Still watching the sun crawl over a sky that doesn’t care how tired I am.
Still dragging a legacy behind me that no one asked me if I wanted to tow.
Sometimes I worry my grave will be dug beside the green bean crop. Maybe I’ll decompose and make the next harvest sweeter. Who knows.
And it’s all because I had the unfortunate capacity to love this place. Lately, I find myself wishing I’d hated it like Tommy. That I didn’t feel responsible to keep it afloat so my dad can rest easy. Tommy drove off after high school without so much as a lick of guilt. He never looked back; meanwhile, I don’t think I’ve ever moved forward.
It’s dinnertime before I hear from my brother.
“Hey,” he says cheerily, like I haven’t been waiting on him all day.
I dump a can of hearty beef stew into a pot. The sound is not appetizing. “I’ve been waiting on you to call me back all day.”
“Have you? That wasn’t clear in your one hundred texts.”
“And voicemail. I said it was important there too.”
He chuckles. “Sorry. But last night you called while I was out on a date—it would have been rude to answer a work call.”
“Of course you were on a date.” I fire up the gas stove and stir my pot of stew a little more rigorously than needed. “And let me guess? That date spilled into the morning, which led to the afternoon, and that’s why you’re just calling me back?”
“No, asshole.” He’s not chuckling anymore. “Well . . . it did spill into the morning because I’m a grown man and that’s what usually happens when two adults like each other. You should try itsometime and maybe you wouldn’t be so grumpy. But no—I didn’t shirk my responsibilities like you’re implying. I had three back-to-back client meetings today and an on-site observation.”
“Oh.”
“Oh? That’s all you’re going to say? You know what? No. I’m so tired of you being a condescending dick to me. Call me back when you’re ready to treat me like a professional.”
He hangs up.
I stare into the pot of stew and watch as it simmers around the edges. I’m pissed off—as I usually am after talking to my brother. But the thing that really bothers me is that he seems to think I’m chronically grumpy. Ask anyone in this town and they’ll tell you my personality is sunshine. But yeah, all he’s ever seen from me is anger.
And damn it, he’s right. I was a condescending dick to him just now. He is a professional and is known as someone important in his industry and is therefore doing me a massive favor by helping me with this restaurant. But every time we talk, angry shit flies out of my mouth and I don’t entirely know why. It happens every single time.
After taking a minute to breathe and move my stew to a bowl, I call him back, determined to put a lid on my anger, mostly for Madison’s sake. I need Tommy to not hate me while I ask him for more time.
“Hello?” he answers like a smug ass.
“Hi,” I say and then steel myself to keep going. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m great. I had an incredible coffee this morning, my favorite suit was clean, and I learned that my biggest project is coming in under budget by ten percent. Thanks for asking.” He says all of this like there’s a studio audience waiting to laugh their asses off.
“Great. Happy for you.”
“Thanks. What can I do for you, brother of mine?” It’s weird to hear him say that phrase. It’s what our dad has said our entire lives.What can I do for you, son of mine?And he says it in this deep comical tone like Tommy just did. It’s one of the few pieces of evidence that we did actually grow up in the same family.
I rub the back of my neck. “I need you to hold off on confirming all the choices we made with Madison the other day.”
There’s a long pause. “Why?”
“Because she might want to go another route with the concept.”
I hear Tommy take in an audible breath in the way someone does when they’re trying not to blow up at you. I imagine he’s pinching the bridge of his nose—preppy-boy hair falling back against his neck. “James. It’s too late.”
“No, it’s not. The restaurant isn’t open yet.”
“That is not at all how it works. Everything needed to be completed like last month. We’re already behind, and now you want me to delay more? Possibly affecting the opening date?”
“Yes.”
