A House Full of Brothers

Chapter 34

  It's been two days since I've been at Blake's and one day since my brothers said it was okay to go back home.

  "Brooklyn. You know you can't stay here forever, right?" Blake chastised from the kitchen while I sat at the dining table with a bowl of cereal.

  "I've been here for two days." I rolled my eyes.

  "Yeah but you were allowed to go home yesterday morning."

  "Yeah but I'm mad at them." I mimicked his tone. "I told them I would be back when I wanted to."

  "The longer you stay here then the longer it'll be until you can talk to your dad."

  "Father," I correct, "He lost that title when he left. Besides, the longer I stay here then the longer until I see my brothers. At this moment, I'd rather not see my brothers than talk to my father." I crossed my arms stubbornly and Blake just stepped around the counters and took my cereal which caused me to glare at him.

  "You need to go talk to him." Blake stated authoritatively while he pointed at the door.

  "I don't want to."

  "If my dad was alive, there are many things I'd want to say to him, Brooklyn. Your father has been out of your life for 12 years, I know there are things you want to say to him." Blake tried to make a point.

  "Oh trust me, Blake, there are a lot of things I want to say." I did have a lot of things to say. I just didn't exactly know what they were....

  "Then how are you gonna say them?" He rolled his eyes, only making me more annoyed with him - with everything at this moment.

  "Do you even know if my dad is at the house?" I sassed but it backfired when Blake nodded. "He's there?" I reassured and his cocky attitude heightened as he continued to nod slowly. I continued to bicker with Blake as to why I couldn't, shouldn't, and wouldn't go.

  The argument was useless as Blake had gotten me into the car within five minutes, winning the argument by making valid points. So now we're sitting in the car, in front of my house. My arms are crossed and Blake is giving me a look which is basically telling me to "get the fuck out". 

  I clambered out of the car, muttering curse words and pathetic little insults under my breath. Thankfully, while in the car, I convinced Blake to go with me so I had some emotional support. I was taking deep and unsteady breaths while standing on the porch. My hand raised to knock but I dropped it a mere instant before going through with the action. I turned to go back but was blocked by Blake's chest.

  "You need to relax, you're stressing way too much. At this point all the stress is because of your original stress." Blake spoke after firmly planting his hands on my shoulders.

  "I'm not stressed." I lied. It was a pointless lie though. A total stranger - even a baby could tell I was stressed.

  "Brooklyn, you're knocking on your own door." He pointed out. Now that... that I had no explanation for.

  I took another deep breath and mumbled "fuck it" under my breath and pushed through the door. At first, I was proud that I went through with it. But as soon as the door was fully opened I found myself regretting the little wave of confidence.

  "Where is he?" I asked quietly,.

  "Mom's room." Jackson spoke just as quietly. All of them were dead silent. They're just staring at the floor or their hands, also struggling to wrap their heads around everything that is going on.

  My first reaction was anger. No one had been in her room since she passed. Then I was engulfed in dread upon realizing I would have to go into that room. After standing silently for a few more seconds I finally made the journey up the stairs and soon found myself standing in front of her door.

  I gave a light knock and then entered with Blake still close behind. My father jumped lightly but composed himself quickly. I kept my eyes focused on him, knowing that if I looked anywhere else I'd break more than I already am. It was odd seeing a grown man brought to tears so quickly, but there it was, unfolding right before me.

  "You look just like your mother." His voice was raspy and his comment made my heart ache. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts and wiped his eyes. "You wanna talk." He tried to calm his breathing and sat on the edge of the bed. I stayed standing, feeling like sitting on the bed would make me even more upset. But nonetheless, I started my questions, with the very question that has been confusing me forever.

  "Why?" My voice shook and speaking proved to be too much as I felt the tears rise. He wouldn't raise his eyes to meet mine, they lingered on the rug below our feet.

  "When she was sick, they knew from the beginning that she wasn't gonna make it. I was confused. My mind was all over the place. One part of my mind was on the fact that the love of my life was dying right in front of me. Another part of me was wondering how I would explain to all of my children. Another part was trying to figure how I would raise them on my own. Another part didn't know how I could even care for them on my own. I finally realized how much I was drinking and sleeping and I thought it was just hurting you. It was. The problem comes when I thought that leaving would resolve it. While the idea lingered in my mind for a few days, I just completely lost it when I realized that I would be alone to witness you all grow up. That was her dream. Yes, I wanted to see you guys grow too, but the passion she had when talking about you guys grow was insane. I didn't think I deserved to witness her dream. 

  "So there are many answers to your question: I was lost and grieving; everything that went through my mind was thought of in an abnormal way. I thought that leaving was the best solution to fix the problem caused by my drinking. And lastly, I though it was selfish of me to watch the thing your mother only dreamed of seeing." His tears started again as mine only continued to fall.

  "Why did it take you so long to come back?" My voice was weaker than I expected, Blake also seemed to notice as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders from behind, calming me.

  "When I left, I was worse than when I was here. I drank more and even found my way into drugs. I went to rehab. I was let out in about 6 months. I was quick to make my way back and I stayed there longer, trying to be sure I would come out clean. I did come out clean. Then I was depressed, and medication came my way. The pills for my depression and anxiety helped and I was dependent on them but I don't want to say addicted. Eventually the pills stopped working and I was struggling to fall asleep at night. I got pills to fix that. And then I realized I was addicted to those. And back to rehab I went. It was just a never ending cycle. I went to rehab the last time two years ago. Then I was honestly just terrified to talk to you guys and was soon sentenced for tax evasion since my mind was constantly on rehab, getting better, getting worse, drugs, alcohol, sleeping, and lack of sleep. And now I have a month before I have to start my sentence."

  "So now you're leaving again?" The question seemed much more accusative than I had meant for it to be. He nodded weakly.

  "I fucked up so many times, Boo," Another set of tears fell at the nickname that he and my mom used to use, "and this is just a repercussion. This time, I am not leaving willingly but I am so so sorry," He began to choke up and I subconsciously dug myself deeper into Blake's embrace, "And I know you're pissed at me. But I just want to leave knowing that you may be able to forgive me at some point in my life - in your own life for that matter. Please." He begged. We all stood there for a few seconds as I tried to steady my breathing for my reply.

  "I can try. But that's all I can say." I whispered. He stood up with a weak smile and wet eyes and walked over to me, causing Blake to let go and step back a bit. As he got closer, I only wanted to hide myself back in Blake's arms. A hug from my father seemed like too much for my mind to handle at the moment. But when his arms wrapped around me and his heartbeat played beside my ears, the little girl that used to live for his hugs revealed itself and I found my arms tightly wrapped around his waist as I began to sob. Why? I don't really know. There were so many emotions running through my mind and the only way my body could cope was through crying. It didn't matter why though. I was standing there hugging a man that I pretended to hate for most of my life, when I was really only longing to see him again.

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