The Good Son Carolyn Mills (best english novels to read txt) 📖

“Yeah, well, next time we’ll go someplace better,” he said. “No offence to Amir or his dad or anything.”

I nodded, but if I was sure of anything, it was that there wouldn’t be a next time. When I dropped Ricky off at the carpool lot, my whole body sagged with the release of tension and I was hit with a sudden and urgent need to use the bathroom. I called Amir five minutes later from the parking lot of a Burger King.

“I miss you,” he said. “I was happy when I got your text about leaving early. I can’t wait to hear all about your adventure.”

“That’s one way to describe it,” I said. “I missed you, too.”

But as I continued driving toward Dunford, and toward Amir, it occurred to me that what I’d been looking forward to, ever since letting Ricky out of my car, was being alone. I didn’t want to think about, much less talk about, my weekend with him and the frustrating haze of impotence that dogged me in his presence. How when I wanted to yell and scream and kick and hit, instead all I could do was mumble and apologize. The truth was, even more than I hated my brother, I hated the version of myself I became around him.

CHAPTER SIX

•

AS I’M LYING ON MY couch, doped up on cold medicine, my head feels as if it’s floating. I am disjointed. None of my limbs feels securely attached to my body and my thoughts are just as discombobulated. Mom’s message plays in my mind, her voice lilting in an eerie sing-song: You’ll never guess what I just found out! Then, suddenly Amir materializes in front of me, holding out Amy’s braid, swinging it back and forth like a pendulum.

I jolt upright. I must have cried out in my sleep because it’s the sound of my own voice I hear echoing in my ears as I sit up, my heart thumping erratically. Amir is back, I think to myself, and for a moment my accelerated heart rate has nothing to do with the dream that startled me awake. Then I know. That’s what Mom’s message was about, her breathless excitement: Amir. Surely Mom doesn’t think…? I don’t let myself finish the thought. Going down that road, even glancing in its direction, feels disloyal to Jason. And Mom knows I am committed to Jason and to Parker. She doesn’t know we’ve talked casually about marriage or about moving in together — true — but I’m pretty sure she would never suggest I toss Jason aside just because Amir has suddenly reappeared. That would be more Ricky’s style.

Still. What did Amir say this morning? It was good to see me. And he meant it, too, if I can still read him. Those simple words were underscored by a gleam of sincerity in his eyes that I remember all too well from the years we were together.

Yet, in my dream his eyes had been narrowed in accusation as he swung Amy’s braid back and forth in front of my face. The re-opened investigation comes rushing back at me and I am reminded again that my safe little universe is about to implode. At least — and this is a selfish and stupid thought — at least then Amir will know. He might finally understand why things turned out the way they did. And at the thought, I feel the tiniest spark of vindication.

I should have called Mom back right away. I want to know how she’s doing, but now I’m also curious about how she’ll bring up Amir being in town. Not to mention the investigation, given that the case was so pertinent to our lives — a drama that fully engulfed our family. At the same time, I’m almost afraid to mention the case because I’m worried Mom will pick up right away on my panic, so instead of calling her, I slink down to my darkroom and stare at the trays I left out last night, still full of chemicals. I dump the trays and rinse them out properly. Usually, I’m good at leaving the rest of the world behind when I’m in the darkroom, but as I clean up the mess I left, my mind is spinning. Everything I’m working on in here, the prints for Parker, it all seems so futile. My future, suddenly, feels as flimsy as paper.

There is so much I should do. Obviously, I need to talk to Jason. I can’t keep putting him off forever. Perversely, I keep replaying Amir’s startled greeting from this morning. And then, too sick and too tired to keep thinking, let alone standing around in the dark, I wander back upstairs and burrow under the heavy duvet on my bed, trying to hide from the confusion and worry battering my brain.

This time, I don’t dream.

WHEN I WAKE UP, I am still thinking about Amir. The fact hits me, plain and irrefutable, that around Amir I was a better person. I have spent years hating my brother, and hating myself, but now I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if Amir and I had stayed together. What kind of transformation would my life have gone through if we had both made different choices? For example, right now, with the news of Amy’s case being re-opened, would I be surrounded by the rallying support of friends, leaning on Amir’s calm and capable shoulders, instead of burrowing away in an empty house with my worst fears pressing in on me?

One thing I do know is this: I wouldn’t have been able to shut Amir out the way I am shutting out Jason, but then, Jason and I don’t live together so it’s easier to create space, to give myself some breathing room. Once Amir moved in with me, I had nowhere to hide.

AMIR PROPOSED TO ME IN the park where we first met. He had packed a picnic,