None of those reasons had anything to do with reconciling with the brother he’d shared a womb and the first half of his life with. That wouldn’t be like Sol at all.
He’d had wanted to go home as soon as he was coherent enough to express himself, but Rory found out at the nurses’ station that the doctors were planning to keep him here a few days for observation.
They weren’t happy with his blood pressure and they wanted to run a few more tests. It was no surprise to Rory. Since Elder had retired his health had deteriorated. He had too much time alone to sit and brood.
When the floor RN had pulled him aside and asked him to help her staff by relaying that information to his father until the doctor came by, Rory agreed to go into Sol’s room and give him the verdict.
He should have said no.
“Faggot. Out,” he slurred with difficulty as soon as Rory walked in the door. “Wife killer.”
Rory froze at the hate in his eyes but a sharp intake of breath reminded him they weren’t alone. Younger was sitting beside the bed, and the expression on his face was one of shock and suspicion.
Rory forced an apathetic shrug as he winked at his father. “You’re slipping, old man. You know you’re not supposed to say things like that in front of people.”
His monitors started pinging their warnings. The sight of his youngest son was accelerating his pulse and increasing his blood pressure. Rory shifted on the balls of his feet, his own heart racing. His instinct to flee.
“Out.” His father made a fist and pounded the bed with his good hand. “Out. Out.”
Rory wanted to obey him but he kept talking instead. “The nurses gave me the short straw. They want me to tell you what’s coming next. You know…since I’m in the medical professional in the family and you’ve had a stroke.”
“Medical,” Elder sneered. “Guilty.”
He understood him perfectly and he couldn’t argue. The reason he’d ended up going to school to be an EMT was to heal people. To help. And guilt was a factor. He thought if he made a difference, he could honor the life of the mother who’d died to bring him into this world.
As if he could read his mind, Sol barked, “Should be you. Should be you.”
“Stop.” His brother sounded agonized as he stood and approached their father’s bed. “Damn it, enough.”
Elder’s eyes widened, as though surprised to see his namesake beside him, and Rory used his distraction to back out toward the door. “He’ll listen to you, so tell him he’ll be here for another day or two for observation and tests. A doctor will come in later if he has any questions.”
He’d slipped into the hall, his stomach churning and bumped right into his uncle. “How did you get back here? I thought he didn’t want visitors.”
“I was sneaking in anyway,” Shawn admitted, his expression troubled. As if he’d heard everything. “His nurse is willing to try anything, at this point.”
Rory nodded vaguely, his eyes on the exit.
“Rory, talk to me? Is that… I mean, what he said—”
“He just had a stroke,” Rory interrupted, feeling shaky. “It can cause confusion, strange speech patterns. Sometimes it can get pretty crude. The doctors will run tests and observe him for signs of temporary or permanent aphasia, and they know what they’re doing, so there’s nothing for you to worry about.”
Lies. A little truth. More lies. Don’t let him see.
Only Rory had to know Elder meant every word he said. That he blamed Rory for killing his mother. That he wished he’d died instead of her or with her instead of being such a disappointment.
That he was weak. A faggot. A mistake.
James brought him back to the present with a snap of his fingers. “Are you even listening to me?”
“I wasn’t sure you were really here.” Rory forced a smirk. “The ghost of my missing brother only shows up every third full moon.”
“Put a sock in it, pretty boy,” James sighed, cracking his neck and stretching his lean body as if he were preparing for a fight. “This place looks smaller now. I usually don’t notice. I have memories of getting lost playing hide and seek with Brady, but now I have no idea where anyone could hide.”
There were places.
Rory tried to see the house through his brother’s eyes, but all he noticed were stains and dark corners. So different from his aunt and uncle’s home. That place was always filled with sunlight. Or maybe it was happiness.
His uncle used to bring a little of it to them when he came to see them over the years. A toy, a bag of candy. Books Rory hid under his bed. Once, he’d even brought Owen’s bike over and taught Wyatt and Rory how to ride it while his father was at the station.