“I should have noticed something wasn’t right with you and Ben.” He swallows.
My mouth pops open in surprise. “You weren’t responsible for any of that. I got caught up, and I did my best to hide it from everyone. I was ashamed and embarrassed, and Ben did everything he could to cut me off from friends and family. We can blame him.”
His hand slashes down in a sharp gesture. “I was too caught up in my own bullshit.”
I sigh. “No, I was too caught up in my bullshit.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not your fault.”
“That’s what my therapist keeps saying, but it doesn’t make it any easier to believe.”
He huffs a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah. Same.”
“We’re like two peas in the same shame-spiraling pod.”
I can’t believe I’ve been feeling guilty about not being here for him, and he’s felt just as guilty for the same reason. We need to talk more, share more. There shouldn’t be so much resistance to asking for help. We’re family. Maybe this can be our start in moving in the right direction.
I want to pull Jake into my arms and console him, but he’s stiff, staring into the dark room, arms folded over his chest.
“Jake, you should know you did help me. When you were in the hospital, I wanted to come home. Ben made me feel like I was being selfish.”
I shut my eyes against the memory and the humiliation. It was so obvious for so long, and I didn’t see it. Or I saw it and was incapable of changing it, like I had lost control of not only everything around me but myself as well. I still don’t understand how or why. It was like I was under a spell.
“You were the impetus that helped me get out. My love and concern for you overpowered my fear of Ben, which was all-consuming.”
Jake turns and pulls me into his chest. “I’m glad,” he says, his voice rough. “I’m glad that something good came out of something that really sucked.”
A short, watery laugh escapes me. I blink away the moisture building in my eyes.
He rubs my back a couple times, speaking so low I have to strain to hear the words. “I feel like I’m walking a tightrope. I think about drinking every day. Sometimes, I’m so close to snapping I can almost taste it. All I want to do is forget what I lost.”
I get it. Who wouldn’t want to forget the crap our family has endured? The need to escape can be overwhelming at times. I was able to cope by losing myself in my work, and I think Finley and Mindy could say the same, but Jake… he and Aria weren’t just siblings. They were twins. And he was with her when she died. I can’t imagine. But I also know that Aria wouldn’t want him to suffer. I don’t know what to say to make it better—nothing can, really, but I have to try.
“If there’s anything death has taught me, it’s that you need to live. Really live. You never know when it will be over,” I say.
I need to take my own advice and stop letting Ben get in the way of me living my life the way I want. I have to stop letting the past dictate my present and future.
Jake releases me. “I don’t know if I’m ready to let go.”
“It’s not about letting go. None of us could ever let Aria go. It’s about moving on. Making choices to honor her memory.”
His head drops, then he nudges me with his knee. “I guess it’s either that or death by cross-stitch.”
I laugh, covering my mouth to muffle the sound. “Archer is a good guy.”
“I’m glad Finley has him even though I want to punch him in the balls half the time.”
We stand there for a few more minutes, talking about nothing important, until I think I might fall asleep on my feet. By the time I make my way back to my bed, I’m spent and exhausted but in a good way. It’s like a giant invisible boulder that’s been living in my stomach, pressing on my lungs, has suddenly shrunk, and I can breathe again.