The Brightest Light of Sunshine

“Yo, dude.”

Grace stayed the night at my place.

Grace fell asleep in my arms.

She made breakfast in my kitchen with my ingredients.

My sister absolutely adores her, in and out the ballet studio.

Fuck this, fuck life, and fuck me.

“Earth to Cal.”

She told me she’s never dated anyone, that she’s never done anything with any guy or girl besides kissing. And why the hell am I focusing on this right now?

Something about that conversation made her upset, and although I know there’s something serious underneath that thick layer of reticence, I would never push her to talk about it. But in return, being in the dark is killing me.

“Yo!”

I feel it before I hear it. Trey comes up behind me and smacks me between my shoulder blades. Hard. “What the fuck, man?”

“Exactly.” He grins at me. “You zoned out. Been calling your name for a good two minutes.”

I roll my eyes at my best friend and co-worker. “Wow. Two minutes, you must be exhausted from all the waiting. Go take a seat.”

“Fuck you.” He laughs. “For real, though. What’s up with you today? You’ve been out of it since this morning.”

We might be close, but I’m not about to tell him my mind’s been on Grace since the moment I left the parking lot of her dorm. Knowing Trey, he’ll make a mountain out of a molehill and start planning our wedding or some shit. He’s been pestering me about getting with someone since I broke things off with my ex, and the man is annoyingly persistent.

But because he’s also annoyingly smart and he’s known me my whole life, lying to him and hoping he won’t notice is a luxury I don’t have. So, I tell him a different truth that’s also been on my mind all day.

“Maddie had to spend the night again.”

He curses under his breath, knowing exactly what it means. “Shit, man. You talked to your mom?”

I nod. “She picked her up from school today. I called her to confirm.” I even made her put Maddie on the phone so I could be sure. That’s how fucked up this whole situation has become.

Trey shakes his head in disbelief and plops down on the leather couch by the front desk. His last client left five minutes ago, and we’re about to call it a day. “I’m sorry, dude. It sucks ass, but at least Maddie’s happy with you, no?”

I shrug. “I guess.”

I know for a fact that my sister loves me and is happy to stay with me, but she’s a goddamn child—she needs a stable home and a healthy family life, and she sure as hell has neither right now.

I try my best for her, I really do, but it’s not enough. And I’m terrified that she’ll grow up into a resentful woman one day—maybe even with severe addiction problems like our mother—as a result of a childhood full of parental neglect.

A wave of nausea threatens to climb up my throat and I have to push the thought away.

“Ever considered therapy for her?” Trey asks, and not for the first time. He started seeing a therapist himself a few years ago, and he insists it was the best decision he’s ever made. Maybe I should consider it for myself, although God knows I’m messed up beyond repair.

I shrug again, as if having this conversation wasn’t killing me inside. “I don’t want her to think there’s something wrong with her. You know how kids are. Therapy may be a good thing, but a lot of parents still think you only need it when you’re borderline crazy, and they pass those beliefs onto their children. I don’t want her getting picked on at school. We don’t need to add bullying to the mix.”

“I get it, man, but if it’s the best thing for her then fuck everyone else.”

He might be right. I can’t think about this right now, though, or I swear I’ll throw up. I’m so damn tired of this mess.

Trey gets up and claps me on the back. “I’m beat. You good to close up?”

“Sure. Have a good night.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before he disappears out the front door he gives me an overly enthusiastic thumbs-up. “You got this, Best Brother of the Decade.”

“Fuck off,” I tell him, but I’m smiling. This dude, I swear.

It doesn’t take me longer than ten minutes to make sure everything is tidy and clean, every light is switched off, and the alarm system is connected. On my way to the car, my phone buzzes in the back pocket of my jeans. Thinking it must be Grace, I pick it up without a second thought.

The last time we texted she told me she was stressed out about some project for class, and that she couldn’t wait for her ballet lessons in the afternoon. It clears her mind in the way the gym clears mine.

But it’s not Grace texting me. Close enough, though.

Aaron: Hey, man. Meet me at The Spoon when the shop closes? I want to talk to you

I haven’t heard from him in a few days, which isn’t unusual for us. He’s a good friend, sure, but our schedules rarely align, and we don’t frequent the same places. While he goes out to bars and parties, I prefer quieter outings.

I’m assuming he talked to Grace, and she scolded him good, so he wants to make amends with me now. Smiling at the mental picture of little, tiny Grace putting her older, much bigger cousin in his place, I text him back.

Me: Sure. I’m on my way

***

The Spoon is one of Warlington’s hottest restaurants among locals and students alike. With its sleek touches and the friendly ambiance created by the cheery staff, along with the quality food, it’s easy to see why.

Since Aaron opened it nearly three years ago, I don’t think I’ve seen or heard of a night when it wasn’t full to the brim. Tonight is no exception.

I tower over most patrons as I walk in. People eat and laugh around crowded tables, and some others are standing on the bar and other high tables. Because of my build or tattoos, though—maybe both—, the crowd parts for me and I spot Aaron behind the bar in seconds, talking to one of the waitresses.

The second his eyes lock with mine, he tells her something that makes her leave, and he sends a tight smile my way.

“Cal, hey. Thanks for coming.”

“No problem.”

“Let’s go somewhere quieter.” I follow him towards the back, where he keeps a small office. He’s not at the restaurant every day since he only manages the business aspect of it, but he once told me that he hates working from home, hence the office.

It only consists of a big desk, two chairs and a couple of filing cabinets. He takes one of the chairs and I sit on the other one.

He leans back, so obviously uncomfortable it’s almost awkward, and starts, “So, um, I asked you to come because I want to apologize.” I’ll give him credit, at least he doesn’t break eye contact.

“Apology accepted.” I’m not one to hold grudges, anyway. They’re a waste of time and energy, and I’ve got more important things to worry about. Unfortunately.

He blinks. “Just like that? I had a whole speech prepared and everything.”

I smirk and he visibly relaxes. Leaning into the backrest, I gesture for him to continue. “By all means, enlighten me. I wouldn’t want a perfectly good speech to go to waste.”

He smirks back, but a second later his features sober up. “Listen, what I said was out of line and I hate that I hurt you. We’re friends, dude, and friends don’t pull that shit on each other.”

I don’t say I agree; I just nod.

“It’s been hard for me.” He shakes his head, and I see the heavy storm raging behind his eyes before he blinks it away. “I sound like a fucking asshole, don’t I? Grace’s got it much worse and here I am, whining about my protective tendencies.”

I must be staring blankly at him, or maybe with a shocked expression on my face, because he frowns. “She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” My heart starts hammering inside my chest. I have a feeling I know what he’s referring to, but I promised I wouldn’t push her or him and I intend to keep my word.

I’m not surprised by his loyalty. “Forget I said anything.” He clears his throat. “I don’t want you to think it’s an excuse, but the only reason I said that shit to you is because I love her, and I feel this primal need to watch out for her. I promise it wasn’t personal, but I’m ashamed nonetheless for what I said to you.”

She doesn’t need friends with ulterior motives. She doesn’t need to think they care about her, when all they’ve wanted from the start was to get into her pants.

His words still sting, all right, but I’m one hell of an understanding bastard. I might not know what happened to Grace, but I bet my life it’s the kind of evil that would make me want to rip a fuckhead or two apart once I find out.

Who knows how I would act if this was Maddie we were talking about. Perhaps worse than Aaron did, so I get it.

“All’s good, man. No bad blood between us,” I assure him. “What you said pissed me off, but it’s water under the bridge.”

“Thank you.” There’s a hint of relief in his voice. “And by the way, not that I’d have a say in this, but I’m fine with you and Grace being friends and all. You’re a good man, and she’s the greatest fucking thing that’s ever happened to me.”

I swallow, unsure how to respond. Aaron loves his cousin, that much is clear, and it sounds a lot like what I feel for my sister. There are many things about their relationship I don’t know about, I realize then. Two people don’t become so close just because, even if they’re family. Something bonds them along the way, good or bad.

And I suspect this is the bad kind.

Before I get the chance to say anything, though, he keeps going, “I still don’t know what the hell I could tell her to make her forgive me, because I know she’s pissed. She hasn’t replied to my texts in days, man. I’ve been worried sick.”

“She’s fine.” I almost reveal that she spent the night at my place and I dropped her off at her dorm earlier, and that we’ve been texting back and forth all day, but it’s probably the worst thing I could add to this conversation right now. Just because he approves of our friendship doesn’t mean he’ll be okay with anything else.

Not that there’s anything else between us.

Just a friendship.

“I still gotta talk to her.” He leans back and sighs. “I know she doesn’t like it when I get overly protective, but I can’t help it.”

“Just listen to her. Make an effort. Compromise. She won’t stay mad at you forever, don’t worry.”

“Yeah…”

“I’m serious.”

“I know, I know.” Another sigh. “Okay, enough about my cousin. We’re good, right?”

I give him a firm nod. “We’re good, Big A.”

The nickname does it. He leans forward and pats my arm in a brotherly way. “Thanks, dude. Appreciate it. Come on, you can grab a burger and some fries to take home.”

“No, it’s okay—”

He winks. “It’s on the house.”

Oh. Well, then. I’m not dumb enough to say no to free food.