Handful by C.R. Grissom

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Everest

Kirsty didn’t want to fall asleep without hearing my voice. She doesn’t reveal her emotions often. I fell asleep last night obsessing over her willing disclosure.

She dropped that in my ear and went to sleep.

While I stayed awake half the night.

Shane insisted I go with him to a storage place today. Dad’s storage. Like I give two good shits about the man who walked out of my life to spend the rest of his with his other son. I wipe my hand across my mouth. This situation is screwed up.

I don’t want to participate in any excavation of Dad’s history. It’s certainly not one we shared. I’m doing this for Shane, my half brother. Fuck.

I pull into the Caprise Motel’s parking lot in Santa Clara. Not exactly the lap of luxury, from the looks of the building, it was probably built in the fifties, likely the last time it was updated, too.

Shane climbs in the Baja. He’s quiet, checking it out. I reverse out of the space and head for the parking lot exit. I programmed the storage facility address into my maps app. So far Shane hasn’t said a word. No reason for us to talk. If Shane wants to have a conversation we will; otherwise, it’s going to be a quiet ride.

“How long did you two work on this?”

By this I interpret he means the Baja. “Four years.”

“He talked about this fucking car all the time. I’m surprised he left it for you.”

“That makes two of us.”

He makes a rude noise in his throat. He’s such a joy to be around, and I find myself being grateful for my sisters. I should thank Shane for the opportunity to appreciate all five of them.

I put myself in Shane’s shoes, but when I go there, I can’t imagine why he’s pissed at me. Dad left my family for his. Dad chose Shane and his mom. As far as I can see, he never looked back at my family.

I don’t get the animosity.

Sure, I could pound my chest, indulge in a lot of yelling, and get angry over all of this. It seems like a huge waste of time and wouldn’t resolve anything. On the other hand, I don’t owe Shane anything, and he’s clearly not interested in friendship.

Coach Larry, my rec league football coach, stood by the tenet that being a leader means dealing with difficult people. My half brother fits that description to a tee.

We drive in silence. I’m not sure why Dad picked San Jose to hold his belongings. Cheaper in Modesto, and more secure, considering the neighborhood we’re driving through to get to the facility.

I can all but feel Shane’s fury. Odd. The more antsy and angry he gets, the more it calms me down. It’s the realization that Dad made his choices, and Shane has the ability to choose for himself.

I’m uneasy about the reason Dad sent us here. I’m fulfilling a dead man’s last request for the sake of a half brother who clearly dislikes me.

“Dad never stopped talking about you.”

About me, why? It pisses me off he’d have the gall to talk to the son he chose about the son he abandoned. “I have no idea why he’d mention me to you. He certainly didn’t give a shit about me or my sisters. He left us to be with you.”

“I was never enough!” he shouts. “Never strong enough, smart enough, or an athlete, I couldn’t please him.”

Why did you try?I leave my thought unsaid. I’d hate to live my life in someone else’s shadow and feel sympathy Shane did.

“Are you angry with me or at him?”

“I couldn’t compete with you.” He flings his hand in my direction. “It doesn’t matter now. He’s dead,” Shane says dully.

Nothing to say to that statement. He’s right. The man is dead and gone. Why we’re running an errand for a dead man remains to be seen.

I pull into the storage facility. Glancing around I wonder if it looked any better when Dad first drove up and thought it was a good place to store stuff. I’d be surprised if Dad had anything of value to store. This place is a complete dump.

Shane jumps out to run inside. Since we don’t have a card key to open the gate, I assume he’s getting us in. I’m not leaving the Baja in this parking lot. Someone would hot-wire it in about thirty seconds. I won’t risk my ride.

Shane walks out of the building, and the gate starts to slide open before he climbs inside the Baja. The moment he’s in, I drive through the open gate. On the building closest to us, I see numbers painted above each roll-up door.

“What’s the space number?”

“Two seventy-three, building two.” He points to the structure on the far right.

The space is at the far end of the building. I park in front of the roll-up door. Shane jumps out, key in hand. I turn off the engine and reach across the seat to lock the passenger door. Pulling the key from the ignition, I climb out.

My hands are steady, and my guts twist. I don’t want to take this walk down memory lane. I have no idea what I’m about to step into. It’s disturbing on so many levels. Dad walked away from us. He never gave us another thought. Dick move on his part. He murdered the love and hero worship I felt for him the moment he walked away.

Shane pockets the lock and rolls the door up.

Showtime.

Whatever awaits inside won’t be worse than the day we realized he left us for good. Mom found his note saying he wasn’t coming back. She moved on, which forced my sisters and me to do the same. I remember thinking if Mom could keep it together, I could do no less. I was the man of the house.

I shake my head at the memory. Thirteen years old and full of myself. Mom held herself together. My sisters did too, after a bit. We all shouldered his loss and regrouped without him. I don’t need this, but clearly Shane does.

Dad made Shane feel less. In losing Dad, I got the better part of the deal.

I’ll view the remains of Dad’s life with my half brother. Shane had Dad, but I had so much more in my family. This simple fact gives me the strength I need to follow Shane into the storage unit.

Shane flips a light switch. The space is mostly empty. Boxes are stacked along the sides of the unit. There’s a desk along the back wall. On top of a file box sits the football Dad used to throw with me. Picking up the ball, I inspect the EM I’d drawn underneath the laces. The white paint I’d used is cracked and faded. The ball went missing the same day he did.

I always wondered what happened to this football. What a fucked-up thing to do: leave your son and take his ball with you. I’m shocked he left the Baja for me.

Shane makes a sound, not quite a gasp, but something I recognize as pain. I set the ball down and join him at the far end of the space.

Photos are tacked up above the desk. I step closer to the wall to get a better look at them.

Old pictures of my family cover the wall like a shrine. You can follow along as our family grew and as each kid came along. A good many of the photos are of Dad and me and the evolution of the Baja restoration. My heart slams against my ribs. There are pictures taken of me in Gladiator Colosseum. Pics I don’t recognize, taken from the stands and not field-level prints culled from the internet.

I’m not prepared, after all.

Dad came to a few of my games. I recognize two different home games from my sophomore year. What the actual fuck?

“You were his golden child. You could never do anything wrong. Do you have any idea how fucked up it was for me to fight a shadow?” Shane asks between clenched teeth, his voice rising with every syllable.

I’m still processing my complete shock at the fact that Dad came to my games. He never approached me. I never knew.

My fists clench. “No, I can’t imagine it.”

Shane gestures to the wall of photos. “Do you see me up there? No.” He stabs a finger toward the wall. “Mom’s not there either. It’s like we didn’t exist. She died with him on that fucking boat.”

I flinch.

“I spent so much time trying to make Dad love me, I ignored my mother. The only person who actually loved me.” His voice catches. “What does that say about me?”

I won’t answer that. What can I possibly say to him about his relationship with his mother? “Dad had issues. Don’t take them on.” I want to get far away from this weird-ass homage to my family. “He chose you and your mom. He walked out of our lives.” I spread my hands wide, encompassing the storage unit. Fuck calmness. “My family became two-dimensional studies on a wall in a crappy storage unit. He spent the rest of his life with you.”

A photo spread doesn’t change the fact he abandoned us. I draw in a long breath. “Remember that.”

“He loved you more than he ever loved me.” Shane’s voice cracks.

“He chose you, Shane.” I shake my head to try and clear my thoughts. “Whatever else he did or said or left unsaid. He wanted to be with you and your mom more than he wanted to be with my family.”

I hear Shane’s breath catch before he composes himself. He’s still grieving his loss.

My loss isn’t fresh.

Dad fucked us all over. Shane has no one. At the end of the day, I have Mom and my sisters. I have a woman in my life who makes me laugh and takes care of me, too. I have my teammates, my brothers. I have good friends. I’m surrounded by people who care.

Shane is alone. Standing here in this shrine to my family, I can’t imagine how painful this must be for him.

“You’re my half brother. We don’t have to be strangers. There’s no reason we can’t be friends.”

“Get out. Just get the fuck out,” he shouts.

“I don’t want to leave you here on your own. Come with me. I’ll drive you wherever you want to go. You need to get away from this place.”

“You don’t know what I need. Can’t you hear? Leave me alone. I want you gone.”

I shake my head, sad and mad for us both. I walk away from the crypt Dad created to store his memories. I take one last glance at the deflated football he kept, and stride away from my half brother, unable to do anything else. I drive home wishing I could see Kirsty, and hold her, but she’s in Boston. She’s facing her own demons while waiting beside her brother’s hospital bed.

I shudder.

One day I might tell Mom about the storage unit. Then again, she doesn’t need to know. What possible good could it do to know about this place? I told her about Shane. I could hear the pain in her voice when she found out Shane is Dad’s biological son.

Dad caused so much pain.

I drive home and pull into our garage, crank the engine off, and climb out. I feel like I’ve just played in back-to-back games. My body hurts. My knee throbs in time with my pulse. My brain does, too.

I’ll never know why Dad made these choices. The answer died with him.

I’m mired in grief. Going to that storage unit stirred up emotions in me I mistakenly believed were long dead. I walk through the house in a daze, close my bedroom door and collapse on my bed. When my stomach folds over on itself I rush to the bathroom and puke.

Damn you, Dad. You had two families and carelessly fucked them both up.

I flush the toilet. I turn on the shower because throwing up made me break out in a full-on sweat. I run the water on the cool side. Step out of my clothes and let the water wash away the sickness.

I’m sick for Shane. I don’t blame him for hating me. I’d probably hate me, too.

*

My cell ringspulling me out of a restless sleep. I check the screen. It’s Kirsty. I slide the bar across my phone to answer. “Hey.”

“Oh, crap. Did I wake you?”

It’s pathetic how much I needed to hear her voice. “I felt like crap earlier, so I took a nap.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. We can talk later.”

“No.” I stretch my free arm over my head. “Let’s talk now. I need to wake up. You can help me with that. How’s Collin?”

“He’s off the meds that kept him under.” She lets out a breath. “It’s a step in the right direction.”

“That’s amazing news.”

“I want him to wake up naturally. We’ll know more about next steps when he does. We need to understand his outlook before I make plans to return to school. There’s concern about brain damage. We won’t know until he’s fully aware.”

My need for her grows stronger every day and she’s been gone less than a week. “I hope for his sake, you’ll feel confident enough to make plans to come back.”

“Yeah, me too. You didn’t hurt your knee again, did you?”

Her concern fills me with warmth. “Nah. Something else. A personal thing—I’ll tell you about when you’re back.”

“I’m a good listener.”

“Without a doubt. Honestly though, it’ll keep. Focus on Collin and your parents right now. I’m fine.”

“Dude. You’re more than fine, you’re exceptional.”

I snort out a laugh. “Finally. She realizes what most take for granted.”

She laughs. “This is why I don’t give you compliments. You don’t need them.”

“Sure I do.”

“I’m getting off the phone now. We’ll talk later,” she says in a husky voice.

“Take care.”

“Ditto.” She ends the call.

The pang hits me hard. I want her brother to heal so she can come back. Staring at my bedroom ceiling—her voice still a whisper in my mind—I know without a single doubt that I’ve fallen in love with Kirsty. She became freaking important to me. Necessary. Her kick-ass attitude and her absolute devotion to friends and family. The way she took care of me when I got hurt. She reeled me in, smirk by smirk, until she wrapped me around her little finger.

I feel a pinch in my chest. My ass hangs in the wind right now. We weren’t supposed to get serious. We were going to have sex and some fun then we’d slide back into a platonic friendship.

We never talked about sticking with it.

She’d freak if I told her I want more from us than sex. Kirsty’s priorities solely focus on her degree. She believes she can only choose one to achieve success.

Fuck.

I can’t let her know how I feel until I’m dead certain she feels the same way. She could just decide to walk away from me. I imagine what she’d say, “Uh, Everest. We were supposed to be movie and booty buddies, nothing more.”

Damn it. No. Not acceptable. She’ll have to decide she’s in love with me. It has to be her idea or what we have built so far, what we could build with each other, will slowly deflate like a long-ago-forgotten football left in the dark.