Imagine Us in Heaven

The Prodigal Son

I never really think about why it's so easy for Ivor to see right through me without even questioning the things I do to him. I've always known he's a good brother, and even now, he continues to prove that despite the lingering questions in his mind.

"Winter looks tired," he says that night, coming home after that 'adventure' we had in the church—an experience I wouldn't dare share with them, fearing I'd get another row of sermons. Honestly, they're more overprotective of Winter than me.

"We watched a lot of shows and visited places with Christmas trees," I explain. The angel is sleeping in my room after that exhausting day.

Ivor smiles and continues helping Nina prepare our meal for Christmas Eve dinner. Clement is still at his bar, celebrating the Christmas party with his employees, but he'll be arriving later, along with everyone else.

"Aren't you going home?" I ask.

When I say 'home,' I'm referring to our family home. Since he found me, Ivor has been a constant visitor. At first, I thought it was because of Winter, but now it's clear that my brother keeps coming back because of me.

"It's alright," he says simply. "I've celebrated most of the occasions with them. It's been a while since I celebrated with you."

I look at him long and hard, and my mind drifts back to the conversation I had with Winter. "Have you told anyone about me?"

The sudden question catches him off guard, and the air between us grows awkward. Sensing the tension, Nina quickly excuses herself to check the laundry, leaving us alone. Sighing deeply, Ivor walks to the living room and takes a seat on the other end of the couch. The television is on, but neither of us really wants to watch.

"Why? Why did you do those things, Blythe?"

I stiffen, but this time, I'm done making excuses for myself. "Because I'm stupid, and I'm mad at the world—just as much as I hated our family and our situation."

Ivor looks taken aback by my answer. "You could've reached out to me, Blythe. I'm always willing to listen."

"I know. That's why I didn't."

He looks confused. "I don't understand, Blythe—"

"Because I know you're the kind of brother who would believe me despite the truth screaming right in front of your face," I say to him without holding back. "What I did was wrong, Ivor. I took your money. Mom and Dad's money. I even stole your car and dropped out of university. I did all that behind your back, and you're still willing to go the extra mile and cover for me. Why?"

"Because we're brothers, and that's what brothers do."

I pause and study his face. I hate it when Winter is always right. Always. Maybe the reason the pain lingers is that I'm applying the wrong medicine.

"I'm sorry," I finally say, the words I thought I could never utter without sounding insincere. "I'm a coward, and I wanted them to notice me. I didn't think about you or your feelings. I thought I was sparing you from being responsible for me. I think I'm also angry with you for treating me like a child who would be forever indebted to you. I hated that house, Ivor. I hated that Dane never treated us like part of his family and that Mom just let him disrespect her. I hated that fake image Dad wanted us to portray, so I retaliated."

It takes a few moments for everything I said to register in Ivor's mind. He doesn't say anything at first, and I can tell he's unsure how to respond after my confession. Instead, he reaches out and pats my back.

"I'm sorry too," he suddenly replies, and I freeze. "I thought if I gave you everything, it would be enough to replace the anger you've been suppressing inside. I'm so sorry, Blythe. I felt it—I felt your anger—but I overlooked it. I kept telling myself it would pass, that you'd grow out of it. That's why we were so shocked when you suddenly did those things. It was a hard slap to all of us."