Page 34 of Digging Deeper

“It’s true,” I say. “I always did the best I could to protect you.”

“Well, you did a shit job, then. Leaving me alone with Mom wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for me. And don’t you dare—”

“I’m not,” I cut him off quickly. “Mom was horrible to you. You knew it, I knew it, Dad knew it.” His eyes jerk up to me. Sighing, I resign myself to telling him the truth. There is no one else to do it, so… “It was bad for me, too.”

“No, it wasn’t. Although, if you hadn’t left me out there flapping in the wind on my own and admitted to Mom that you’re obviously into guys in some fashion, too—if how your eyes devour Gavin is any indication—then maybe it wouldn’t have been as bad for me.”

“Dad told me not to.”

Fresh tears well up in the corners of his eyes. God, this sucks. “Why?” he whispers. “Dad was good to me in his own way. He didn’t stick up for me, but he’d hang out with me a little and talk to me. Did he hate me, too?”

“Jesus, Holden! No one ever hated you.” I swipe my hand back over my head. My hair is a little longer than it’s been in years. I have to fight the urge to yank on it in frustration. Holds doesn’t respond in words. He drops his head and his body begins jerking as it shakes with deep, belly-wrenching, sobs. “Holden, this was Mom’s story to tell, and I… I was hoping that since she never did, once they died we could just forget it. I guess I wanted to believe that as much as it sucked we were left on our own so young, at least now we could go back to being brothers, best friends, now that we didn’t have Mom getting in our way. But then you left and never came back.”

His head jerks back up and there’s fire blazing in those blue eyes, ones that are identical to my own. “Don’t you dare blame this on me.”

I swallow down the lump in my throat. “I’m not.” But haven’t I? All these years, haven’t I blamed him for not returning home to me? Never once considering that this place isn’t home to him, but haunted with verbal and emotional abuse? Clearing my throat, I speak firmly, “I’m not. I should’ve told you. Maybe not as soon as they died, but eventually. But you never wanted to talk about them, so I thought letting it go was best for us, for our relationship.” I take a deep breath before plunging on. “Mom didn’t hate you, Holds. She didn’t want to lose you.”

“What are you talking about?” he snaps. “She’d been mean to me since we were young.”

“I don’t know how to say this. And before you get mad that Mom told me something she didn’t tell you, don’t be. She never knew that Dad told me this.” His eyes narrow, so I continue quickly, “And don’t be angry at Dad, either. He… he wanted to tell you, but he wanted to wait until you were older. He didn’t want you to change yourself based on Mom’s fears. He wanted you to be who you were. He was so proud of you.”

Confusion settles on his face, but he doesn’t speak, so I continue, “You know Dad’s parents died when we were young, and he was an only child, but… Well, Mom’s parents, I’m not sure when they died. God, I’m not even sure they’re dead.”

“What are you talking about? After Grandma and Grandpa died, they said we didn’t have any more family.”

“They lied. Mom was estranged from hers. And she had more than just her parents, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with them.”

“But why?”

Taking a deep breath, I tell him the story that was never mine to tell. “Because her parents kicked out her brother when he came out at seventeen, and he was killed a few weeks later.” Holds gasps. “It was a hate crime, Holds.” He raises his hand to cover his mouth, eyes wide in his face that’s now gone completely white. “From what Dad said, Mom adored her brother, and she supported him. She just wanted him to be happy. She was a little younger than him, but it was her big brother and she… No one cared that she pleaded for them to let him come home until he left for college. To at least let him back in the house until he found somewhere else to live. He was jumped walking down a street late one night a few weeks after they kicked him out. Someone wrote… it doesn’t matter what they wrote on his head, but it was enough to know that he died for being gay.”

Holds shakes his head. “But if Mom supported him, then why was she so horrible to me?” His voice is small, sad.

“Dad said that Mom was scared. He said that when we were really small she adored you. You reminded her so much of her big brother, but the older you got, the more she was scared she was going to lose you. Dad told her that she was losing you already, and she said she didn’t care. If she could make you change, be less like her brother, then at least you’d be alive and she’d deal with you hating her.”

“I don’t… But what happened with her family? I don’t get it.”

“After her brother’s funeral, she heard an uncle talking about that’s what queers got for being unnatural. Her own parents agreed. Dad said she bided her time to graduation and then left. She went to college and never went back. She cut them off completely as soon as she met Dad.”

“Holy shit, Drix.” My poor, sweet brother slumps back into the chair. The complex swirl of emotions in his eyes the only indicator to his thoughts. The rest of his face is blank, expressionless. “Why did Dad tell you and not me?” he finally asks.

I clear my throat. “Holds, I knew how awful Mom was to you, and I’m so sorry it seemed like I didn’t care. But when I tried to stick up for you, or if I contradicted her, she was meaner. Not to me, but to you. I would talk to Dad about it. He said he knew it was illogical, but that she… He thought she was doing the best she could. But when he said too much she’d break down and say he didn’t understand what it was like to lose someone like that. She really thought she was protecting you from the world.”

“But Drix, she broke me,” he whispers, fresh tears pouring down his face.

“I know, lil’ bro. And I’m so sorry I didn’t do more. That I didn’t try to stop it. I just did the only thing I thought I could at the time.” Tears are streaming down my face now, too. I want to go to him and hold him. Somehow take away all the pain he endured. After I compose myself, I say, “Dad told me to do whatever it was Mom wanted to take pressure off of you. He thought maybe... maybe if she didn’t have to worry about both of us, she’d ease up on you. So I threw myself into everything: sports, clubs, partying. Whatever I could to try to make Mom chill. Then, when I figured out I thought Georgie was hot.” The first sign of anything but sadness returns to my brother’s face when he wrinkles his nose. “What? He had a nice ass.”

“Oh my god, you really are obsessed,” he teases in a weak, scratchy voice.

I shrug, happy to feel like we’re back on semi-normal ground. “Anyways, lil’ bro,” I say, trying to lighten the heaviness. “I went to Dad and he was worried Mom would get worse.”

“Blame me for you liking boys, probably.”

“That’s what Dad was worried about,” I answer honestly.

“Drix?” His voice is small and unsure again.

“Yeah, Holds?” I ask.

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