Page 60 of Her Goal
I confess, “I gave up after he stopped answering my calls and texts.”
“He sold his phone. Probably stopped paying the bill. Lost the number.”
I don’t know all the details, but it sounds like Hunter went down a dark path.
“He’d stay out all night and sleep all day. Then the random derelict band members he called friends made themselves at home in my condo. Ate my food. Burned a hole in my couch. Someone spray-painted the bathroom mirror.”
“Whoa.”
“Said they were song lyrics. I kicked them out. Let him stay. Made him promise to get it together. When I was traded to Miami, I had to have the condo entirely redone. But he came along. I was hopeful the sunnier skies would help. Things were okay for a minute. Then he robbed me. Took everything valuable—not that I had much beyond basic household items like cutlery from Bed, Bath & Beyond. But still. Haven’t seen him since.”
I’m quiet for a beat because I wasn’t expecting to hear this either. Although twins, the brothers were always separate entities.
Hudson had hockey, Hunter had a new hobby every month.
Hudson was a good student, but Hunter begged to copy my homework.
Hudson’s dark, thick hair was and still is stylishly tousled and Hunter spent hours spiking his to pointy perfection with gel. Wait. Why am I thinking about Hudson’s hair?
He says, “I’ve never told anyone that.”
I try to think about Hunter’s positive qualities. “He was a good listener.”
Hudson arches an eyebrow. “If his hoodie was up, he was listening to music.”
“That’s true.”
“He used to try to play the guitar with his eyes closed.”
“Never mind nails on a chalkboard. More like a mosquito in the ear. It was the worst.”
I chuckle. “It really was. And those paintings.”
“They were like the scribblings of a child.”
“Yet we encouraged him,” I say with a mite of guilt.
“Lest we risk a full-on meltdown.”
“It’s like he was always on the outside looking in.”
Hudson nods. “Yeah. Never thought about it like that. I think he showed us two different versions of himself. You got Dr. Jekyll. I got Mr. Hyde.”
I open and close my mouth, unsure what to say because Hudson is speaking truth to all of the things that I’ve never been able to. I was afraid that if I let myself think poorly of Hunter, that would explain why he never wanted to move from friendship to more and that would point too starkly at my own supposed deficiencies.
The distinction in this conversation is that Hudson is not trashing his brother. There’s affection in his tone—a kind of brotherly love.
I say, “This conversation should be weird.”
Hudson’s eyes float to mine, devastatingly dark but inviting like he’ll tell me his secrets if I ask. Whereas Hunter’s eyes were sly like he’d take his to the grave.
Softly, I confess, “Looking back, I didn’t realize it then, but it was like if I could just make him like me enough, he’d see that he was better than he let himself believe?—”
“Or maybe you were just attracted to the bad boy.”
“Rather than the boy next door.” I belatedly realize how that sounds.
He shakes his head slowly. “Leah, we all did what we could. Maybe except for my mother. She was in her own world. I don’t understand what went wrong or why he made the choices he did. I may never. But I’ll always love him.”
