Michael doesn't flinch. 'You can't know,' he says quietly, 'how much you truly love something until it's gone.' 'That's not fair,' I say as I tremble. 'No one said it would be. He tests you, Benji, and he tests Calliel for a supremely simple reason. You are tested because if you aren't, how could you know what you believe in?'
And I wished I could believe him. I wished with all that I had. And when you're eleven, you're on the cusp between still believing wishing worked if you wanted something hard enough and understanding the world is teeth and sharp edges. I wished. I did. I promise you with all that I have that I did. But I knew the teeth. The sharp edges. And they were bigger than wishing. I was only eleven, but I was the product of my upbringing too. Maybe that's why I was able to be the one to leave. Maybe I'd been looking for a reason and latched on to the first one that came, no matter how hard it was. If there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's that it's easier to leave someone before they leave you. Because eventually, everyone leaves. It's inevitable.
It was as if God himself saw that my intention was to make my outer self match my inner fabulosity and didn't think the world could handle such an explosion of amazingness. So instead of letting me get to the gym where I would have transformed myself into a walking sex god, he created a Dunkin' Donuts out of nothing and then gave them away for free. I didn't make it to the gym. I had a bear claw instead. And a maple bar. And some donut holes. And then some more donut holes.
...Ty grabbed my phone and threatened to tell Otter that I liked being spanked during sex.This proceeded to lead up on a long tangent where I had to have him explain to me how he knows about stuff like people getting spanked during sex. H said he might have heard it mentioned while watching MSNBC. I told him he was grounded from watching the news channels for a week. That's where this whole sidebar should have ended, but then I was forced to explain S & M and bondage to my little brother, who was persistent on the topic, and who kept staring at me with mounting horror when I finally /did/ explain, and I realized I had maybe gone too far, and we had to spend the next five minutes swearing to God that I had never nor would I ever attempt to do anything like that. He might now be the only nine-year-old who has heard the terms "cock ring" and "fisting". My parenting skills are unparalleled.
Creed scowls. "Hardly. All he does now is mope like a goddamn teenage girl. Anytime I'm home, he's in his room with the door locked. I'm telling you guys, he got worked over really bad in San Diego. I thought the whole point of having a gay brother was that they were supposed to be all cool and shit. I got a defective gay.
He hesitates, then says, "You don't think Otter... gets offended by what I say?" He begins to speak faster. "I mean, I don't care who Otter sleeps with. I don't care that he's a fa- gay. I don't care that he's gay. Why would I ?" He grins thinly. "He's my brother. You don't turn away from someone like him just because he likes sick instead if the good stuff.
So while I drove my little and planned his fantasy night of how I was going to give Otter the key to my soul (his words, not mine), I silently panicked and wrote lines of bad poetry. Normally, I am quite adept at writing poems and lyrics to songs I'l never sing, but this stuff was just atrocious. For example:I love youYou love meThank God for thatI'm so happyAnd Ty's personal favorite (which he helped me on): Otter! Otter! Otter!Don't lead cows to slaughterI love you and I knowI should've told you soon-aBut you didn't buy the dolphin-safe tuna!TY asked me if I got the hidden message in his poem. I told him it was loud and clear.
I watched the black ocean in his eyes and saw this flash behind them and understood what he had meant the night before, about the insanity that had gripped him. He was not so far gone as to be lost, but he was close, and I knew it had come from me turning my back on him as I had started to flee. Whether I wanted to or not, I anchored him to this world, and I was the only thing he'd known, maybe for his whole life. He had watched me, yes, he had stalked me, oh yes, but it had driven him to the edge. I inhaled sharply at the wildness I saw in him, the despair that was threatening to rise.
The big kid hasn't said anything yet. 'I do like hearing myself talk,' I say, 'only because I have a lot of neat things to say, but eventually the conversation will run out in, like, four or five years, and then where will we be?' Wonder of all wonders, he cracks a little smile. I don't blame him. I am pretty funny.