I considered calling the movers to pull my own mattress out of storage but decided against it. I’m not bold enough to challenge my father if he found out.
Most of my gaming consoles are living in that storage unit for the foreseeable future. Both Grant and I agreed only my computer set-up could fit in the corner of my bedroom. That was already pushing it.
“Are you sure you don’t want the Legos to go into storage?”
My brother carefully holds up the pirate ship model that took me hours to complete. I swear the straw hat-clad figurine sitting at the front of it wiggles as he talks, and I take large steps across the living room floor to retrieve it from his hands.
“I’m sure.”
My hesitance to put them into storage isn’t because I’m dying to display them—although they bring some color into the room. It’s mostly because I’m afraid they’ll be mishandled and end up in a million broken pieces. Too much time and effort would be wasted. Instead, they’ll live on the large white bookshelf resting against the corner wall.
Grant laughs. “Still can’t believe you’re…”
“A nerd?”
I laugh with him, and my brother waves his hands.
“That’s not what I was going to say. I can’t believe you’re so… normal?”
It’d be a ridiculous statement for brothers who didn’t grow up separated and only started learning about one another a few months ago. I get what Grant means, and why the reality of my hobbies is so jarring.
Three years ago, the most information I had about Grant was just that he existed. I gave up on a relationship with him before it was an option. I accepted that my place in his life would only be through awkward conversations and watching him stand up to our father in ways I never could.
In the last year I’ve gotten to know Grant, I’ve looked up to him. He’s headstrong and confident. He knows what he wants and he goes for it. When my father tries to manipulate him, Grant relents. Nothing and nobody can shape my brother except for himself. I idolize him.
It’s only been a few months of building our sibling relationship, but considering the wide grin when he smacks me on the shoulder, I think it’s going well.
“You had me fooled with those sleek suits for so long. I thought you were a robot or something.”
I only wear suits around my father. He likes the clean, pressed look so the public eye sees us as professionals. Grant doesn’t care about stuff like that. He’s in his own t-shirt and jeans, and he doesn’t even blink when Ghost runs across his sneakers.
“I feel like a robot sometimes.” Being more transparent is part of building our bond, too. The first thing Grant and I learned about each other, beyond the small unimportant details, was that we can empathize with one another’s feelings.
I understand why he hates Dad so much. I never felt offended when he pushed Billie and I away. I can’t imagine how hurtful it would be to constantly see us in the media with Dad while he was being ignored growing up.
At the same time, Grant doesn’t doubt me when I confess my fears about our father. Or how lonely it can get, not knowing anythingbutbeing a McCarthy. Set up for a lifetime of mundane business meetings and nothing else.
I know my brother will empathize when I say, “Dad’s such a piece of shit.”
He runs a hand through his wavy brown hair and sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry, dude. I hate that he’s only this tough with you, and not me or Billie.”
I shake my head while pulling another Lego set out of its box. “Don’t be sorry. At least I’m used to it.”
It doesn’t fly past me that Dad’s upset I spent money for a spontaneous plane ride… with Grant. Or that I’m scolded for going on a trip… with Billie. Or that out of the three of us, the only one he screamed at in his office… is me.
What’s the opposite of being the favorite child? Being the easiest target?
I’m not upset by it. I’ve taken the brunt of his anger for a lifetime—to the point of it feeling like an old friend. Out of the McCarthy siblings, it’s almost as if I’m best suited for the ends of our father’s anger.
“Just because you’re used to taking the heat, doesn’t make it right.”
“I know. But better me than the two of you.”
“Don’t say that.” He pats Ghost on the head before my cat runs off somewhere into the apartment. “Getting pissy at you for having a harmless summer of fun shows how detached he is as a father. I wish he tried that shit on me. I would’ve teared him a new one.”
Dad’s criticism echoes in my ears, but I smile. Grant is a few inches shorter than me, but more built, both physically and mentally. I think our father recognizes that too.
“What was it you said to him when he tried to get you in on VK Corp?”
