We have keys to each other’s apartments. He must have heard me pacing above him. He and Em live in the flat downstairs, and I feel so bad for disturbing him, but selfishly I’m also relieved he’s here now. I honestly don’t know what I’m gonna do if he and Em move out. Lord knows I’m not their responsibility, and I wouldn’t blame them for wanting to get away and have their own lives without me and my neverending problems, but…please not yet.
“Frère. Where y’at?” he asks, our standard hometown Big Easy greeting.
I can’t respond right away, but he just sits patiently in his t-shirt and sweats, letting me go through the shakes and out the other side. He knows I’ll tell him what’s up when I’m ready. And besides, it’s hard to sign with the tremors.
I’m having a freak out, I tell him eventually, being what Leo would call ‘Captain Obvious’.
He stands and heads to my kitchen cupboards, starting to make cocoa. It’s part of our routine: Dean has a meltdown, and Eli fucking parents him because Dean can’t handle his shit like a normal man. I love my cousin for his constant, unwavering, twenty four seven support, and I hate myself for needing him in the middle of the goddamn night when he’s fast asleep after a hard day’s work.
You should have died, fucko. The old intrusive thought is always too eager to be heard.You should have run out of that classroom and gotten shot and killed, and given Mrs Obermana fighting chance, and let Eli live his life without you as his constant burden.
He’s so calm. Just him being here, whisking cocoa powder into milk with a fork, is bringing my stress levels down. If the trauma does overtake my ability to control it tonight, I know he’ll make sure I stay safe and that nothing bad happens to me. But I keep coming back to the thought that, if Ihaddied that night, he’d have been better off. He’d have grieved, sure, but eventually he’d have moved on, and at least he wouldn’t have to build his adult life around caring for his car crash clusterfuck of a cousin. He could live where he chose, enjoy his wedding without having to keep one eye on me…Shit.
“Tell me what it is,” he rumbles, the Cajun accent we used to share sounding stronger because he’s tired.
I lean my head back against the wall again.I can’t stop thinking about Callie, I admit.
Understanding dawns in his eyes. “Nightmares?”
I nod.Nightmares. Mental flashes. A flood of memories. She’s always smiling at me.
He checks his smart watch.
No, it’s not an anniversary or anything. I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhausted and wired and desperate for the sleep I dread.
Eli places the mugs of cocoa in the microwave. It’s not the best cocoa in existence, but it does what it needs to do. I miss my mom’s. She always added piles of mini marshmallows, and sometimes even made Oreo whipped cream for the top.
“Why do you think it’s bad right now if it’s not an anniversary or anything?”
I sigh.Frère, that’s a good question.
He says nothing, giving me the space and time to think about it and come to my own conclusions, the way one of my previous therapists taught him to. Drives me nuts, because I’d rather bedistracted with talk about literally anything else, but I have to admit it always ends up working.
Maybe… I hesitate.Maybe she’s…not the only one I can’t stop thinking about.
He nods, seeming in no way surprised.
It’s so stupid, I continue.As if she’d even be interested in me.
“That’s a pretty big assumption you’ve made there,” he cautions me softly as the microwave whirrs.
I give him an uncertain look.So you know who I’m talking about?
He smiles faintly, without a trace of pity. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say it’s your pink-haired-after-hours-stone-tattoo lady from last week.”
I nod reluctantly. I know I can trust Eli with this, but I’m still not crazy about the idea of talking about it.I don’t get like this over women, you know that. All…preoccupied. Not since Callie.
He thinks about what I’ve said for a second, and then the microwave dings. Handing me my mug, he takes his and considers his next sentence as he drinks. “It’s been fifteen years, man,” he says, not unkindly. “You paid your dues. More than. You mourned her long and hard. Callie would never expect you not to live your life. It’s OK to move forward, and to find someone new. You deserve that, at the very least.”
Let’s not go there, I say darkly.
He mulls it over and shakes his head. “OK. I don’t think having the same argument yet again is going to help you tonight.” Eli has always insisted, forcefully and with absolute certainty, that I have nothing to feel guilty about regarding the Nolan High Prom, and I beg to motherfucking differ. But he’s right, that old fight of ours is not something I have the energy for right now. “All I will say is, it’s OK to like someone. It’s OK to find someone attractive, youareallowed. And if you decide it’swhat you want to do, it’s OK to act on it. It’s also OK not to,” he muses, “but I’m not sure that’s what you really want.”
I bang my mug down on the floor and get up, starting to pace again. He lets me. He knows I need this sometimes, and that suppressing that urge leads to an even worse reaction.
It’s too much, I rant with my hands, my signs getting faster and more violent.I need to get this fucking nonsense about her out of my head so I can go back to normal. I don’t like this. It’s too much, and…shit, man…I’m fucking useless to any woman. I’m a liability. Just ask Callie. Ask Mrs O. Ask her unborn baby, OH WAIT, you can’t because they’re ALL DEAD -
“See that spice rack?” Eli jerks his thumb over his shoulder, where I have small bottles of herbs and spices all lined up on a small wooden shelf. “Tell me which ones you got.” I glare at him. “I might need to borrow them if I ever run out.”
