I come home to find Noel on the sofa, the TV switched onto one of those programmes which just keep him company, droning out the silence which infiltrates through the whole house.
“Hey. I’ve brought dinner.” I show him the containers.
“Home already?”
“Andy sent me home early – he said he could take care of the two remaining rowdy drunks.”
Noel flashes me a small smile.
“And Shane was there, so…”
When Shane comes for dinner at Veldons he always stays until close, which means Andy sends me home before the end of my shift. He knows I get up early; he worries about me too much. Much more than any other boss would worry about their employee.
“I’ve got chicken tonight.”
“Okay.”
“It’s still warm but I can stick it in the microwave, if you like?”
“No, that’s okay.”
Noel’s eyes return to the TV, although I know they’re only trying to avoid my gaze. I take the food through to the kitchen, where two days’ worth of dirty plates are stacked up in the sink and used cups are sprinkled across every available surface. I place the food down on the table – at least that’s clean – and head off in search of clean plates, which I unfortunately don’t find. I open the drawer and pull out some cutlery before going back over to him, containers in hand.
“We’re going to have to eat out of the containers,” I say, resting everything on the coffee table next to the sofa. “I couldn’t find any clean plates.” My tone is soft, almost guilty.
“I need to load the dishwasher. I’ll do it later.”
The dishwasher has been broken for two months. He was supposed to call the repairman, but I don’t know whether he keeps forgetting or doesn’t know how to pay him. Noel has trouble remembering things – plans, appointments, deadlines – and it causes a good few problems. But I try not to make him feel bad about it, try to take care of things myself as much as I can. The only thing Noel seems to have no trouble with is his job – thankfully.
“I can do it after dinner. It’s not too late. It’ll be quicker if I just wash everything up myself.”
Noel turns his empty gaze to me. “You don’t have to wash the dishes.”
“I eat here, too. We both need to do the chores.”
I open the containers, grabbing a chicken thigh and placing it in my own tub and pouring some of my potatoes into his. As is often the case, dinner tonight has been kindly prepared by Veldons. We both work all day, and neither of us really has the energy to cook in the evening. During the day, we just eat whatever we come across, often while we’re still working, but in the evenings – unless I’m working late – we spend time together.
I don’t want Noel to be alone for any longer than necessary. When he’s at work in the bakery I don’t worry so much. I know all the customers distract him, and Ronan keeps a close eye on him; the work keeps him busy, and seems to be the only thing which can keep him standing.
“Thanks.”
I smile at my brother. “You’re welcome.”
He stabs at a potato with his fork.
“What will we watch tonight?”
“I think there’s something on about houses.”
“The one where they completely redo them?”
He nods.
My brother loves that programme, just like he loves the cooking show where they bake cakes. He’s good at making cakes, too – he’s good at lots of things. He’s creative, a dreamer, someone who’s always been full of ideas, full of life. A good guy.
I just wish he could find his way back to me; back to himself.
“This place could do with a bit of renovating like that,” I comment, and my brother smiles grimly. “A few extra bedrooms wouldn’t be bad. Maybe a bigger kitchen.”
“What would we do with more bedrooms?”
I immediately fall silent.
“It’s already too big and empty as it is.”
I don’t know what to say again, whether to tell him again that I’m sorry or ignore his words and take back my own.
I wait a few moments to see how things might play out, but Noel seems to let it drop, at least for tonight. He goes back to his food, eating slowly and lifelessly. His eyes are glued to the screen; mine are glued to him.
“Have you taken your pills?”
He nods, chewing slowly.
They don’t seem to be having much of an effect. The doctor said we’d start to see results in three, maybe four weeks, but it’s been two months since he prescribed the new medication, and I haven’t seen any improvement. Sometimes, I actually think he’s getting worse. The pills are destroying him physically – they warned me about that, and I explained it to him, hoping he’d decide to go without and try therapy again, even though that same doctor recommended that he keep trying medication. It would’ve been too risky quitting. But Noel is never okay – not physically and not emotionally – and I’m afraid that all the medication and therapy in the world won’t help.
I’m afraid I’ll never get my brother back.
I moved back here just over a year ago. At first, I thought I’d be able to go back and forth, balance working in the city with my family here. But it only took me one weekend with Noel to realise that my life was about to take a huge turn, just like his.
How could I have abandoned him, thought only of myself, my career, my life, when my brother was alone, with no reason to go on?
To be honest, I should’ve stayed right away, after Dad passed, which happened two and a half years ago. But Noel told me he was fine, he could manage, work was going well. I found out in the worst way possible that he was about to lose everything.
I had to give him everything I had to help him get it all back.
I don’t regret it. I’d never change a thing. I’m his brother, and I’m all he has left. He’s my responsibility. And although Noel tries to change my mind every day, I know I won’t ever leave him again.
If it weren’t for Andy and Reid, I’d have had nowhere to come back to. My brother wouldn’t have had a roof over his head, wouldn’t have had a job. He would’ve had nothing to grasp onto.
Now I live here, in the house I grew up in. It’s small; it was tight when we all lived here together, but we were happy. I was happy when Noel started working here, when he said he wanted to keep our little family business going. I saw it as a good way to stay connected to our roots, and maybe, for him, to build something that he could leave behind, one day.
I never wanted to live here. I had other plans.
I had a job, a wife, a house, friends. Now I work for my brother, doing deliveries, as well as helping out at the local pub. I don’t have a wife anymore, I have no house, and no plans. On top of that, I also have a monthly food allowance for all the meals we couldn’t otherwise afford.
I don’t know what to do – with my brother, with myself, with this entire situation. I don’t know how to go on. I don’t know how to face the past, so full of ghosts, regret. I don’t know how to live this uncertain life; I don’t know that there’ll ever be a future for me.
I’m worried about Noel, about the business, about money. I’m worried about everything. Sometimes I just want to scream, smash up everything around me and run off forever. But then I look at my brother and I think that, somewhere, somehow, he has to get better; and I intend to help him, because he desperately needs it.
I want to see him be okay, react to things. I want to see him live again.
And I want to be by his side.
I’ll never leave him, even if that means giving up my own life for his.