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14: Peace Offering

                14: Peace Offering 

        “I have to tell you something. . .” In the past, the six words have preluded to things I would have much rather preferred to not have heard in the first place, and when Byron says this, sharing pizza between the two of us, I gulp. Graham is in the kitchen, sorting out beverages for the three of us, and I doubt if now is an appropriate time to tell me anything. 

        “. . . I think we should break up.” 

        “. . . I’m leaving Byron.” 

        “. . . you have another brother.” 

        I can sense a common pattern here, and it’s not something I like reminding myself of. Byron tenses in his seat, and I hear him exhale a deep breath. I want to turn around and tell him that everything is okay, he doesn’t have to say anything and we can just continue on this path of being ignorant because not-knowing is always better. I roll my lips into my mouth, staring down at the slices of pizza which no longer look appetising.  

        “I got a message from Freya.” 

        “Holy shit.” Graham says, standing in the doorframe to the kitchen, blinking at Byron sitting down, as though he no longer recognises the person he’s supposed to call his best friend, and I don’t recognise him either. My brother wouldn’t have kept the number of the psycho bitch who ruined his life, left him with night-terrors and wants to come back into his life.  

        “Get away from me,” he continues, looking absolutely betrayed. I feel the same because Byron having contact with Freya isn’t a simple case of getting back in touch with an ex, this takes us back two years, as though Byron hasn’t gotten better and gotten his independence back. This means everything has been for nothing, and I hate that some good-for-nothing hussy still has this total control over my brother. 

        “Graham,” Byron pleads, but he isn’t having any of it. Graham is extremely stubborn, and utterly devoted to Byron in the sense that he would do anything for his best friend, but the line is drawn when it comes to Freya, as it always has done. “Kasia,” he turns to me, “say something!” 

        “I don’t know what you want me to say,” my tongue feels heavy in my mouth, it becoming difficult to form words. I think the silence would have had a better effect. I’m not sure if there are even words for stuff like this, a guide for conversation starters when things like this happen. Byron sighs heavily, rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, and I turn away from him. “What did you talk about?” 

        Graham scratches his head, turning back to the kitchen and slamming the door behind him. Byron watches him leave dejectedly then lets out a deep breath. “She wants help,” he tells me finally, peeling the salami from the pizza and piling it up on his plate. “She said she’s desperate.” 

        “Julian.” I fill in the gaps he’s leaving, able to guess for myself what their conversation entailed which is what it always has been. Her crying for help, him offering it in bucket loads and then her leaving him again. It’s a relationship where Byron gives her his all, to get nothing in return, knowing that the moment that her ex came back in the scene with an apology he didn’t even mean, she’d leave him again. And even after two years, where the name Freya became a taboo, and everyone was willing to offer their support in helping Byron get better, where a relationship with another girl was being contemplated, we’re back to square one.  

        “What did you say to her?” 

        “It’s not the same. I can’t help her.”