Fix My Feet When They're Stumblin'

Chapter 71

     Just before Brandon followed Ronnie into the kitchen, the bearded drummer stopped in the hallway and wiggled a crutch to catch his attention.

     "Hey, B - do you want me to have a chat with Tana and tell her about...about your problem with food? I've never told her anything you've told me, but...I mean, I think she needs to know. She's been worried that you're not eating enough. Or do you think you can tell her yourself, if you don't want me to do it?"

     Brandon sighed, leaning against the wall to examine the wallpaper and listen to the pounding of his own rapid, fluttering heartbeat. I don't want to make her sad again. He raised his eyes to his friend's face and studied him instead as he waited patiently for an answer.

     "Do we...d-do we have to tell her? She'll be - she'll be s-sad, Ron," he pleaded, wincing at the rise of something uncomfortably like pity in his face and dropping his gaze again.

     "I know, but I think she needs to know, B," Ronnie said softly, his voice firm but gentle. "I'm sorry. But I just think...she should know. I'll tell her for you, if you need me to."

     Brandon closed his stinging eyes and ran his hand along the wallpaper behind him, feeling the slightly bumpy texture in hopes that it might ground him. I can't.

     "It's okay, Brandon. I got you, 'k?"

     No. It's not okay. Not even a little bit. Brandon squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, rubbing his face wearily and then crossing his arm across his chest in an attempt to hug himself and control his shallow breaths.

     "Bran."

     There was something so tender in his friend's voice, something that brought a lump to his throat and made his racing, nervous heart begin to slow.

     "Hey, Bran," he heard Ronnie whisper again, a little closer now. "It's gonna be okay. She won't be mad at you or anything, you know. I think...honestly, I really think it will make her feel a little better, after...after the shock."

     The drummer's voice lost all volume suddenly, and he cleared his throat roughly.

     "I think she's been worried about you, B. I think...I really do think telling her this will help. It helps me, at least. It's a puzzle piece that's been missing, you know? It's been weeks, she's noticed you've started losing a bit of weight and - and Tana, she doesn't know why. She's kinda...in the dark right now, a little bit. About a lot of things."

     Brandon winced at the soft pointedness in his friend's words, a dim echo of an earlier conversation rolling around in his head. 'You've got to to tell Tana.'

     "No. I...I can't."

     He hadn't even realized he'd spoken out loud until something touched his cheek, forcing him to open his eyes in surprise. Ronnie stood before him, teetering unsteadily on a single crutch as he fumbled to replace the second one safely beneath his arm. When he regained his balance, he huffed in relief and looked back up at Brandon.

     "I know. I get that it's hard for you. And - and thank you for telling me, at least, B. I mean it. Thank you. It...it means the world to me that you trust me, little brother. I promise I won't tell her anything else you've told me. I swear. I told you I wouldn't, if you don't want me to. It's not my place.

     "But...if it's okay with you, I'd like to just tell her about this - about why you can't eat much anymore. Since you can't tell her yourself. If...if you really don't want me to, I won't. But I think it will help. Is it - is that okay with you? Can I tell her that for you?"