Where We Begin

Chapter 41 - We Went Through Hell Together

Nov 29th, 2002 - Busta

I'm running, running as fast as I can. I recognize our Chicago townhouse, except the rooms are a mile wide and the hallways stretch on forever. I can hear the pounding of his fists against the walls, his voice bellowing after me... all the ways I disappointed him... all the ways he was going to teach me a lesson.

A door I don't remember opens and a hand pulls me inside. It's pitch black. I am still panicking. I struggle to keep running, but I can't. 

"Shhh," Taylor whispers. "It's safe here."

Suddenly, the darkness dissolves and I'm with her. It's calm where we are... there's no ceiling, no floor... only the two of us, hands intertwined. Taylor smiles and I know I'm alright... until she starts shaking me.

"Wake up!"

"What the fu..." I sputtered, quickly rolling from my stomach onto my back. I can feel a string of drool connecting my mouth to my pillow and my sheets are clinging to my sweaty body.

"Wake up!" Buddy said, again. "You were shaking and stuff, like a dog having a bad dream."

"Well, yeah... 'cause... whatever." I looked over at my clock. It was almost 2 in the morning. "What's going on?"

"I can't sleep."

I ran my hands through my messy hair, attempting to push it out of my sleepy eyes and get a better look at my brother. He seemed to be studying me too.

"We don't look anything alike," he wondered aloud.

I was confused. I mean, he was right, I took after my mom's side for sure. Dark eyes, dark hair, and after a few months under the California sun, there was no denying that I inherited a pretty decent tan thanks to my grandmother's Italian roots. Buddy had much lighter brown hair, blue eyes, and the only thing the sun did for him was bring out his freckles and burn his shoulders. 

But why was this coming up in the middle of the night?

"It kind of sucks, you know," he said. "You and mom and Ivy all look the same and I look like I was adopted. Because I look way more like... like him."

I opened my mouth, but I had no idea what to say. Buddy bringing up dad brought back foggy flashes of slamming doors and angry voices, bad dreams and real memories weaved together.

He continued, without giving me a chance to come up with a response. "Sorry, I know that's random, but people are always like 'oh, you must take after your dad'. I know they mean looks, no one here knows what an asshole he is, but I still hate when they say it. I hate having to remember how bad it was."

Buddy had always been so chill and optimistic through the bad times, he hardly ever complained. Sometimes I forget that he has low points too. I should've checked in with him more. 

"I get it, that sucks, but dude, you know you're nothing like dad. You're already ten times the man he is, nothing about you inside is the same as him," I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. "You immediately had tons of new friends when we got here, because everyone who meets you can tell you are worth getting to know. I shouldn't admit this to you, but you know you are way cooler than I am."

"Yeah, but now you have a girlfriend and stuff," he mumbled. "You probably talk to her about all the stuff we used to talk about."

My heart broke a little bit. I thought back to one morning last summer, when I was feeling like shit and Buddy came in here to snap me out of it. We made promises to hang out more, like we used to.

Then Taylor happened, and I didn't make good on that promise. Buddy and I had spent over a decade sharing the same room, and often times the same bed when we were little. He was my sidekick, my partner in crime. We went through hell together.