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Lucy wasn’t able to be strong then, but I could show her by example that we could survive the death of our parents. Only, I wasn’t surviving very well either. I didn’t want to let her down, or my brothers, or my parents. I’m
expecting Olivia to ask what happened, but she doesn’t.
“Tell me about them, and your siblings, too. Just one or two things.”
This is torture and she’s slowly killing me. I think about what I want to say before I do. “Luce is like the center and we revolve around her. From the moment she was born, my dad drilled into our heads what we were supposed to do as her big brothers. He would say, ‘You have to help teach her to do these things on her own, but when she can’t, that’s where you and your brothers step in. You have to be strong for Lucy and protect her. You and your brothers have to take care of her and always be there for her. It’s your job as her big brother.’
“After they died, she needed us. We’d all do absolutely anything for her without a second thought, and she’d do the same for us if we asked. So, there you go.” That was way more than I wanted to say, but now, we can move on to something else.
“Have you told them about being dropped this semester?” Olivia asks after a brief pause.
I glance at her. “No. My reasoning is sound, so don’t even try.”
The fury spikes in her eyes. “What’s your sound reasoning, then?”
“Didn’t you just hear what I said? How can I be strong for Lucy if she’s having to worry about me? I don’t want any of them to worry at all. I’m the oldest, that’s my job. They don’t need to know and I don’t want to tell them.” Maybe I will once I figure out what the hell I’m doing.
“You should tell them.”
“Well, I’m not. Next question.”
She performs her little analyzing stunt again. She doesn’t ask anything, though. “Get up. I’ll be right back.”
I do and she heads towards the bathroom. A deep, supposedly calming breath does nothing to make me feel better. Why in the hell did I say I would talk? Why?! When Olivia returns, I buy myself more time by going to the bathroom myself. She’s in the kitchen cooking scrambled eggs once I come back.
“Where are your friends, Corey?” She jumps right into the interrogation.
“I don’t have any. My friends were my teammates and once I was off the team, I didn’t talk to them anymore.” I take a seat at the bar, feeling weird that she’s cooking in my apartment.
“Yeah, but didn’t you have like a close friend or two? You stopped talking to everyone?”
“Yep.” I feel bad about it sometimes. My closest friend was my teammate Jamal, and he tried for months to talk to me and hang out. Once I moved here, he stopped. I wasn’t being a friend to him, or allowing him to be a friend to me, so our friendship ended. “Didn’t want to be around them anymore. I wasn’t one of them.”
“They’re still your friends. You should try getting in touch with them again.” I send a quick glare her way. “What made you move here?” Smart move to change the subject, Olivia.
I laugh at the stupidity of my actions. “I thought it would help to be away from where everything ended, but it only made things worse. I didn’t want what I lost being thrown in my face every day.”
She’s quiet as she grabs a few slices of bread for an egg sandwich. I wouldn’t be surprised if that mind of hers is jotting down notes. “What about a girlfriend?”
How much longer is this going to last? I rub my eyes, hoping I don’t have another tear-fest like yesterday. “She dumped me after I was injured.”
Olivia places the sandwiches on the bar, grabs two bottles of water from my fridge, and sits down next to me. “Because you couldn’t play anymore?”
“Thanks,” I say after taking a bite of the sandwich. “And not exactly.” Olivia has watched me fall apart, seen me cry for no reason, and has been on the receiving end of my angry outbursts. Now, I’m having to dig up my past that no one has ever seen and show her all the skeletons left behind. I don’t know whether to hate her for it or myself for offering. Or, maybe I’m taking a small solace in the fact that she’s someone I can tell these things to, even if it’s a struggle.
“She’s not like you,” I add. Olivia looks a bit surprised and then confused. “I mean, uh…” Shit. This is why I don’t like talking, because the words never come across the way I intend them to, or they reveal too much truth. “She never pushed. That’s what I mean. If I didn’t want to do something, she dropped it. If I didn’t talk to her for days, she took my excuse and accepted it. Afterwards, it didn’t take long before she gave up on us and so did I.”
Olivia’s voice is gentle as she speaks what I didn’t. “You gave up on a lot of things.”
Thankfully, I’m looking at my empty plate and not her. “Yeah.”
And I did. Everything hurt so much that it seemed like the only option. Sometimes, it still feels like the only option. Anything pertaining to football, I stopped doing. My world stopped turning, positioning me on the dark side where the sun never gets to rise, and it seemed pointless to try and keep the broken pieces left of my life together. So, I gave up. I moved away. Neither made it easier.
Now, I’ve taken a baby step, just a little one, but I think my world moved an inch too. There’s a sliver of light to be seen. It’s only visible when I take a moment to stop and squint to search for it. It’s better than nothing, I guess.
“Why did you kiss me that morning?” Olivia’s question drags me from my thoughts as I turn in my seat to face her, my knees bumping into her thigh along the edge of the chair. “I’m curious. Why me? Why a kiss and not a hug? Why that morning? You haven’t done it since. Not that I’m sure whether I want another or not, but I’m curious,” she finishes, repeating herself again. Olivia must really want an answer because she turns in her seat like I did, her knees between mine.
I’ve never had a girl ask me why I kissed her before. It’s weird. I mean, I know I’m not chatty, but it can’t be normal for her to ask me this. Knowing Olivia, a simple “I wanted to” won’t suffice either. “I’m not sure this goes with your old-fashioned point of view,” I try to deflect.
