I'm Thinking of Ending Things(30)

“What?”

“In the background, behind her, there was a guy lying on the ground. He was looking at her. It wasn’t you.”

“I don’t know. I’d have to see the photo again.”

“You must know the one I mean.”

“I haven’t looked at those photos in a long time.”

“It’s the only one with her in it. And it’s weird, because this guy . . .” I can’t say it. Why can’t I say it?

A minute goes by. I think he’s going to let it fade, to ignore my question, but then he says, “It’s probably my brother. I think I remember him being in one of those pictures.”

What? Jake has a brother? How has this not come up before?

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“I thought you knew.”

“No! This is crazy. How did I not know this?”

I say it jokingly. But Jake is in serious mode, and I probably shouldn’t joke.

“Are you two close?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Family stuff. It’s complicated. He took after my mom.”

“And you don’t?”

For a second he glares at me, then looks back to the road. We’re alone out here. It’s late. We haven’t passed many cars since the boxy one. Jake is focused on what lies ahead. Without looking at me he asks, “Does it seem normal to you?”

“What?”

“My house. My parents.”

“What do you care about normal?”

“Just answer. I want to know.”

“Sure. For the most part, yeah.”

I’m not going to get into how I really feel. Not now, not since that was the last time we’ll be at the farm together.

“I’m not trying to pry, but okay, you have this brother, and how is he like your mom, exactly?”

I’m not sure how he’ll react to the question. I think he was trying to change the subject away from his brother. But I think now’s the best time to ask. It’s the only time to ask.

Jake’s rubbing his forehead with one hand, his other one on the wheel.

“A few years ago, my brother developed some problems. We didn’t think it was anything serious. He’d always been extremely solitary. Couldn’t relate to others. We thought he was depressed. Then he started following me around. He didn’t do anything dangerous, but it was odd, the following. I asked him to stop, but he didn’t. There was not a lot of recourse to take. I kind of had to cut him out of my life, block him out. It’s not like he couldn’t take care of himself. He can. I don’t believe he’s seriously mentally ill. Not dangerously. I think he can be rehabilitated. I believe he’s a genius and he’s deeply unhappy. It’s hard to spend that much time alone. It’s hard not to have anyone. A person can live like that for a while, but . . . My brother got very sad, very lonely. He needed things, asked for things I couldn’t help with. It’s not a big deal anymore. But of course it changed the dynamic of our family.”

This is big. I feel like I understand his parents better now, and Jake, too, just in the last thirty seconds. I’m onto something, and I’m not prepared to let it go. This might have an influence on me, on us, on the question I’ve been thinking about. “What do you mean he followed you around?”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s not around anymore. It’s over now.”

“But I’m interested.”

Jake turns up the radio, just a bit, but considering we’re talking, it’s annoying.

“My brother was on track to become a full professor but couldn’t handle the environment. He had to leave his work. He could do the job, but everything else, anything to do with interacting with coworkers, was too hard on him. He’d start every day with a wave of anxiety at the thought of interacting with people. The strange part is he liked them. He just couldn’t handle speaking with them. You know, like normal people. Small talk and that.”

I notice Jake has started to accelerate as he talks. I don’t think he realizes how fast we’re going.

“He needed to make a living but had to find a new job, somewhere he didn’t have to give presentations, where he could blend into the walls. Around that time he was in a bad place, and he started following me around, talking to me, giving me orders and ultimatums, like a voice in my head, always there. He was interrupting my life, like a sort of sabotage. Subtle stuff.”

“How so?”

Our speed is still picking up.

“He started wearing my clothes.”

“Wearing your clothes?”

“Like I said, he has some issues, had some issues. I don’t think it’s a permanent thing. He’s better now, all better.”

“Were you close? Before he got sick?”

“We were never overly close. But we got along. We’re both smart and competitive, so that creates a bond. I don’t know. I never saw it coming—his illness, I mean. He just sort of lost it. It can happen. But it makes you wonder about knowing people. He’s my brother. But I don’t know if I ever really knew him.”

“Must be tough. For everyone.”

“Yeah.”

Jake doesn’t seem to be increasing the speed, but we’re still going too fast. It’s not nice out. And it’s dark.