Page 45 of Back in the Country
I don’twantmy brother to be okay; Ineedhim to be okay. The magnitude of the situation is suffocating, and it’s as if I’m alone despite being surrounded by my family. It makes me feel empty, and I often wonder if Sorren feels the same.
Usually, my music preference is upbeat and catchy, but right now the song by Jack’s Mannequin about being alone in a crowded room plays nonstop in my head. It is starting to be a problem.
Aside from his first physical therapy appointment, which he’d allowed me to attend with him—allowed being a loose term—there has been no more insight into his recovery. I’ve watched him do his required exercises within the four light-blue walls of the space, all with an emotionless mask on his face.
With the exception of a grunt or the clenching of his jaw, Sorren appears completely unfazed by the strenuous activity. It hurts that even in that environment he can’t trust me with how he is truly feeling. Hours later, it is all I can think about.
My phone buzzes, and I look to find three missed texts from Waylon.How had I missed those?
WAYLON:Hey are you on your way over?
WAYLON:It’s a little after 8 just let me know what’s going on
WAYLON:You can’t shut me out like this again—I need you too.
Shit.
The messages had all been from last night, and he hadn’t texted me this morning. Vague plans of watching a movie together flit though my brain. This is the second time I’ve been so wrapped up in my brother that I’ve bailed on Waylon—and Sorren has only been home a few days. My stomach sinks as I type out a quick text.
MARLEE:I’m so sorry I forgot. I’ve just been stressed.
WAYLON:I get it but you couldn’t be bothered to respond?
MARLEE:I’m sorry.
WAYLON:Okay.
There is absolutely nothing “okay”about it. The weight of another person’s disappointment in me is almost too much to bear as I cradle my head in my hands at the table.
Sorren eyes me over the top of his coffee cup as I get up and start to pace around our grandparents’ kitchen—our kitchen now. I haven’t gone back to Waylon’s, obviously.
“Are you going to be like this all day again?” His tone is even, but his eyes are harder than they’ve ever been when he’s looked at me. I slump down into the chair across from him.
“I thought maybe you’d like to do something today,” I say, swallowing my guilt over ignoring my boyfriend.
His green eyes fall shut as he places his cup on the table. The green has always been a few shades darker than mine, but now the color holds none of the warmth I crave.
“If I want to go out, I will go. You don’t need to be here. I amfine.”
“I just thought—”
He shoves back from the table with more force than necessary, causing the chair to make a loud scraping sound across the floor.
”Marlee, you’re making me crazy.”
“I’m sorry that I’m making you uncomfortable; I’m just trying to help. I want to help, Sorren. You’ve taken care of me my whole life.” My gaze is pleading as I look down at his leg before returning to his eyes. They’re flat and more than a little angry.
“That’s my job, Marlee. You’re my whole world. You’re hovering. Iwasinjured but I’m fine. There’s nothing I can’t do. If I need your help, I’ll ask.”
He’s lying. He’s not okay. Not by a long shot. I can see the wince he’s holding back in the way the corner of his eye twitches and the slight clench of his jaw.
But he doesn’t want me, and that hurts more than I ever imagined.
I stand and try my best to suppress the tears. My heart aches with his rejection. He’s all I have left, and he won’t let me help.
“Marlee.”
“It’s fine. I’ll be in my room or something.”
