I figure I shouldn’t have to rule out guy time with my brothers just because I crave the smooth burn of bourbon sliding down my throat every second.
“I walked here,” I say, grabbing an iced tea and joining them.
Bowen shuffles the deck and deals. “Get ready to give me your money, suckers.”
“Nah, I’m feeling lucky tonight. Plus, my roof.” Forrest points up.
I just smirk, because I’m usually the victor here. My brothers have lousy poker faces, especially Keaton.
“I’m not even going to attempt to brag, because we all know I’m crap,” my oldest brother admits.
“That’s his one curse word for the week and we got to witness it!” Forrest teases.
Glancing down at my first hand, I ask for two new cards in exchange for the ones I discard. My brother’s heads are buried in their own hands, but by the crease in Bowen’s brow, and the way Keaton is chewing his lip, I know I can manage to pick up a better combination of cards than them. Forrest is a little tougher, especially because my twin and I usually play very similarly.
“Hey, do you guys know of any cheap listings in town?” I throw the question out, knowing they’re going to start prying.
But since looking at my bank account, it’s all I can think about.
“You mean house listings?” Bowen asks, curious.
“Yeah. I’ve checked into my finances, and I think I’m ready.”
“To buy something? You sure you want that much responsibility?” Keaton eyes me.
And here we go. “Yes, Dad. I’m almost thirty fucking years old and live in Mom’s guest room, believe me, I think I know how to handle myself.”
All three of my brothers exchange a look, and suddenly I’m envisioning slitting their throats with my cards.
“What?” I cry, exasperated.
My twin speaks up. “It’s just … you don’t want a house. It’s so much work, and if I had to do it again as a bachelor, I totally would have rented a small place. It was dumb to own a whole home, and I didn’t use half of it.”
“What you’re saying is, you all think it’s a bad idea for me to get my own place. Just admit it, I’m not a moron, despite your opinions of me.”
I was only saying what everyone in the room was thinking. I’m not sure why my temper is getting the best of me … honestly, most of the time, I’m a really laid-back guy. Probably because, for the past five years, I’ve proven to myself and everyone around me that I can be sober, responsible, reliable, and all the other positive personality attributes you can think of. I’ve spent a lot of time repenting and allowing my family to keep me under close watch.
And now, the first time I try to tell them I’m ready to spread my wings, they’re batting me back down to the ground.
Keaton’s face frowns in sympathy, and I know what he’s about to say is all going to be pandering bullshit.
“That’s not what we’re saying, Fletch. We’re just … we worry about you. We see how well you’re doing, and how great your life is right now, and we just want the best for you. You’re doing good at Mom’s, with your job and your woodworking … why change something? Consistency is best, correct? Buying a home, it’s a big step with lots of frustrations and problems that could arise. You don’t need that kind of stress.”
I want to throttle him, and I have to bite the back of my tongue hard to keep from letting my fury out. They all look at me like the little brother slash screw-up that they still think I am. Have I ever interfered in their lives, or kicked them while they were down? Not once. Yet, they always seem to be ready and willing to do it to me.
“Have you not been watching for the last five years while I clean my life up and get it in working order? Do I not show up for Mom more than any of you these days? Have I found a passion that I’m good at, that I have begun to make money off of? When will my recovery be enough for you guys to look at me like a normal person, instead of your alcoholic, troublemaker brother?”
And that’s the crux of it. What has been weighing on me for so long, just knocking at my heart to be let out. They don’t view me on the same level as themselves, and that’s why