“Oh, that’s bullshit,” Hayden mutters.
I swear, if I didn’t have a full glass of whiskey, I’d leave. As fast as Hayden tossed out his comment, he glances away and retreats behind his walls.
“Guys, come on,” Henry says softly. “Let’s just hang out, keep it light tonight.”
None of us speaks for several long seconds.
Holden’s words break through the soundlessness again. “Did I ever tell any of you why I enrolled in the mentoring program?”
No one answers.
“It’s not a rhetorical question,” he continues.
Henry frowns. “I always figured it was because of losing Dad. You guys were only eighteen.”
Hayden’s attention returns to our conversation.
“Partly,” Holden says. “But I had the benefit of a loving and spectacular father for eighteen years. I learned from him how tobe a man. Losing him was the most grievous thing I’ve ever been through, but it wasn’t the primary reason I volunteered. I joined because, when I was on the cusp of manhood, and didn’t have a dad anymore, mybrother—who was only twenty years old—interceded and made me keep my shit together.”
The room goes still.
“He hounded me to follow up on my college acceptance letter, and he handled the financial aid I didn’t understand. He even dragged my drunk ass away from a party one night before I almost got behind the wheel. I still don’t know how you knew where I was…”
“Yeah, and you gave me a black eye for it.” My attempt at humor falls flat.
All eyes are on Holden now, but his are aimed directly at me.
“You were hurting just as much as I was, maybe more. But you still showed up. You’re the reason I survived that time without completely screwing up my life. What you did for me, that’s why I volunteer. So, every kid I mentor, that’s ultimately because of you.”
I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out.
“It’s true, sometimes I push your buttons on purpose, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you or that I don’t remember that you rescued me from myself.”
I swallow hard. Then I make a point to look all three of my brothers in the eye, needing them to focus on my next words. Even with the dimmed lighting in the room, I can make out the somber expressions they wear.
“Don’t paint me a hero, Holden. Dad died because I let him down. Fighting to make sure my failure didn’t completely derail your lives doesn’t atone for that.”
Henry interjects. “Harrison, that’s not true. The?—”
“Isn’t it?” I glare at him. “I can’t grasp where everyone’s confusion comes from. Let me spell it out. It was our long runday, and I didn’t get up and go with Dad because I was too hungover. So, he died. Our father took his last breath alone in the woods because of my laziness. None of us is stupid. Had I been there to help, to perform CPR, Dad wouldn’t have lain splayed out on the cold, hard dirt for nearly three hours alone. He’d be alive right?—”
“No, he fucking wouldn’t be!” Hayden’s raised voice silences me and appears to stun the others. His eyes dart between Henry and Holden, then rest on me, and they mellow. “No, Harrison. He wouldnotbe alive.” His voice is just above a whisper now. “The doctors explained it more than once, but you still won’t allow yourself to believe it. Dad had a cardiac arrest from blockage in the artery they call thewidow maker. The. Widow. Maker. It would have taken a miracle for him to survive even if you’d been with him.”
“I could have donesomething,” I mutter.
“No, it wouldn’t have changed the result. He was a ten-minute run from the main path to where he was found on that hill. There was no cell phone reception. It was never going to be a good outcome,” Holden says.
“But maybe?—”
“No, let me finish.” I hesitate, but nod, and he continues. “If you were there and performed CPR, how long would it have been until someone came upon you to help? Even if you were screaming the whole time, it’s unlikely someone would have heard for quite a while. If you ran down the hill to get assistance, that’s ten minutes down and ten back up. Twenty minutes without CPR. There wouldn’t have been a good option even if someonewerewith him.”
“But he wouldn’t have been alone. If I had gotten up and gone, I at least would have been with him, so he wasn’t alone when he died.” My words are barely above a whisper, and I realize tears are rolling down my face.
“You did nothing wrong. You slept in; everyone does that. Yes, our family experienced an agonizing tragedy that day, but you don’t hold any blame for that.” Hayden’s words are logical, but try to tell my heart that.
“We love you,” Holden says. “You’ve got to release yourself from this false guilt and stop punishing yourself. Quit messing up the good things that come your way because you believe you don’t deserve them.”
I swipe at the tears. Jesus, I’m sobbing like a baby. I glance over at Henry, and he is, too. He’s also the one of us most in touch with emotions now that he’s found love.
