On the Come Up(86)

“Mom,” he corrects, focused on the floor.

I don’t know why that word won’t come easily for me. “Is she okay?”

“She was in her room when I left.”

“Oh.” Messed up that I’m sorta relieved by that. “Any word on Aunt Pooh?”

“They’re still processing her. What you want, Bri?”

What’s that about? I’ve never had to explain why I wanted to see him before. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“You haven’t done enough talking today?”

It’s a verbal slap of the worst kind.

He heard the interview. Of the thousands of people who listened in, I never considered that one might be my brother. “Trey, I can explain.”

He sets the mop in the bucket and looks at me. “Oh, so you have an explanation for acting a damn fool on the radio?”

“He pushed my buttons!”

“Didn’t I tell you that you don’t have to respond to everything? Huh, Bri?”

“I’m not gonna just take shit that’s thrown at me!”

“You can speak up for yourself without acting like that!” he says. “First that Instagram video, now this? What the hell is wrong with you?”

I stare at this person who claims to be my brother. It looks like him, but it doesn’t sound like him. “You’re supposed to have my back,” I say, just above a whisper. “Why are you so pissed at me?”

He damn near chucks the mop. “Because I’m busting my ass for you! I drag myself into this job for you! Work long hours to make sure you’re good! And here you go, ruining any shot you have at making any goddamn thing of yourself by showing your ass every chance you get!”

“I’m just trying to save us!”

Somehow my voice is weak and loud all at once.

The fury leaves his eyes, and it’s my big brother staring at me again. “Bri—”

“I’m tired, Trey.” Tears prickle my eyes. “I’m tired of not knowing what’s gonna happen next. I’m tired of being scared. I’m tired!”

There’s a shuffling of feet, and two arms wrap around me tightly. I bury my face in Trey’s shirt.

He rubs my back. “Let it out.”

I scream until my throat is raw. I’ve lost Aunt Pooh. I may be losing my mom. I lost my cool so bad that I’ve lost more than I realize. I’m lost. I’m so lost that I’m exhausted from trying to find my way.

Trey leads me over to this little corner in the back of the kitchen that he calls his. Sometimes when I visit, I’ll find him sitting on the floor over here, wedged between the refrigerator and storage-room door. He says it’s the one place he can get away from the chaos.

Trey lowers himself to the floor and helps me sit down with him.

I rest my head in his lap. “I’m sorry I’m a burden.”

“Burden?” Trey says. “Where you get that from?”

From our whole lives. When Jay first got sick, she would disappear into her room for days on end. Trey couldn’t reach into all of the kitchen cabinets, but he always made sure I ate. He’d comb my hair and get me ready for preschool. He was ten. He didn’t have to do any of that. Then when we moved in with Grandma and Granddaddy, he still took care of me, insisting that he read me stories every night and walk me to and from school every day. If I had a nightmare about those gunshots that took Dad, Trey would run into my room and comfort me until I fell asleep.

He gives up so much for me. The least I can do is make it, so he doesn’t have to give up anything else. “You’ve always taken care of me,” I say.

“Li’l Bit, I do that because I want to,” Trey says. “A burden? Never. You’re too much of a gift to me.”

Gift. One word, one syllable. I don’t know if it rhymes with anything because it’s a word I never thought could be used when it comes to me.

Suddenly, it’s as if a cage has been unlocked and all of these tears I’ve had stored up inside fall down my cheeks.

Trey brushes them away. “I wish you’d cry more.”

I smirk. “Dr. Trey is back.”

“I’m serious. Crying doesn’t make you weak, Bri, and even if it did, there’s nothing wrong with that. Admitting that you’re weak is one of the strongest things you can do.”

I turn and look up at him. “That sounds like something Yoda would say.”

“Nah. Yoda would say, ‘Weak, strength is admitting you are.’” He kisses my cheek with a loud, sloppy “Muah!”

I quickly wipe the spot. I know I felt some of his spit. “Ill! Getting your germs all on me.”

“Just for that—” Trey kisses my cheek again, even louder, even sloppier. I squirm to get away, but yeah, I’m laughing, too.

He smiles at me. “I know you think I’ve done a lot for you, Li’l Bit, but you’ve done just as much for me. I think about everything we’ve been through, and if I’d gone through it by myself, I’d probably be where Pooh is right now.”

Damn. Aunt Pooh did say she became a GD because she didn’t have anyone. Now she’s in a jail cell without anyone again. I never realized that Trey could’ve been like her, with a record instead of a diploma. I know there’s so much else that made their lives turn out differently, but he makes it sound like the difference between them was me.