Relatively Dependent

Relatively Dependent - Part Nineteen

Even though it was Blake's first night back at work in a week, he still came home for me. Again, I didn't have to ask him, I never had to ask for his help, when he heard me crying on the phone he didn't ask Charlie if he could leave, he just left. He came straight home, only took him about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes to appear in my bedroom after I'd sat my phone aside. He didn't say a lot that night, just hugged me and told me everything would be okay. I don't think he knew what to say.

The next morning I woke up feeling mortified, crying to Blake on the phone about something that happened years ago, something I didn't wanna' think about let alone talk about. I'd made him run out of work on his first night back just so he could spend yet another night consoling me like a baby. Still embarrassing just thinking about it all. That whole week was just... It's like it wasn't even me.

I knew I had to pull it together, I couldn't have Blake running home from work every night like that. The fact that he felt like he needed to do that for me was like a wake up call that I needed to get a grip. So, for the next thirty seconds or so, that's exactly what I did.

I jumped out of the bed I'd been hiding in all week and grabbed a clean set of clothes out of my wardrobe. I decided I'd shower, eat, brush my teeth and I'd see what Jamie was up to for the day. I wasn't going to lie in bed for another second, I wasn't going to devote anymore of my brain power to that awful memory of that sick bastard.

I stepped out of my bedroom for what felt like the first time in months and I was ready to get on with life. But, like I said, that all lasted about thirty seconds.

"Hey, hey bud," Blake said as he sat a plate of half eaten toast on the coffee table. "Come here," he waved me over.

My cheeks started to burn from the embarrassment over the way I'd been behaving. I'd woken up in such a good headspace that I was mortified over the blubbering mess of a person I'd been that week.

"I was just gunna' hit the shower," I said as I jerked a thumb at the bathroom.

"Can you give me a minute?" He asked.

I didn't want to, I could see it in his face he wanted to talk about everything and I'd already decided to push all that shit aside. But, I couldn't say no, he'd done too much for me, I couldn't turn around and start acting like a prick again. I gave him a nod and joined him on the couch.

"Look, um," Blake turned to me and drew in a deep breath. "I think we uh," he waved his hand like he was stuck for the right words. "All that stuff," he sighed and shook his head. "Um," he turned back to me, "it's not easy, for me," his voice started to shake, "talking about what happened." He paused and drew in a ragged breath.

"We don't have to talk about it," I said.

"No," he folded a hand over his chin and rubbed at the stubble. "No, I think that, maybe we do," he said.

It sounded like it was a struggle for him to even talk about talking about it.

"But, it's hard for me," he sniffed and his eyes glossed over with tears. "I feel like I've let you down."

"What?" I breathed.

He was talking crazy, he was the one person in my life that had never let me down.

"If I'd gotten you out of there sooner," he sniffed and gave his nose a wipe, "if I'd done things differently..."

"Blake," I sighed.

"I let you down Bud, and it's a really hard thing to live with."

I didn't know what to say. Seeing my brother with tears rolling down his cheeks was a shock. The look on his face, those words he said, I'll never forget it.

"But," he gave his cheeks a wipe, "just because it's hard for me to talk about, doesn't mean we shouldn't," he said as he turned back to me.

I swallowed hard, "Blake, I don't blame you," I said.

He gave me a weak smile and gripped my knee, "I know you don't Bud, but that doesn't mean I didn't screw up. Because I did, letting that happen to you," he shook his head, "I fucked up so badly," he turned away but I saw the tears fall from his grasp. "But," he drew in a deep breath, "it's not about me, so," he turned back to me, "I'm here, okay? And we should talk about it, you know? I think we need to."

I nodded along and stared blankly at the piece of buttered toast sitting on the coffee table. Hearing Blake blame himself for something someone else did to me, when we were both just kids, it was crippling to hear. I can't even count the amount of times Blake had put himself in harm's way to keep me safe. I don't want to think how many punches he took, how many meals he went without, and all of the sacrifices he made for me. I'm the one that should've felt guilty, not him.

"When you're ready," Blake gave my knee a shake, "we'll talk, okay?"

I drew in a ragged breath and gave him a nod. He sat there with his hand on my knee and this painfully forced smile on his face as he waited for me to start. I lowered my gaze to my knee and studied the frayed hole in my jeans. I felt completely overwhelmed with sadness hearing Blake blame himself for the shit Mum had put us through. How could I sit there and talk about the worst thing that ever happened to me when my brother thought it was all his fault? I couldn't.

Even though we both wanted to talk about everything, neither of us knew what to say or how to say it. So, we just sat there in complete and total silence.