Page 31 of Maybe
Learn to fly. Fly away.
Dog tired, I heaved a sigh. “How do you like your coffee?”
“With you,bizarrely.” Ezra gave me a proper grin then, the one that still softened my knee bones, even though I was so knackered I was struggling to string sentences together. He helped himself to a seat at my kitchen table. “Even if you are a grumpy sod.Milk and one sugar.”
I reached for an extra mug. “I’ve only got decaff.” A fact making me both smug and disappointed.
“What? Jeez, Isaac, that’s like taking paracetamols for the taste.”
“I’m trying to cut down. And real coffee keeps me awake. There’s always water in the tap.” Though my bed was calling, I slumped opposite him.
“Bad night?” he asked.
I shrugged. “No worse than normal.” Then, because I had no one else to tell who wouldn’t judge me, added, “I failed the surgery exam. Found out a couple of hours ago.”
“Sorry,” he said.
“Yeah. Me too.”
Funnily enough, I felt a fraction better. “At least I’m not at work again tonight. I don’t think I could have survived without punching someone, which would have been an abrupt end to a career that’s still barely off the ground.”
Ezra’s dark gaze examined me over the rim of his mug. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
“No.” I huffed a laugh. “But I’ve never failed anything before. And I’ve got this… this fucking name, haven’t I? That everyone knows. Everywhere I go, it’shi, how’s the career coming along?Your dad would have been so proud. Got that research job yet? So and so can help. I’ll put in a word.”
I swallowed against a humiliating tide of tears. “And I’m supposed to pretend I’m this fucking clever, inspirational, go-getting, great guy, just like my dad was. But you know what, Ez? I’m not. I’m a very ordinary bloke whose father died earlier this year, whose mum is in denial that she’s an alcoholic, with a brother and sister on the other side of the world. I‘m sick to death of being so alone and miserable and so fucking confused about what I am, who I am, and… sorry,” I mumbled, “I’ll shut up. I’m all over the place after a run of nights.”
Ezra’s hug was exactly what I would have expected a hug from Ezra to feel like. Not crushing, not like my ribs were aboutto snap. But surer and more substantial than any hug I’d ever known before. I couldn’t recall being the recipient of a hug like it. It felt right, I realised. He smelt right. It felt like I was loved; it asked nothing from me in return. And I wanted it to last forever, because I never wanted to peel myself out of those arms and face the world again.
“I’m sorry my mum and dad fucked up your life, Ez.” It wasn’t a work of eloquence as far as apologies went, but it was authentic and all I had. I addressed his chest; seemed like Ezra wasn’t in a hurry to let go of the hug either. A spiky few months and ten long years I’d waited for this unhurried exchange of comfort. I’d drag it out as long as I could.
“They haven’t.” he said. Time stretched out into something warm and unspoken. I felt the steady rise and fall of Ezra breathing. “Not anymore. But… thank you.”
A casual hug would have unravelled by now. This one stretched and stretched. “I love you, Ez,” I blurted, with a hot stinging behind my eyes. “I never stopped.”
“Love you too, buddy.” He huffed a laugh. “God knows I’ve tried not to.”
The hug had to end at some point. After all, I had a bed to crash in and he presumably was en route for Covent Garden. Nonetheless, I was disappointed when Ezra’s grip slowly slackened. “It’s only a fucking bullshit exam, Isaac,” he whispered, his mouth still buried deep in my hair. “And they’re only fucking people and… and I’m so sorry for you that our father died.”
“Yeah.”
We parted. I tried to hide my tear-streaked face, but Ezra already had a clean tissue waiting. He was someone’s dad, after all. He pushed me back into my seat, then took up the one opposite.
“Right, it’s time for some home truths.” Ezra cleared his throat. “First of all, Isaac, you’re not alone. You’ve got me. Your older, annoying brother, and I’m back and I’m here to stay. Second, that bullshit the Mustard Michaels of this world spin on you? That our wanker of a father spun on you? Don’t believe any of it, okay? Don’t believe you’re not good enough or that you must live up to somebody else’s fucking expectations of you. Whether you work in the emergency department or on the geriatric wards, the cardiac wards, whether you throw your surgical books in the bin and become a bleeding circus juggler—those are your life choices for you to make and you only. Do what you want with your life, Isaac, not what he wanted for you. Your future is not a fucking football for anyone else to kick around. Nor does your job title make you a punchbag for every manager, boss, patient, or colleague that asks you to stay late or do an extra shift because you have a heart bursting with compassion. Because you think you have to live up to the Fitz-Henry surname and you’re an easy touch.”
“I’m not an easy touch!”
“You are.” He took a gulp of his coffee, wincing. “You always have been, and it’s about time you learned how to tell people to fuck off. Or at least how to politely say no.”
Ezra waggled a finger at me. “Now, you can listen and take note or shove my baseless advice up your arse. It’s up to you. But for what it’s worth, I think someone needed to tell you all that. Seeing as the rest of our family has abrogated responsibility, it’s fallen to yours truly.” He sucked much needed air into his lungs then flashed me a smile. “And here endeth the gospel according to a deadbeat.”
Tipping his head back, he swallowed down the last of his coffee, then stood. “Actually, it’s not quite finished. You stink of that bloody hospital. I’m going to wait here whilst you strip, shower, and then get into bed.”
He pointed in the direction of the bedroom, practically tapping his foot. Yep, the big brother vibe was coming over loud and clear.
“You need to work on your foreplay,” I grumbled, then blushed madly. “That’s obviously not… what… what I mean is…”
“Go on,” he scolded. “I’ll let myself out when I’ve cleaned up the kitchen. And then I’ll come back later and take you out. You need a break.”
