who had tragic and terrible childhoods and wanted to understand their own brain through the study of others. And he approached HaShem with a sort of desperation to understand.
Why, he’d ask late at night, lying on his bed staring at the ceiling and trying to pretend like he didn’t know his brother was crying in the other room because his body was shattered. Why Eliah? Why punish him for my selfishness?
It was years before he realized maybe it had nothing to do with him at all. Maybe, this was Eliah’s lesson to learn. The place where their paths diverged. Maybe Jude was never meant to know why Eliah was the one who had been hurt.
But accepting that meant accepting the whole reason he’d chased down this life with an almost violent passion was for nothing.
The sound of the kettle startled him out of his thoughts, and he grabbed a mug from the cabinet and a bag of tea. The tin was almost empty, the last of his mum’s latest care package, and he didn’t want to bother her about sending another. Though, even that was a bit of a lie.
The truth was, every time he rang her, it got harder and harder to come up with answers to her questions. “Have you met anyone new, darling? Are you happy there? Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”
He knew he should be a better son, to answer her with honesty, but every time they spoke, he could hear the resignation in her voice. Her sons were never going to lead the life she’d envisioned for them, and it broke her heart a little bit more with each passing year.
Once upon a time, she’d been over the moon with his life’s choices. When he told her he was going to be a rabbi, she’d wept the happy collective tears of all Jewish mothers who wanted the boasting rights. She held him by the cheeks and kissed his forehead and told him he was going to be so brilliant at it.
And he knew she was right—at least, on the surface. His self-doubt never left, but he also knew he would be good at it—if he applied himself. Well before the accident, one of the things that set the twins apart was his own charisma. He was just a happier child than his brother was He’d always been less introspective and more able to accept reality as it was.
Eliah wanted to think all the time, Jude just wanted to live in the moment. He craved the rush of adrenaline in everything he did, and it never seemed to matter how reckless his choices were. He always felt invincible.
It was why he had darted across the street the day of the accident. It was why he had laughed at the top of his lungs as he ran into traffic, narrowly weaving around cars and hoping Eliah was watching with his heart in his throat.
Had he known then what he did now, he probably still would have done it, but he wouldn’t have allowed Eliah to wait for the light. He would have taken Eliah by the hand first and forced him to echo Jude’s steps.
The thought of what life might have been like if he’d pushed his brother to be a little bit more like him was haunting. It was the very reason he woke up at night with the sound of Eliah’s screams and squealing tires and crunching metal echoing in his ears. It was why he panicked every now and again when he saw the inside of a hospital waiting room or smelled the stench of antiseptic.
His own recklessness might have saved his brother, but his desire to have Eliah watch him take chances had ruined his brother’s life.
It was impossible not to feel the blame still resting on his shoulders, even if it hadn’t been him behind the wheel.
Dragging a hand down his face, he thought about his desk—about that letter of resignation sitting there. About more than one educated, willing, ready person who would fill his shoes better than he could. And if he really did send it, he would be fine. He’d do something else with his life that brought just as much meaning—or at the very least, lacked the same amount. He wasn’t sure what, yet, but it didn’t matter. He’d find a way to reshape his faith to fit into whatever new life he chose.
His mother had expected him to be a life-long scholar and maybe meet