Page 19 of Second Story

I lean on him like I used to when his visits were all that got me through each day of holding it together for Len.

He’s just as solid. Just as steady.

“Breathe,” he says, his chest rising under my palm.

I can’t, and this bathroom narrows even further.

“It’s okay, mate. I got you.” His murmurs are so low-pitched they rumble under my fingers. “Guessing you’re here for an interview. Didn’t know teaching was your thing.”

If I could catch my breath, I’d tell him it isn’t. Joe doesn’t need a contribution from me. He keeps chatting. Keeps joking, like I remember.

“I would say we gotta stop meeting like this. Breathe, Isaac. But if I had to see you one last time before I head home for good, better here in Cornwall than in Wintergreen, yeah? Breathe again for me. Look at you still putting Lenny first. You picked a great school to keep taking such good care of him. He’ll love Glynn Harber. You go for it, mate. Get the job for him.”

I can breathe then without prompting. Can drag in enough air that this bathroom expands back to its normal proportions.

Joe remains my sole focus.

“There you go.” He smiles so widely that his eyes crinkle, and it’s too much. Too real, like all his solid bulk under my hand. I drop it quickly and head for the door, where I pause.

“T-thanks. That was...”

A lot. Everything I remember and every single thing I wanted for so much longer.

“No problem. Always wanted to repay that librarian’s favour. But maybe give yourself another few minutes to?—”

I can’t.

I have to hurry to the front door where I’m just in time to hear the end of another story.

The padre reads out the last page of my brother’s favourite book, then stands. He studies me again then, and I’m not sure if what he sees is any better than that smudge of chocolate or windswept hair.

For a second time in only minutes, someone is gentle with me. Is kind, like the very last person I expected to take care of me here. I can’t help looking back for a glimpse of Joe.

It felt so real, like right before he left us.

The padre guides me away from the front door. “Now let’s see if we can find something to keep little Lenny occupied while you’re busy. The courtyard could be the perfect place for that. It’s right outside the library, and we might find… Ah! Ruth?”

He leads us into a grassy area filled with children who look to be about the same age as my brother and who all work at picnic benches covered with craft supplies and stacks of envelopes. “Could you fit a special guest at one of your tables? Maybe one close to the library window so that Lenny here can see his brother while he’s interviewing?”

Considering Lenny almost hurled himself out of my van window only minutes ago, he chooses right now to get clingy. He hides behind my legs when this new teacher approaches. “Hi.” She crouches. “Want to see what we’re doing?”

Lenny crowds closer behind me, and if anyone had told me my heart could still beat while broken, I wouldn’t have believed them until I had to watch my brother crayon thick, black crosses on a calendar with no end date. I’m all he’s got until someone sets Mum free. That means I do my best not to spook him with panic of my own. “We’ll go look together, Len. Come on.”

He’s my shadow at tables where kids draw what they value now and what they hope for in their futures. I spy crayonedfootballs and drum kits, a pair of fairy wings thick with glue and glitter, and a craggy island with a?—

My brother forgets his nerves, his whisper breathless. “Sick castle, bruv.”

He means sick in a good way. Next to scars, castles are his second favourite, and I understand why. I’d have dug a moat around my family and pulled up the drawbridge if I’d had early warning that our home would be invaded as soon as I left for uni.

Now Lenny has Cornish stars in his eyes, and just like that, he’s made a blond-haired friend who tells him, “This castle is on the island my dad is learning to guard. He used to be a soldier.” He straightens up to salute, and Lenny salutes straight back. They share the same gap in their smiles. So does a curly-haired little girl across the table, her grin widening as soon as Lenny’s new friend says, “I’m gonna guard the castle one day when I marry Maisie.” He passes Lenny a sheet of paper. “You can draw what you want to be when you grow up.”

I know what Lenny will sketch.

That teacher, Ruth, joins me, watching as a pencilled cape covers Lenny’s paper. He selects a silver marker, and she murmurs, “Hugo’s gone to the library to let Luke know you’ll be with him when your brother is settled. See?”

She points at a window where I see Luke Lawson in profile, only minus the soft smile that once gave me hope. He frowns, and I look away in a hurry, while Ruth rubs the swell of a belly it takes me way too long to realise means she’s pregnant, and I’m staring.

“You can relax,” she insists, although she guesses wrongly about the cause of my nerves. “I’m not about to pop at any moment. I’ll take good care of your baby, I promise.”

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