Page 4 of The Other Side of Green

Jack, my brother.

My heart pushed against the word ‘brother’ unwilling to believe it. My brain shouted back, ‘Believe it’.

My heart told me I’d been stupid to leave, to run. I should have found Jack in Boston and told him Luca’s revelation. ‘I’m not your only brother, Jack is too’.

I didn’t think I’d recover from that.

How could I?

Jack Cross, the man I’d been in love with all my life was my brother.

Excuse me while I puked. Shame of what we’d done ran through me like a double-edged dagger. We’d… We’d…

I needed facts. Needed that worthless woman who wore a name badge labelled Mom to explain what the hell Luca was talking about.

“You ‘kay there, darlin.”

I opened my eyes and looked up into the rounded face of an older woman, her skin the color of rich cocoa, smooth and plump. “Sure. I’m okay,” I lied. Nothing was okay. What sort of word was okay anyway? Stupid? Ok-ay? Are you good? Are you happy? Are you sad? Okay?

I shook my head trying to clear my fractured thoughts.

“This seat taken?” She bustled herself in, her pristine gray jacket pressing against my arm. I glanced over my shoulder at all the other empty seats.

“You look sad, sweet pea.”

I smiled at the term of endearment. It was so home.

“I’m fine.”

“You been travelling long?” She reached into her bag and pulled out a crumpled paper bag, offering the small squares of homemade toffee to me. The smell did something strange to my insides, almost melting what I had left within me. Tentatively, I reached for one and popped it in my mouth, my stomach gurgling. “Three days.”

“That’s a journey.”

“I’m on my way home from college.”

She nodded and sucked on her toffee. “What ‘ya studyin?”

Jack. I studied Jack. “Violin.”

She nodded. “Always sounds like a cat wailing to me.”

“That’s what my Grams said when I first started.” My throat tightened and a loose cannon of a tear slipped down my cheek. I swiped at it, but not before my new travel buddy spotted it.

“You grievin’, girl?”

I nodded and her dark eyes steadied on my face.

“Loss hurts, but remember our Father always has a plan.” She clutched the handles of her bag tight on her lap and sucked at her teeth again. Around her neck hung a delicate silver cross on a plain chain. Grams believed in the bigger plan too, told me I had a role in it. I forced it from my memory.

“I think his plan sucks,” I grumbled, and the lady smiled and nodded her head.

“There’s love in loss, and loss in love.”

To me, all I could see was loss: empty stretches of the stuff, a ribbon of black without end.

Grams had gone, left me. I hadn’t even got home yet, but already the absence of her ate away at me.

“I’m not sure what life I’ll have without her.” Another tear slipped.