Page 97 of Tall, Royal and Grumpy

The twisted look on my older brother’s face was new and confusing. Maybe regret, maybe sadness, maybe unease, maybe grief. Maybe a combination of all four. But it had the same effect as when I’d seen him dressed so casually for the scavenger hunt. It made me really see him, the tired look in his eyes and the years he’d aged. And it did that same tight thing in my chest again.

“Esmeralda…” He shifted on his feet. “Can we…can we talk?” His eyes bore into mine. “Please.”

* * *

I couldn’t recall agreeing to Kareem’s request to talk. I barely remembered leading him to my room afterwards. But that’s exactly where we were. Sitting on either end of the velvet chaise between the window and balcony doors, facing my neatly made bed.

In silence. Awkward fucking silence for the last five minutes.

It was torture of the worst kind, waiting for Kareem to say something while I stared at my lap and twiddled my thumbs. I was struggling to control the nervous bounce of my leg as anxiety spun through me, tearing apart my insides with brutal force. It was making me sick to my stomach.

“I’m sorry.”

The room turned more silent than death itself. All the buzzing background noise, the soft rustle of our clothes, every single breath just stopped. And then there was nothing but my own heart going thump, thump, thump in my ears—the only sound or movement that proved I was still living and what I’d heard had actually been real.

Kareem had apologised. To me?

I numbly revolved my head in the direction of my older brother, bracing myself to catch his gaze. But I found him frowning down at the space between his slightly spread legs, his forearms braced loosely on his thighs. His whole posture looked tired and uncertain.

Kareem sighed heavily then scrubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry doesn’t even cut it. But I don’t know what else to say. I’ve ruined so much so badly.”

The chaise seemed to wobble underneath me, and I clung onto the edge of the seat cushion for dear life. Was I hearing him correctly? Was this really happening?

A bleak look hollowed his face. “Do you…do you really believe I hate you enough to harm you?”

I dropped my head, unable to look at him, and winced. Unable to answer him.

I hated that he remembered I’d said that. It was a worry that came from a lonely, hurt place in my mind that I had never wanted anyone to know about. It was a dark side of my thoughts that battered and bruised me more than Kareem’s words and actions themselves had. And I hated the power they had over me when my emotions were wound up so tight. But they were there, and sometimes they were so loud and destructive no matter how hard I tried to silence them.

I had thought Kareem hated me enough to hurt me. I wasn’t sure if I didn’t anymore.

“Esmeralda,” he croaked, and the back of my nose began to sting with guilt and sadness. “I wouldn’t.” His voice cracked. “I would never—I couldn’t do that.”

“But you do. You hate me, Kareem,” I whispered to my lap, my voice thick and watery.

He didn’t reply. But that was more of a truthful answer than any words could have given me.

The sting in my eyes turned liquid and hot as pain filled the cracks in my heart. I clamped my eyes shut, trying to hold it all in, but no amount of tensing stopped my body from trembling.

“I don’t hate you, Esmeralda.”

For some reason, his earnest whisper only made my chest squeeze tighter. The dampness slipped between the fan of my lashes.

“I don’t hate you,” he repeated. “But I don’t blame you for thinking that I do.” He paused. “I have been horrid to you. The worst I could possibly be. And you were right. I pushed you away and hurt you when I should have been there for you. You were a child and you needed someone, but I—”

Kareem sighed so heavily, so painfully, my wet lashes fluttered open.

“I was so angry.” He hung his head. “That night when I found Father’s letter for you at the bottom of Mother’s drawer. What I read—what he had done when Mother had been sick, I was so shocked. I felt…betrayed by him. Like the man I had respected and known him to be turned out to be nothing but a fraud and I…I couldn’t believe Mother had let him get away with it. I couldn’t believe she had covered for him, and I was furious.”

Regret turned his eyes glassy. “I wasn’t thinking straight when I went to confront her, and when I saw her laughing with you in the sitting room, it tipped me right over the edge. I didn’t stop. I didn’t think. I didn’t consider you.” He shook his head weakly. “But you should never have had to find out like that, and I will always regret how I handled the situation, Esmeralda.”

The memory brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes, blurring my vision. Until one by one they trailed slow and searing down my cheeks and dripped off the edge of my trembling jaw.

And I let them fall. For the little girl who’d had the carpet ripped out from under her feet so violently, tripping her into a never-ending hole of darkness.

The one who’d been cuddled with her mother on the sofa, giggling over an old memory when Kareem had come charging into the room. The girl who’d been scared by the rage darkening her older brother’s face as he glared at her—something she had never seen him do before. The one who’d felt confused as he waved the paper in his hand, demanding their mother to tell him what it was before he asked the questions that sent the girl’s blood running cold.

Is Esmeralda not your daughter? Did Father cheat on you when you were sick?

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