Page 12 of Love is Angry

In that sense, I can’t help but to agree with her. “Let me see if I can do something.”

I walk over to the door and go out into the hallway for a one-on-one with Steve. He’s the size of a dresser and appears to lack the delicacy required to physically handle someone as fragile as my paralyzed-from-the-waist-down sister. “Hey, dude.”

“Hey, yourself. Let me in.” He tries to bulldoze past me, but, though he might be wider, I am taller and equipped with enough anger chronically flowing through my veins that he doesn’t stand a chance.

Politely, I block him, and he gives me a nasty look.

“Laura would appreciate some time alone with her brother,” I say, trying to smile. “Surely, you understand.”

“I’m supposed to look after her.”

He seems displeased, not that I can blame him. I know what a difficult employer my father is. But it’s not his emotional comfort I’m worried about. Laura takes precedence over everything and everybody else.

I offer Steve a shrug. “I can look after her while she’s with me, Steve. We both know that. Just text Dad, tell him she’s okay, and find yourself a motel or a hotel for the night. I can recommend a couple just down the road from here.” I take some cash out of my wallet and shove it in his jacket pocket. “Get a bottle of wine, chill out. I’ll take it from here, and Laura will meet you later tomorrow when she’s ready to head back to Rochester. How does that sound?”

Steve thinks about it for a moment, then tries to give me the money back. “You know I’ve got Mr. Echeveria breathing down my back. That’s not gonna happen.”

“I insist.” My tone tells him of repercussions he knows are worse than anything my father would do to him. “Steve, we both know you’re leaving my sister alone for the night. She’s with me, and she’s safe. Should Mr. Echeveria give you a scowl about this, feel free to blame me. There’s only so much he can do, anyway. Laura deserves a night off. From you, from her life, from everybody. Don’t you agree?”

He sighs deeply. “She’s just a kid.”

“Right.”

“I do my best to stay out of her hair, believe me,” Steve says. “But Mr. Echeveria won’t let her out of his sight, you know that.”

I nod once. “Don’t worry. If he gives you a hard time, I’ll cover for you. I promise.”

“Okay.” He seems doubtful.

“I’ve got this, Steve.”

“Okay. I’ll see you both tomorrow. But if there’s anything, anything at all, you’ll call. Right?”

He gives me a hopeful look, and for the briefest of moments, I spot a glimpse of fear in his eyes. He’s afraid of Dad. Not in a professional kind of way, either. In a most genuine, most human kind of way. Julian Echeveria scares the shit out of Steve, who looks big and buff enough to wrestle a fucking train.

I pat him on the shoulder and smile. “You betcha.”

Once he’s gone, I walk back into the apartment and lock the door behind me. To my surprise, Laura has already set up my coffee machine for me. Then again, it’s a Keurig, not exactly rocket science. She lights up like the sun when she sees Steve isn’t with me.

“You did it!”

I laugh. “Didn’t take much. Now, you threatened me with dinner, then breakfast and brunch tomorrow. How are we going to do any of that if I’m not even fully unpacked, huh?”

Again, she smiles, and I’m reminded of how joyful and loving of life and fun Laura has always been. I’m reminded how wrong the whole suicide attempt felt. What was the point? Laura never had even a hint of depression, let alone any suicidal or self-harming tendencies. Eight months later, and I’m still baffled by how she chose to try to end her life. Dad was there. He never talks about it, though. I only know what he told the police when they got called to the mansion. I read his statement, but that was it.

I look at Laura now, and the pieces just don’t make sense when I put them together. But that’s the thing with depression, isn’t it? On the outside, everything might look okay – everything might even look like happiness. On the inside, though, on the inside, there’s only devastation.

Laura is still the most vibrant and most colorful creature in the kingdom of Earth. She is sweet and kind and selfless. She was all of those things while she was hurting, too. And so, as angry as I am at my father, and as much as I might not think that strapping a barrel-sized babysitter to Laura is the best decision, I know that he’s just being protective.

“How’s the regression therapy going?” I ask once we’re settled at the dinner table. I had tacos and Chinese food delivered. Everything is sprawled out in delivery boxes, complete with a bottle of white and a six-pack of fizzy lemonades for Laura. I’m not her favorite brother because I won’t let her drink alcohol but considering the medication she has to take until another psychiatric evaluation in three months, I’m the only brother she’s got, anyway.

“It isn’t going anywhere,” my sister replies while digging through a Kung Pao box with her chopsticks. Her brow furrows.“And not for lack of trying. Doc says I’m so deeply traumatized by my own spur-of-the-moment decision to end my life that my brain just blocked the entire moment out.”

“We could try another specialist.” I’m not particularly hungry, either, but we both need to eat. I could certainly use something significantly stiffer than the wine. Unfortunately, we can’t have everything we want. Seeing Madison with my father a year ago sort of taught me that, albeit the hard way. “I could make a few phone calls.”

“What’s the point?” Laura replies. “Like, really, what’s the point?”

“The point is to understand exactly what happened that day.”

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