It’s not the familiar voice I was expecting.
‘Hello?’ Chris says again. ‘Anyone there?’
I’m sweating, doubled up on the banks of the river, tongue-tied.
‘Cool, I’m hanging up now. I paused my game to answer this, you dick—’
‘Chris? It’s me, it’s Ethan.’
The words burst out of me before he can end the call. I figure he’s still going to hang up on my ass but at least I got to speak to him for a second.
‘Ethan?’
I screw up my eyes until fluorescent specks appear, and blow out a long, thin channel of air through pursed lips.
‘Yeah, it’s me.’
Neither of us says anything and maybe ten seconds go by. Doesn’t seem like much until you’re on the phone for the first time with your little brother who has completely cut you out of his life for the last three months, months that felt like decades. My heart pounds with the hope that he’ll say something then crashes with the fear that he won’t. Which is worse, excommunication or angry words? I don’t know.
‘What’s going on?’ he says eventually.
Almost exactly the same question Clive asked not a half hour earlier, but this time, I have to cover my mouth to stop him from hearing my sob.
‘You know,’ I choke out, clenching my stomach muscles to control myself. ‘School stuff.’
‘Soccer’s going good? You winning?’
‘Yeah, we’re winning.’
It’s the most mundane conversation we’ve ever had but if I got hit by a truck right now, I’d die happy. Chris is talking to me.
‘How about you?’ I ask, swiping at hot tears with cold hands, desperate to keep him on the line.
‘How am I?’ he repeats, and I could kick myself. What a stupid fucking question. ‘You talk to Mom lately?’
‘No. I, uh, I’ve been busy.’
And she hasn’t called me since I got here.
‘She’s been pretty busy, driving me to the hospital and all that kinda stuff,’ Chris says. ‘But I’m not going in so much now. Only twice a week for physical therapy and the hospital says I can do that from home soon. If things keep improving, they’ll send a nurse out to the house.’
‘For real?’
‘For real. Now all the swelling has gone down, the injury isn’t as bad as we thought. Doc called it “spinal shock”. He thinks I’ll make a full recovery.’
It’s the best news, better than I could’ve dreamed of. If this is karmic pay-off for me losing my shot at Harchester academy, I’m in, I’m all the way in.
‘Been seeing this other doctor too.’ There’s a long pause. ‘A psychologist.’
He swallows hard down the line and I hold my breath. ‘At first Dad said I didn’t need it, but I heard Mom say that’s only because it isn’t covered by insurance.’
We both laugh but there’s no joy in the sound. We both know who our father is.
‘The spinal guy, the neurosurgeon, he recommended this specialist who helps kids who have been in accidents. He’s pretty smart. Funny too. He played soccer at Duke.’
‘Blue Devils are a hell of a team,’ I say, rocking back and forth where I sit.
He’s going to be okay, he’s going to be okay, he’s going to be okay.
