out and leaning her back against the headboard.
He silently turned back to the window. When a soul is ripped out of a body so unexpectedly, the people who were closestto the body had a hard time accepting that the soul was no longer there. Kevin was still in the denial phase and he was going to keep torturing himself with false hope. After half an hour of watching him stare outside, she broke the silence with a tremulous voice. “He isn’t coming, Bink.”
His breathing instantly changed, sharp going in and staggered coming out. He clutched the dog-tag chain around his neck, holding onto it until his knuckles turned white. As more seconds ticked by, his breathing became heavier and more strained. She didn’t look at him, didn’t acknowledge the weakness he was trying to hide. Instead, she listened, listened to the irritating sound of him grinding his teeth as an attempt to stop himself from crying.
She dropped her hand, palm up, onto his lap. He lightly shoved it off his leg and drew his knee up. Placing his elbow on his thigh, he used his hand to cover the side of his face she was exposed to. She couldn’t see the tears, but she knew they were there. His shuddering body and the deep sighs told her he could barely keep them in anymore. She didn’t move her hand away. She kept it there, open and waiting until he was ready.
It was over an hour later when he finally took it and he gripped it so tight she had to stop herself from wincing in pain. He placed the other hand over both his eyes, still struggling to keep himself together. She waited a few more minutes before she lightly tugged his hand and he dropped his head onto her lap. She gently stroked her hand through his brown hair and his eyes began to drift closed.
“Did you lose to Max?” he whispered tiredly.
“Yeah.”
“What game was it this time?”
“Rock, paper, scissors,” she admitted softly. “Who the fuck cheats at rock, paper, scissors?”
“Max.” A small smile deepened his dimple. “I’m glad you lost, Jo-jo.”
“Me too, Bink.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Me too.”
It wasn’t that he wanted to sleep. He probably hadn’t slept since the accident and he just couldn’t fight the exhaustion anymore. She sat there, rigid and unmoving. He needed to rest and even when her back pulled stiff and her legs went numb, she didn’t do one thing to disturb him.
After almost six hours, he began to stir and it took a few tries to open his heavy eyelids. “Feeling a bit better?” she asked.
He sat up with a groan and rubbed both hands down his face. “No.”
“Tomorrow is gonna be tough, but all of us are going to be there for you.”
His face flinched. “I’m not going to the funeral.”
