Page 86 of Silver Sweet

Unlike where we grew up: the Cobalt Estate, a mansion down the street from the Hales. Our freezer contained wild caught salmon, the best cuts of beef, and puff pastry sheets. All for our private chef to whip up gourmet meals.

Most of us loved going to the Hale House for junk food. I think our parents liked it too. They’ve always encouraged us to be close to our cousins.

I swallowed three swigs of water. “I’ve gone down on many Hot Pockets, which is like twice the size of this little thing.” I’ve also eaten pizza bites before, but I just wasn’t thinking. My headspace has been a yo-yo between my brothers and Phoenix, and most of the time, it gets stuck on Phoenix like the string is knotted around him.

Ben pinched another pizza bite off the baking sheet. “I have a favorite of the songs you’ve recorded so far.”

I stood up straighter. “‘Nuclear Winter?’”

He shook his head. “The one called ‘Territorial.’” He rotated the bite between his fingers as silence fell a little heavier. The song is about fear of failure, about how it feels trying to control situations that are so far out of your control.

“What do you like about it?” I asked him.

A smile hooked the corner of his mouth. “The guitar riffs. Harriet called themnastytoo. In a good way.”

“She is my number one fan,” I said, thankful she wasn’t present to sling back,I’m your only fan.Which she did yesterday.

Ben got more serious as he eyed the pizza bite. “It’s not just the guitar riffs.” He scanned the dimly lit living room, the harmless quiet of our shared apartment, all our brothers tucked away in their beds. “It’s how I feel sometimes. Your lyrics.” His reddened eyes rose to mine. “I want to be better so badly, Tom. I’m so scared that I won’t ever get rid of this fucking voice in my head that says I shouldn’t be here, that says it’s what’s best for all of you, and I’ll let everyone down.”

My voice came out so hushed. “Dude, I don’t think there’s a way you could let us down. Our love for you isn’t measured byyour mental state. You could be spiraling out, and we’d still want you here and care about you and pick you back up.”

I added fast, “But I’m not trying to make it easy for you to leave either. Please don’t do that.”

“I don’t want to,” he whispered. “I’m not going to.” It sounded like a mantra, like something he often repeated in his head.

I’d never considered one of the songs Phoenix and I wrote together could deeply resonate with my little brother. After that night, “Territorial” became my favorite we’d recorded so far.

So, I might not be the worst brother in the world. I’ve clearly made enough strides for Ben to want to spend two hours watching a volcano disaster flick with me, but I naturally want to bethe best. Being the best brother means being here for more than a handful of moments. It means keeping this great streak alive.

All it takes is one bad grade to tank your GPA. It’s the same thing.

I feel like I’m about to receive a C+. The plus is being generous on my part. I pick up my guitar case and slip my wallet in my front pocket. “I can cash in the raincheck tomorrow.”Please ask me again. Please let this not be a one-time thing.

“No worries,” Ben says, tying a trash bag. My face must be telling him something. “Really, Tom, it’s okay. You have way more important shit to do.”

“Youare the most important thing to me, dude.” I say it, yet my actions are not demonstrating this today, and it’s a blade in my gut.

Ben drags a hand against his neck. Mister Feathers squawks out, “My home! My home!” That bird has serious co-dependency issues, and he’s been with Ben for like a month or two. That’s how easy it is to fall in love with my brother.

I wish I had that power.

He strokes the bird with two fingers before telling me, “I don’t want to be more important to you than your music.”

That hurts.

I set my guitar case on the ground. I open my mouth, shut it, my emotions too scrambled to speak. I never want my ambitions to supersede my brothers, but music has become synonymous with Phoenix, with another person who has bled into the lyrics, into every beat with me.

I’ve never considered, not for a moment, choosing a dream over a brother. Even contemplating it now feels like a betrayal so guttural, I lose oxygen in my lungs.

Is there a way to have it all? There has to be a way.

Because I’m terrified the cost of success is my little brother.

Ben says so quietly, “I don’t want to be the reason you don’t complete your album. I can’t be the reason, Tom. It will destroy me. Do you get that?”

I nod a few times, trying to process this. “Yeah, yeah. But it wouldn’t be your fault?—”

“I’ll feel like it is. So when stuff like this arises—you needing to rehearse a song with your drummer—you need to go and not feel like you have to be here with me.Please.”