Page 63 of The Art of Drowning

“God, he was such a douchebag.” Callum exhaled, sounding less shaky now. Less distraught and a little angrier than he’d sounded earlier. “Did you bring your letter? What does it say?”

“I have it, but I haven’t opened it.” Shifting around, I grabbed it from my back pocket and carefully unfolded the envelope. It was still sealed, but no longer as crisp as it had looked when it had been handed to me.

“It can’t be worse than mine.” Callum offered and a pang of guilt stabbed me in the heart because I knew he was right. No matter what was in this letter, it couldn’t be worse than his.

For one, I was no longer emotionally invested in Sam in any way, shape, or form. Our friendship had been dead and buried for years, and I had no intentions of digging it up. Not even if he’d have lived.

And yet my hands still trembled when I tore the envelope open and my heart still crashed against my ribs as I took the papers out of the envelope.

Mine was a letter. Written on yellow legal paper in Sam’s tidy block printing.

“For the record,” I said as I unfolded the papers all the way. “Your brother was a fucking asshole. For this and for everything else.”

He was a jerk and a manipulator, and we’d let him do it and I hated myself for that. But I’d been so filled with guilt from sneaking around with Callum behind his back that I’d have believed that unicorns existed if he told me that was the price I had to pay to earn his forgiveness.

Forgiveness was never on his agenda. Looking back, Sam had always been a jealous friend. He didn’t like hearing stories about me hanging out with other people. Not even if I was only hanging out with other people because Sam was off being super student, local role model, and chick magnet.

To Sam, I’d been a toy that he liked to play with, and he refused to share me so that he could pull me off the shelf and dust me off whenever he wanted to use me again. I shifted around and put the letter on the coffee table and smoothed it out when my hands wouldn’t stop shaking long enough to read it. I put my hands on the table on either side of the letter and started reading out loud.

Damien,

If you’re reading this and my “brother” is there, fuck you both.

“Well, we’re off to a good start.”

If Callum is there, to him I say yes, the results are real. Ask Mom and Dad about it sometime. If Callum isn’t with you, well, I’d be surprised to be honest. Was my body even cold before you fucked?

“Probably not.” Callum scoffed. “God, he was such a bastard.”

I glanced at the next words, then at Callum before turning my eyes to the page again to continue reading.

Yes, I’m an asshole. But you were my friend first and yet you chose Callum. Just like my parents chose Callum. Just like everyone always chose Callum. Callum is so responsible. Callum is so kind. Everyone loves Callum.

Fuck Callum.

And fuck you.

I’m not sorry I broke you two up. I don’t wish you well. I don’t want you to be together now but have no doubt that you’ve already fucked each other’s brains out and then quickly realized that there were some lies told and some guilt placed to keep the two of you from getting back together before now.

I wasn’t supposed to grow up in Callum’s shadow. He wasn’t supposed to be there. And everywhere I went, I was compared to him. He was the golden child. The good one. I was the wild one. The loud one. The problematic one. And yet I was the real one. But somehow I wasn’t good enough.

“Talk about revising history,” Callum said. Disbelief and disdain dripped from his words. Next to me, he tensed, his whole body going rigid like he was squaring up for a fight. “Did he live in the same house as me? Mom and Dad were always on about how great Sam was. How responsible of him it was to work so hard every summer.”

Sam had written more, but I wasn’t sure I was interested in reading it yet. He’d talked about the lies and the guilt he’d used to break us up and keep us apart. Not that it had been hard to keep us apart. Neither Callum nor I had exactly fought him on it. We’d both loved Sam, and he’d known that. He’d used it. He’d planned on it, in fact.

“Your parents clearly have some secrets. I think it’s safe to assume that maybe we don’t know everything that went on.”

Callum snorted. “You think? I mean, if this is true…”

My heart broke on the sound of his voice cracking.

“Then who the fuck am I?”

THIRTY-ONE

callum

THEN