Page 4 of Hard to Judge

“It’s not a big deal.” I wave them off and flip carefully through the worn pages. They caress my fingertips and offer a bit of comfort.

“I’ve never known you to be shy.” Arlo’s sleeves are still rolled up from his work in the kitchen. When he crosses his arms, they bulge, revealing more of his sinew and the architecture of his veins. “Especially when you excel at something.”

“I’m getting humble in my old age.” I shrug.

“Old age?” Hailey scoffs. “You’re thirty-two. This has nothing to do with age or humility.”

“When Hailey asked if you have six gold medals, you said you earned six gold medals.” Arlo’s head tilts in that tabulating way.

I know he’ll get to the outcome sooner than I’d like. Still, I stay silent, hoping someone will holler from the living room, telling us to stop eating Hailey out so we can get to the presents. I wish we had her spread across the desk only a few feet away with her legs splayed wide and her pussy drenching our faces.

“Where are your medals, Hota?” Arlo’s voice is thin, brittle. He needs to know, but is scared at the same time.

So much of our relationship is like that. It’s been like that since he came back after the holiday at his uncle’s house.

Distant but engaged. Wanting yet terrified.

For both our parts.

“Probably melted down and sold many times over at this point.” I close the book, press it into my grip, and meet two disappointed gazes.

“Were you proud of your accomplishments?” It’s Hailey’s turn to whisper.

“Yes.” But not as proud as I would have been if Arlo had been there.

“Then…” Hailey shakes her head as though trying to make the pieces settle into place.

“I was more desperate to eat than I was to look at the symbols of my triumph.” I finally spew my truth.

The shock of my words sucks the air from the immediate area. All of us go silent for several painful heartbeats.

“Hota.” Arlo steps forward. His hands lift toward me.

Mine go up in defense with the book as an added layer of protection. I can’t handle his sympathy right now. If he touches me, I’ll lose my shit. This is hardly the time or place. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

He stops, and his shoulders droop. “You had a full wrestling scholarship to Oklahoma State. The most prestigious wrestling school in the history of the sport.”

“I did.”

“You’re one of the smartest people I know.” Arlo scrubs a hand over his jaw. “You were making money hand over fist at fifteen.”

“I was.”

His chin comes up. “Please.”

I’m always the one begging, and he’s always the one handing down orders. Right now, though, he begs. It’s in his eyes. It’s in the set of his shoulders. It’s in his whittled voice.

“During our last year at Willoughby Ridge, my father disowned me.” My hands fall to my sides, and I straighten my spine. “He’d disowned me long before that, but that’s when he withdrew his financial support. I used all the money I’d saved to get through the rest of the school year.”

“That’s why you chose to go to OSU.” Arlo’s mouth hangs open in a way I haven't seen before.

“It wasn’t a choice. A choice means options.” My throat burns. “Harvard would only pay academic, not room and board. I couldn’t afford the difference. I could hardly afford school breaks and summers.”

“You didn’t go for…Nate.” He says it in this awed voice as though he can’t believe it.

After all this time, after all these years, how doesn’t he know that I always choose him?

“He always chooses you.” Hailey steals my words, ones I’ve kept locked inside for years, ones that should be plain to see, and spells them out for Arlo.

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