Birds of a Feather

Chapter 13: A Rock and a Hard Place

          Blaise brought him home. He was standing in the door when I came downstairs. Sometimes, well, much of the time, I hated that boy. Blaise, not my brother. Though I often found myself hating him too. Now was one of those times. He looked like a giant standing in the foyer. He dwarfed everyone standing near him. It probably wasn't helped by the fact that Astoria and Tracy, the two shortest people I'd met, were standing closest to him. But even when Blaise was right there next to him, he still dwarfed Blaise somehow. Blaise was far taller than him, but Simón was muscular, strong. That was how he always appeared. Strong, angry, untouchable, unreachable. I didn't truly think of Simón as my brother. He was more like a distant figure clouding some of my memories. He was there when I was little, but he was gone by the time I turned 6. And even when he was there, he wasn't really there for me. The only times I ever saw the human side of him was when he was caring for her. Esme. Sometimes I hated her too. But most of the time, I loved her more than anyone. Blaise didn't really need to get Simón. I would've easily turned my mom and Warren for her. There was no love lost between my mother and I. And I had always hated Warren. Even if I had cared for them, I would have still testified against them for her. 

          But back to Simón. He was now sitting on the dining room table. They were talking to him, but he was looking at me the whole time. "You okay, Mimi?"

          I didn't tell him that that nickname was longer than my name, and that no one called me that. I just sat there. I did come to sit on the other side of the table though. 

           "Mimi?"

          "I don't want to talk," I muttered, crossing my arms. I had nothing left to say to him. I hadn't had anything to say to him for many years. We had talked only twice in the eight years since he had left. It never mattered to me why he left, he still left. So did Odette. And Dhruv had never been there to leave. My mother had left a lot too. She was a little better about staying once Esme was home, but she was still gone far too much. Too much for me to miss her now that she's locked up. And I wished Warren had left. Often, when my mother left, Warren would kick me out and I'd go live with Dhruv and his father. I hated Dhruv's father too. I hated a lot of people. Well, hate is a strong word, I did not really hate people. Hate requires energy. Action. Time. I only disliked people. And I never wasted my time with them. My dislike was passive. Hate is active. 

           They were teaching Simón how to testify. Telling him how to walk and talk. Giving him the pictures and evidence. Going over his stories. His experiences. Mine would be better. Fresher. And there would be more. I was still going to have to testify. Tell my stories. But they wouldn't need to be as numerous and detailed as before. 

          They were arguing. Blaise and Simón. "She's not staying here," Simón said. "Esme was in charge of her,  but Esme's in the hospital and I'm her next of kin. So I'm in charge of her now."

          "No offense, but I don't give a flying fuck who is 'in charge of her', you shouldn't take her away from everyone. She doesn't know you. She does know us."

           "She doesn't really know you either. She doesn't really know any of you. Your Esme's friends, not hers. I'm her brother. I'm the only person fit to take care of her."

          For a second, I just listened. I didn't complain about them clearly talking about me instead of to me. I didn't say that I didn't want to stay with either of them. Not really. And I definitely didn't say that Dhruv's dad had already offered to take me in. Instead, I watched them. The truth was, Blaise and Simón were both right: I didn't really know either of them. I probably knew Dhruv's father better than I knew either of them. And I barely knew him either. I looked between the pair now, trying to see who was winning. Neither of them were. Because they were both talking and never listening. Simón never listened. All Blaise did was listen. That was one of the reasons I hated him. He never did anything. He just sat and listened, sometimes moving his eyebrows the slightest bit. But now, now he was angry. His father and mother were both dead. He just lost a brother I never knew he had, and apparently he had lost other siblings before. It almost pained me to think of how he had lost everything and everyone. Almost. But I was never sympathetic. Or maybe empathetic. I don't know the difference. I never have and probably never will.