scar had taken a long time to heal. In a lot of ways, years later, Cork was still in the process of healing.
He’d been thirteen and a half when he and his surfboard collided with the concrete pilings beneath the OB pier. The doctors told us a lot of important cognitive growth occurred for boys at that age, and that it could have been worse—meaning that I might have lost my brother. I was so grateful I hadn’t and never once bemoaned the extra attention he needed now.
Cork was my brother. My family. All I had left. But that didn’t mean I didn’t worry. I worried about him a lot.
Since the accident, he occasionally forgot things and sometimes had significant lapses in judgment, like not turning off the stove or crossing the street without looking. After one of those lapses occurred, I worried more and would wake up in the night in a panic. We were all each other had.
But what if something happened to me? Who would take care of him?
Fortunately, the lapses didn’t happen often. But he had them often enough that I didn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone outside our apartment.
Over the years, we’d adjusted to his limitations. Though my dad had been around at the time of the accident and the long rehab afterward, all of Cork’s care had fallen on me after Dad’s death.
At seventeen years old, my brother would never have what other boys his age do. He’d never surf again competitively. Never pursue a degree in music production. But Cork and I had a pact to focus on what we had rather than on what was lost.
We had each other. We had love. We had a place to live where the ocean we both loved was right outside our door.
“Wanna go surfing with me?” I asked him.
“Oh yeah!” he shouted. Even after the accident, he still loved surfing, and could surf circles around me.
“Great. Go grab your things.”
“Will do.”
His grin wider than before, Cork released me and trotted back to the guest room. When he returned with his backpack, he hugged and thanked Fanny, and then we were off.
In the elevator, he asked a question out of the blue. “Are you still broken up with Saber?”
“No,” I said. “He made a special trip to LA. We talked about what went wrong, then I came with him in the van back to OB. He just dropped me off. He had to go help his parents, but I know he was sorry he missed saying hi to you.”
“I knew you two would get back together,” Cork said, his eyes shining. “He really loves you.”
“Saber and I are starting over,” I said in a cautionary tone, putting my hand on his arm. “It’ll be different from before. There are things we have to work on. I’m not sure we’ll be able to fix what went wrong.”
“But you’re together. You can’t fix what was wrong if you’re apart.”
My brows rose. “Wisely spoken. You’re right.”
“I’m right a lot of the time.” My brother looked down his nose at me and straightened his wide shoulders. “Right about the things that really matter—caring for others, connecting with them, loving you.”
His reciting wisdom from our father made tears prick my eyes.
“You’re right, Cork. Totally.” I reached for his hand and he took mine, clasping it firmly in his much larger one.
“I hit my head and some things got scrambled.” His brow creased, right along his scar. “I’m not as smart as I once was, but my heart’s still exactly the same.”
“In a lot of ways, you’re wiser than before,” I said resolutely. Adversity had taught both of us important lessons early on that most people our age didn’t yet know. “And your heart’s not exactly the same. It’s bigger.”
Lotus
THE SUN HUNG low in the azure sky, warming my back as the ocean roared soothingly in my ears. I bobbed on the undulating surface on my board, my legs dangling off the sides.
Surfing and gardening were where I was most content. Whatever free time I had, I spent it either on the water, or up to my elbows in dirt with my earbuds blasting my favorite songs. Growing things and writing poetry were my passions, but it was the sea that anchored my soul.
I glanced at my bighearted brother. Cork’s gaze was fixed on the horizon, his expression serene. Wet like mine and plastered to his head, his hair was so saturated with seawater, it looked like burnished gold.
Friday afternoon was our