Losing Sawyer

9. Pain or Love

I slink into the house, quietly taking off my shoes as I take notice of the living room. Christopher must still be asleep which is perfect, my outing with Lee can continue to be a non discussion.

But as I set my purse down and turn around, Christopher emerges from our room, not the least bit mussed from sleep. His hands rest in the pockets of his joggers, a fitted dri-fit shirt on, the material stretched across his chest and around his biceps.

"Did you find a suit for your friend?" It's not malicious but it's also not said with an overwhelming tone of concern.

I nod, smiling, hoping that I come off as casual as I say "yeah, he got invited to show his work at a gallery."

"Tell him I send my congratulations." His lips press into a thin line, the distance that stands between us seeming almost endless in the moment.

For just a second I think about telling Christopher that I've been invited, so naturally I'd bring him along but the words don't form in my throat, the thought slipping from my conscious just as quickly as it came. It's not that Christopher wouldn't enjoy going to a gallery, he loves that sort of thing but I'm not sure I want to share the experience with him.

As the moment passes though my phone interrupts anything that might have been said. I give Christopher a sheepish smile, fumbling through the folds of my purse until I find it. James' name alerts me of his incoming FaceTime and my thumb hesitates to accept it. I know it's silly, but I try to take my calls with James in private, away from Christopher and his opinions.

"You're going to miss it." Christopher comments.

It'd probably be more awkward for me to decline the call and pocket my phone, if I were standing where Christopher was I'd think it was another woman. So I swipe my finger and accept the call, saying "it's James".

Pretending not to notice the resigned sigh that rushes from Christopher's chest I look down at my screen that's filled with my brother's face. And it's seeing his face that has my heart hurdling through my body, eyes blotchy and red even though he's not crying, it's clear he has been.

"James?" His name bursts out of me with panic "what's wrong?"

"I can't do this Van." He tells me, his voice full of heartbreak.

There's only one thing that makes James crumble. Brett.

"Did you see him?" I hear Christopher make some sort of noise, a sigh maybe, grunt possibly as he walks into the kitchen past me.

He's never said anything outright about James being gay and his disapproval of it but words aren't always needed. Sometimes it's the small things, the eye rolls, the perfectly timed sighs of disgust. And while I usually try to avoid conversation with James in front of Christopher so I don't have to subject myself to it, my brother needs me right now.

"I barely made it out." His usually confidant voice trembles with his uncertainty and heartbreak.

James still lives in town, a small apartment right in the middle of it, above a bar. I moved a short hour away, to a larger city with an amazing art scene but even though there's more distance between us it's only brought us closer.

"Want me to come over?" I ask, preparing to shove my feet back into my shoes and leave a disgruntled Christopher alone. Again.

James' eyes pool with tears, they stay welled there, brimmed behind eyelashes and the breath that leaves his body trembles.

"I can't let him back in just for him to leave again." He whispers.

His gray eyes harbor the countless hours I consoled James after Brett and him broke up. The weeks that led into months before James really started to come back to himself. All of the self assuredness and confidence he had lost and then found again is shattering piece by piece with everyday that Brett stays within distance.

"You have to tell him that James." I urge even though I know he won't.

That's the thing when you love someone so deeply. You'll let them hurt you, you'll let them steal pieces of you, if only so you can have them for a few minutes more.

My eyes seek out Christopher, a displeased look etched into his brow as he puts himself a salad together. I want to ask if this is what we are. If we are two people who love each other so deeply we hurt one another, but yet we also accept the pain that we inflict on one another. Are we bound by pain? And love?

"I can't Van." He whimpers.

And even though I know my departure will only wedge more between Christopher and I, I tell James I'll be there in an hour. I have to. I can't leave my brother, my best friend, alone while he so desperately needs someone.

Besides I wouldn't mind taking a quick detour to see Brett. It wouldn't be a far cry to say he's at Wes' and that's an address I still know very well.

As I hang up with James, I steel myself for whatever Christopher might say about it, ready to defend myself.

"Are you staying the night then?" He asks instead, his voice rather neutral.

I'm not sure if the answer he's hoping for is yes or no and I dance along the edges of the unknown carefully. "I'm not sure, but I might take a change of clothes just in case."

Just testing the waters, I study him while he nods his head at the information I've given.

"Drive careful then I guess. Let me know when you get there." His honey colored eyes finally meet mine as he wipes his hands on a towel.

"I will."

I'm rooted to my spot, wondering if this is a moment where we're inflicting pain or love. Is his aloofness meant to hurt me or is it because he understands that I need to be there for my brother? Is he going to go out and bring another woman home if I don't come back? Is it so bad if he does?

When I go to leave, an overnight bag packed, he's secluded himself to the patio. The glass door shut, his back to me.

And it's then I know that this is meant to be pain.