Finley
When my phone buzzes on my nightstand, my sleepy brain thinks it's my alarm. And when I grab it to turn it off, I stare at the screen looking for the stop button for far too long before realizing it's a call. I blink a few times and sit up, trying to process the name on the screen.
Bridget. Bridget is calling me. At one am. Well, one am my time. I glance at Harlyn still soundly asleep next to me and then swipe to answer the call.
"Bridg?" I croak.
"Fin?" She sniffs deeply, and more of my senses come back online. "Shit, it's super early there. I'm so sorry."
"Are you crying?"
She clears her throat. "No, it's - I'm fine. I'm sorry. I'll let you sleep."
"No, it's alright. I'm awake. What's wrong?" A million worst case scenarios are running through my brain. Did someone die? Is someone in the hospital? Is she in the hospital? What is going on?
"Um. Just...crappy night, I guess."
Harlyn stirs next to me and pats around until his hand collides with my hip. "Finley? Whas...What's going on?"
"Sorry, sweetheart. Go back to sleep." I slide out of bed and smile at his sleepy little "mmkay."
"Is, uh, are you with Harlyn?" This news seems to snap her out of whatever spiral she's on, at least partially. "Did you spend the night together?"
I grab an extra blanket and start down the stairs. "Not in the way you're thinking. But yes he did sleep over." I tiptoe past the girls' rooms, trying not to hit the creaky parts of the landing. "We can talk about that later. What happened tonight?"
She's quiet for a moment, and I'm wrapped up in my blanket on the couch when she speaks again. "I, uh, came home for Thanksgiving. Drove down this morning and helped Mom with some of the cooking and stuff. And it was mostly fine. It was weird without you, but it was kind of like when you were gone last semester, and it was just us. But...ok? And then...then we sat down to eat. And Dad asked about my grades and how school is going. And... I haven't been doing great."
"In school?" I ask. Bridget isn't a genius, but she's always done really well in school. She stumbled a few times in her first couple years of high school. But by the time she got to her junior year and started thinking about the future, she buckled down. "Is it that college is different? Harder?"
"Um..." She clears her throat. "Both, I guess. Classes are weird, and the grading is different, you know? Your whole grade is based on two papers. I'm not in class for as long, but the out of class work is more." She lets out a long sigh. "So, my grades haven't been fantastic. I'm not failing, but they're definitely not up to Dad's standards. So, of course, he blew up, told me that maybe I wasn't ready to be living on my own, that it's obviously because I'm going out partying and taking advantage of not having a curfew or adults around. And he threw in that that's why I still haven't chosen a major - because I just don't care."
Somewhere in the back of my brain, I know I should be annoyed that this is what she called me about, that after all this time of not talking, she calls to rant about our parents. But there's something so helpless and defeated in her voice I can't help but empathize. "I'm sorry, Bridg."
"The thing is -" she huffs a choked laugh, "- he couldn't be more wrong. My social life is practically nonexistent. Janet and I hang out - hard not to since we're roommates - but making friends in college is hard. At least, it's hard for me. I'm not having a hard time in classes because I'm out at parties every night. I'm just...struggling. It happens, right? I'm not...a failure? Or stupid?"
"Bridg," I say softly. "You're not a failure. Or stupid."
"Well, that's good."
I pause for a moment. "Do you remember my first semester at ICC?"
"Of course I do. You were miserable. Snapped at everyone." She sniffs. "That's when you started therapy, wasn't it?"
"Yeah. Had my first panic attack." I tuck the blanket farther under my feet. "Now, I'm not saying college did all of that. There were a lot of reasons it all came to a head. But you're starting something new, Bridg. You moved out of the house for the first time. You're in a new environment, taking new classes. And I'm going to assume the class size at the University of Chicago is a bit bigger than the class size at Midland."
She laughs. "Yeah, a little."
"It's just new and different, and it's going to take time to adjust and figure things out." I sigh. "Mom and Dad aren't always great at understanding that. But they're not you. Let them be disappointed. Then they'll be even more blown away when you start exceeding - which I'm sure will happen."
"You're really good at this, you know. When you're not defending Mom and Dad."
I can't keep the derision out of my voice when I say, "Gee, thanks."
"It's true."
"Well, you're pretty nice to talk to when you're not only complaining about Mom and Dad." As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I wince. "Sorry. That...that came out wrong."
"Well, apparently there was some truth to it. You're always more honest when you're tired." She sounds tired, too, and old. Too old for her age. "You wanna be completely honest with me? What was that comment about?"
I shift uncomfortably on the couch. "It's just...all you talk to me about is how annoying Mom and Dad are, all the things they do that aren't good. How many times have you called me since I moved here? Twice. Once a few weeks ago when mom and dad wanted you to go home for Thanksgiving. And tonight, when Thanksgiving dinner didn't go well. Granted, this call was about more than them. And I'm glad you felt like you could call me. And I'm glad I helped. But it still stands." I bite my lip and listen to the little voice in my head that sounds a hell of a lot like Max. "And, of course, there were the years you were terrible to me because...I don't even know all the reasons. But I'm pretty sure it had something to do with our parents."
"I apologized for that."
"No. You didn't." I have to resist the urge to scoff. "You showed up in my room, complaining about Mom and Dad, and I went along with it. Because you were finally talking to me again, not at me. But you never actually apologized for being horrible to me for years."
"Mom and Dad were horrible to me." She sounds young now, like the little sister who used to knock on my door after a particularly horrible day at school and color on my bed while I did my homework.
I try to keep my tone soft. "That doesn't give you the right to take it out on me. I know I wasn't the perfect older brother - I'm still not, never will be - but I was just as much under their thumb as you were, as you know very well now. And I'm pretty sure you knew it then, too. I just went along with everything. You fought. And I'm fighting back now, and you're finally seeing that I'm a human being and not the perfect person they made me out to be. And that's great, Bridg. I appreciate that. I'm - It was nice to have you on my side this summer and when you guys came to England. But that doesn't change the fact that you poked and prodded and sniped at me for years, not to mention the time you literally blackmailed me into coming out to Mom and Dad. You haven't apologized for any of that."
She's quiet for a while, and I wait in silence. "I haven't, have I?" She sighs sadly. "I'm sorry, Fin. I really am. I... there isn't an excuse for the way I treated you. I just felt so trapped. I never did anything right. You did everything right."
"I didn't. I don't. We'll never do everything right in anyone's eyes, but especially not theirs." I pause. "I felt it, too. I just didn't say it, didn't know how to say it. Why do you think I waited five years to tell them I'm gay? And almost a year and a half to tell them I wanted to move to England and change my major? And almost backed out after mentioning it the first time?"
"You know, the first time you mentioned moving to England I was in the room."
I blink a few times, trying to concentrate now that my exhaustion is catching up to me. "I know. I remember you saying something along the lines of 'really aren't the favorite now, are you?' and then Dad told you to leave the room."
"Right. Of course." There's a rustle, and I wonder if she's still at Mom and Dad's or if she drove back to her dorm. "It was the first time you were even a little snarky to them. Well, in a way that mattered, not about curfews or sleepovers or anything like that. And then when you really told them where to shove it, a week before you came home...that's when I knew I'd effed up, seeing you as this perfect person doing everything they said for all these years. And I really am sorry. About the coming out thing. It was stupid. I was stupid. I should never have blackmailed you. And definitely not about something like that."
"No, you shouldn't have." I consider for a moment. "I've forgiven you, you know. I moved past that a long time ago."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I needed to. For me. I needed to tell Mom and Dad anyway. I was planning to, actually. You ended up being a shove. Didn't love the fear that they were going to find out from you and not me, being sat down and asked about it without being prepared."
"I just wanted to one up you. I wanted to throw you under the bus just once, just to show them that you weren't perfect, that they didn't know everything about you." The exhaustion is back in her voice.
"How would being gay make me not perfect?"
"I don't know. It was just something I could hold over you. I knew they would hate that you hadn't told them, that it would knock them off kilter. And you know how they hate being off kilter. Anything out of the ordinary just gives them a stroke. In a horribly ironic way, it did make you less perfect in their eyes."
"Yeah in a totally casual-not-so-casual homophobic way." Something twists pleasantly in my chest. This conversation is so long overdue, and it feels great.
"And yet they still held you up as the role model," she scoffs, "the one to become, ignoring the gay thing, obviously."
"Of course. 'Become like Finley, except don't be gay, because we don't know what to do with that. You know, that whole part of our otherwise perfect son.'" I blow out a breath and suck it back in. Something else is long overdue. "I owe you an apology, too, Bridg."
"Fin..."
"No, I do." I clear my throat. "I took Mom and Dad's side too often. I defended them. I didn't take you seriously. It's a default for me, to see everyone's side in an argument. And I know that didn't help. It didn't help you. It didn't help our relationship."
She's quiet for a long moment before she finally says, "Thank you, Fin. That really means a lot."
The stairs creak, and I look up just in time to see Harlyn stumble through the door. "There you are," he mumbles.
"Hi, sweetheart," I say as he shuffles across the room. "You should go back to sleep."
In lieu of answering, he pulls the blanket off my lap, curls up next to me with his head on my criss-crossed legs, and tucks the blanket back around him. "I'll sleep here."
"Alright." My hand lands in his hair, and in moments, he's dead to the world.
"You still there?" Bridget asks, a smile evident in her voice.
"Yeah. Sorry."
"Can we talk about the fact that Harlyn stayed over now?"
I sigh deeply. "If we must."
"You're so dramatic," she giggles. "How's it going with you two?"
"It's...good?"
"Fin..." she draws my name out.
"What? I said it's good."
She clicks her tongue. "Yeah, but you said it like 'Good?' Like you're not sure. Like it's not actually good."
"Sometimes I forget how well you know me," I mumble, still combing my fingers through Harlyn's hair.
"We might've been on the outs for a few years, but you're still my big brother, Fin," she murmurs softly. For some reason, that pulls a lump into my throat, and I swallow hard.
The thing is, I know why things have been awkward with Harlyn. And it's all on me. And I don't know how to tell Bridget that. I don't know if I'm ready to put the words into the world where I have to confront them.
"It's...relationships are hard," I breathe. Bridget stays quiet, and I try to find the words in my sleepy brain. "It's...Most of the time, it's so easy with Harlyn. He's so amazing. So... good, you know?" I swallow. "And my stupid brain - stupid, stupid brain..." The lump is back, and this time it's harder to swallow down. My next words come out choked. "I can't help but think that he's too good. Too good to be true."
"Oh, Fin."
I suck in a long breath. "It's...yeah. I'm afraid I'm going to completely screw it up, Bridg. I'm going to make one wrong move, and he's going to see just how much work I am. And he won't want me anymore."
I stare down at the side of Harlyn's face. His face is so soft when he's sleeping. Lately he's been so stressed and busy. I haven't seen him this relaxed and unguarded in weeks. That's my fault, too, I think. He's hesitant around me. And I hate it. Today was...today was good. It was easy. We laughed and cuddled and kissed and he slept over. And now he's here in my lap, because he wanted to be near me, even if that meant curling up on the couch instead of a bed. Here, in the dark, in the middle of night, it's easy to believe that he'll love me no matter what.
"I know that's stupid," I rush to say. Because I do know it's stupid. "Today was great. Elly and the girls and Harlyn surprised me with a Thanksgiving dinner. Made a whole turkey and mashed potatoes and pie. All the works."
"Apple?"
"Yes."
"And you ate half the pie?"
"Yes. And Max called for a while. And it was so nice, Bridg. Fun. Happy. I just wish...I wish it was always like that. And I know it's not going to be. Life's hard and weird and unpredictable. But -"
"Breathe, Fin." Bridget sucks in a long breath, and I follow suit. "Slow down. I see where you're coming from. I really, really do. But I know that Harlyn is obsessed with you. You should talk to him about all of this. He's really the only one who can convince you he's not leaving, right?"
"Yeah."
"Good." She sucks a long breath in. "I should probably go. I'm still at Mom and Dad's. I need to...decide whether I'm staying the night here or driving back to campus."
I nod. "Sounds good. I should get back to sleep. Hey Bridg?"
"Hm?"
"I'm glad you called." I smile and notice the weight that has lifted from my chest. "And call more, will you?"
She chuckles. "I will."
"And school? You're smart. And kind. And fun. You'll adjust and it will be great. I know it."
"Thanks, Fin. Love you."
"Love you, too."