Loneliness clung to me and weighed me down with thoughts of home. I didn’t want to be alone, but I couldn’t stay with Hannah, not while that sorority bitch was there. I left the bar and wandered toward my apartment.
Branson was right. Moving away from Wyoming was a mistake. I knew no one, and anyone I did meet was an asshole. Hannah had been the exception. And now that was ruined.
Fuck.
I need a dog.
I grabbed my phone and searched online for the nearest animal shelter. A few popped up: Cat’s Meow, Rescue Bark, and Pups n’ Pussies.
“Pups n’ Pussies?” I laughed, and a dark-haired girl who lived in the adjoining apartment complex stared at me strangely. “That’s the name of a dog shelter—Pups n’ Pussies.”
My explanation had zero effect. People back east had no sense of humor. Whatever. She’s probably friends with that sorority VP.
I hit the link for Pups n’ Pussies, and within seconds, walking directions to the shelter materialized on my phone. I pulled up the hood on my navy sweatshirt and buttoned my gray peacoat that served as an added outer layer, and my mood instantly improved.
I wore clothes well. My dad’s girlfriend called him a clotheshorse, and so was I. Actually, I was more of a clothes whore. Didn’t matter if I had the money; when I found a style that looked good on me, I bought it. My credit card was practically maxed, but I didn’t care. If a men’s clothing store were to suddenly pop up before me, I’d open a line of credit and go ham.
Instead, brick buildings blurred past me. I turned left at the residential apartments and walked north, following the red blip on my phone. I didn’t know how my mom or dad survived without cell phones. They both talked about some Thomas Guide map shit, highlighting routes in yellow and learning to navigate without Siri or Google Maps. Insane.
I caught my reflection in the sheet of windows that framed the red-bricked student cafeteria. Even with the hood pulled up, my jeans, boots, and jacket looked effortlessly hip. My dad definitely taught me how to dress, if nothing else.
“Own the clothes, don’t let them own you,” he told me. “And don’t pollute the air with some shitty cologne. One spray of the good stuff in the center of your chest is enough.”
I remember Branson laughing and elbowing my dad at that. “What chest? This is Aaron you’re talking about.”
Asshole.
The memory made me grin and feel less lonely. Maybe I should just hop on a plane and go home. I knew Branson would be there. There was rarely a weekend that he stayed at his apartment in Casper. Besides, I could miss Monday classes.
I paused on the outskirts of campus and considered my options. Walk to the animal shelter and hope to find a rescue that was right for me, or book a flight and have a boarding pass ready to scan my way back to Wyoming?
I scrolled through the flight options, which was infinitely easier than choosing my next best friend. Shit, for less than three hundred bucks, I could leave in an hour and be in Wyoming by dinnertime.
My finger lingered over the Purchase button when my phone vibrated in my hand.
Branson.
“Hey, bro, I was just thinking of you,” I said.
The only sound I heard was my brother’s sobs.
“Bran, what’s wrong?”
I heard him clear his throat, but he still didn’t speak.
“What’s going on? Talk to me.” Is Trevor back? My vision blurred, and I lost all sense of where I was. I glanced around, but nothing looked familiar. “Come on, Branson, talk to me.”
“It’s Mom.”
Like taking a punch to the gut, I folded into the pain that seared me. Please no. Please don’t tell me she died. I couldn’t catch my breath. Not Mom. Please, God, not Mom.
I staggered to the closest building and leaned against it. When my legs could no longer hold me, I slid down the side.
“What happened?” Tears streamed down my face.
“She’s….”
“Is she dead?” The words sounded foreign, like someone else had said them. My body shook. I’m all alone.
“No. God, no.”
I tucked my chin to my chest and cried. For a solid minute, I cried into the collar of my hoodie. Mom, please don’t ever leave me. I’ll be better, I promise. Just the thought of my mom dying ripped me in half. I couldn’t stop crying because I couldn’t imagine a worse loss.
“Aaron? Aaron, you still there?”
I couldn’t talk.
“God, I’m sorry. She’s alive. She’s just….”
My strength was gone. My ability to handle shit and know how to deal with it no longer functioned. I felt broken, truly and utterly shattered.
“What? What, Branson!” I snapped. “What’s wrong with Mom?”
“It’s the cancer. It spread to her ovaries.”
I shook my head. “No, you’re fuckin’ wrong. She just started a new job. And she passed her second mammogram. She told me. She wouldn’t lie to me.” Would she?
“She did. But….”
“But what? What the fuck, Branson!”
“She was having some pain, so they did this MRI where I guess they look at everything, not just her breast cancer, and that’s when they noticed some spots on her—”
“No! You’re wrong. Mom doesn’t even have ovaries. After Jack was born, she had all that taken care of.”
“Bro, she told me she had her tubes tied, but she still has ovaries. That’s why she’s going to have that surgery where they remove everything.”
“Will that fix it?” The air had turned, and the slab of concrete I sat on next to the building was freezing. I shivered and then couldn’t stop my teeth from chattering. “Branson, will the surgery fix her?”
“That’s the thought.”
“That’s the thought? What the fuck? Will it or won’t it fix her?” My tone was as harsh and as constant as the back-and-forth wind that slapped me in the face.
“Jesus, I don’t know. How the fuck would I know?” His outburst was followed by a long pause. And in that moment, I felt every emotion in his silence. “Aaron… I don’t know.”
Something clicked inside me that heard what my brother wasn’t saying.
He needs me, not my anger or fear. He needs me to be the strong one, the brave one, the twin who holds him up.
So I lied.
“Bran, it’s going to be okay.”
He cleared his throat, and I swallowed thickly.
“I’m coming home,” I said.
“What?” His confusion was palpable.
“I was seconds away from buying a ticket and surprising you guys when you called.”
“Really?”
“Hundred percent.” I wiped my nose on the shoulder of my jacket. “I thought it was one of those twin things when you called, like you knew.”
“Nah, bro, I didn’t. Are you really coming home?”
Home. I didn’t even know where that was anymore.
“Yeah. Hold up.” I glanced at the screen on my phone and blinked until the airline app came into focus. The next flight was in less than an hour. I’d never make it. But there was another one that left at four. I’d be home in time for dessert.
“I’m booking it now,” I told him while I clicked my way through the transaction. “Done.” I pressed the phone against my ear. “Pick me up at Cheyenne Airport at seven.”
“I’ll be there.”
I was about to hang up when Branson called my name.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop from crying again. “Thank me by being on time.”
His laughter was unlike the girls’ in the bar. His raised me up rather than raising my hackles.
“I’ll be on time. Do you want me to tell Mom?”
I shook my head. “No. Let it be a surprise. A good surprise, I hope.”
“Bro, you’ve always been Mom’s favorite.”
Now I laughed. “Sell that shit to someone who’ll believe it. Listen, I’ve gotta go pack a bag. I’ll see you in Cheyenne at seven.”