Jet
I wanderedinto the small café and pushed my sunglasses up. It was early, or at least, early for me. Still, I’d managed to haul my ass out of bed, chug some coffee, and arrive only a few minutes past ten.
My bleary eyes trailed across the pastry counter, to wide windows filled with houseplants and through the friendly bustle of the place, until they landed on Noah, and I froze.
I hadn’t seen my little brother in years, but no doubt about it—that was him.
He sat at the table in the rear, his thumbs flying over his phone. He looked like he was already well into his day, dressed in a professional suit and tie. His hair was combed, a briefcase sat at his side, and there was a tiny espresso cup in front of him.
My stomach twisted. He was only twelve the year I turned eighteen and got kicked out by my dad. I was a senior in high school, but even back then, Noah was all the things I wasn’t. Smart as hell, strangely mature for his young age, and a total rule-follower. Naturally, our parents loved him. Mom was a conservative state senator, and Dad was the local pharmacist, so appearances were always of the upmost importance to them.
Straight-A Noah was the respectable, responsible son they always wanted. Sexually active, misbehaving Alastair? Not so fucking much.
I wrestled through all the complicated emotions that rushed to the surface. Guilt for losing track of him and for failing to be there for my brother in so many ways when he was just a child. Disappointment in myself, that I didn’t fight back harder against our parents, but instead abandoned him to their constant, controlling behavior. And humiliation for all the ways I had acted out, bringing a reign of chaos to the household, chaos that must have impacted Noah.
No wonder he hadn’t seemed to want an adult relationship with me. The one other time we’d tried to reconnect, I was pretty sure he’d hated every minute of it. But still, now that we were living in the same city, maybe I could beg another chance?
I ordered myself a cup of coffee from the counter, then finally approached him. “Noah?” I said, more hesitant than I intended. “Hey, man.”
My little brother looked up, and it was like facing the past. He had our mom’s blue eyes and thin nose, but like me, he’d inherited some of the broad contours of Dad’s face. His hair was the same dark color, although slightly curly, while mine was straight. And while I’d steadily packed on muscle and meat over the years, Noah was still slim.
“Alastair,” he said and offered his hand as he stood. “How’s it going?”
Shaking his hand felt… weird. Almost as weird as hearing my legal name, instead of the name I’d been using for years. It was all way too formal, but I took his hand anyway and ignored the desire to pull him in for a hug. “Good, good. How about you?”
He gestured to the open chair across from him, and we both sat. “Not bad. I just finished a couple of early meetings.”
“You’re still working in architecture, right? You moved here for a new job?”
“My partner and I opened our own firm.” He turned his phone upside down on the table, dismissing it. “It’s small, just a handful of employees, but I haven’t had time for much except the setup since we got here.”
“Wow, that’s impressive,” I said. “I’m not surprised, though. I remember you were always so smart.”
Noah frowned to himself. “I don’t know how much a person’s eighth-grade report card matters, but yeah, I guess.”
An awkward silence settled over the table. The guilt nipped at me again, and my annoying brain insisted that I should rapidly switch the subject. It was way easier to not think about the difficult stuff, especially not five minutes into our reunion. Luckily, though, Noah took care of it first.
“You’re still a DJ? Like when we met up in New York?”
I pushed my hair back. “Not really,” I answered, feeling the need to downplay my work, like being a DJ was an unacceptable profession, even though I was truly proud of what I’d accomplished. “I’ve been travelling without a home base for years, and it gets exhausting. I used some of my savings to get a place here. I want to record an album, maybe start to play around with producing.”
My voice lifted while I talked. I was excited about my new plans. Fucking thrilled, in fact. I’d loved my decade of world travel, and I’d forever feel grateful for those experiences. But staying in one place, I hoped I could get other projects done, stuff I’d dreamed about doing for years.
There were other things I wanted out of my life too, after all.
When Noah only nodded softly, though, I remembered how it probably looked to him. I had always been an irresponsible party boy, and in his eyes, I still fell far short of the Brown family standard of a mature adult.
“Well, I hope you get to do everything you want here in Pittsburgh,” he said, and another awkward silence stretched across the table.
I felt anxious. I felt like this was all my fault.
And now I was forced to sit there with the consequence of my choices over the years: a brother who felt like a total stranger.
“Does your—” I started.
“Are you—” Noah said at the same time, and we both snapped our mouths shut.
“Go ahead,” I encouraged him with a nod.
