Swelter Read online

  She was right, after a few sips, I felt looser. I felt like talking.

  “What are your plans for today?” Barbie asked.

  “I don't know. I got the groceries out of the way before it got too hot. Do some cleaning. I might go to the pool. You?”

  “I have a meeting this afternoon to plan for the twins’ annual church outing. Then I'll have to grab them from school. Stan promised to take them out for custard at Kopp's after dinner, so they are just tickled.”

  “That's nice.” I said through a tired smile.

  “How's Rory?” Barbie asked, whispering like he was a secret. She lived about five houses down the road, and we had formed a friendship when she moved here a little over a year ago with Stan. In many ways, Barbie was like everyone else, but she had a little extra flavor to her. A little bit more tang, like the lemonade she so loved. We weren't best friends, but I had grown to trust her with tidbits of the issues I was having with Rory.

  “Same old. He wants to take me out to dinner.” For some reason, even with Barbie, I sugarcoated the issues.

  “Well, that's great!” She finally flicked her cigarette at the ash tray before resting it on my hand sympathetically.

  “He still won't let me get a job though.”

  “That I will never understand.” She darted the two fingers supporting the cigarette in my direction. “That's a good thing.”

  “But Barbie, you have the twins. I just want to have something more.”

  “You're gonna make a family! I told you about my friend back in Skokie who took years and then it just happened! She has three now! The less you worry about it, I promise, it will happen.”

  I nodded my head. I had heard all the unwelcome wives’ tales and stories about miracle pregnancies. What I should rub on my stomach, all the positions I should contort into post-coitus to ensure a rapid pregnancy. I had even tried some, but had grown tired of trying to make magic happen. And worrying less, ignoring it, whatever that meant, had gotten me and Rory where we were now: not talking about much of anything.

  “Anyway, is Stan going to be traveling soon? Rory's got a lot on his plate.”

  “Yeah, he'll be gone for a week or two later this month. These salesmen,” she complained as she rolled her eyes. “By the way, have you gotten the new Sears catalog yet?” she asked, with the enthusiasm of a kid who had just walked into a candy factory.

  Just then, my doorbell rang. Not expecting any visitors, I perked up. “Speaking of salesmen,” I snickered, rolling my eyes as I grabbed my spiked lemonade for the trip.

  I walked through the kitchen and to my living room, attempting to make out the shape through the sheers. The generous amount of liquor mixed with the heat and lack of breakfast had me feeling a little airy.

  All I saw was the shadow of a man—tall, broad-shouldered, the shape of a bag slung over his shoulder. Salesmen came in all shapes and sizes, but this one was different, that was certain.

  I crept the door open, and when I laid my eyes on the person in front of me, I gasped. Those light brown eyes, like the honey my grandmother used to bottle, framed by an intense, flirty glare. No matter how serious he was, it always hinted at playfulness, carelessness. A jawline that had gotten more pronounced since the last time I saw it. Wavy light-brown hair, long enough to form careless waves and licks along his neck, and face full of stubble—that was new.

  “Bobby?” I asked, as the sweaty glass of lemonade slipped out of my hand and shattered on the floor.

  “Lilly? Lilly?” Barbie pranced into the living room in her kitten heels. “Oh,” she muttered as she came upon the scene.

  “Hi,” Bobby waved at Barbie, flashing that glowing smile.

  “Hello . . .” she said tentatively.

  “I, uh . . . we all thought you were dead,” was all I could produce.

  Bobby shook his head. “I'm not dead, Lil.”

  The emotions came in waves so rapid, each one took less than a second to breach. First, confusion. How could he be here? He had been gone for years without a trace and we all had come to terms with that. Next, disbelief. Was I going crazy? Hallucinating from the lack of sleep? Then, relief. Bobby was alive. He looked healthy, albeit scruffy compared to the perfectly-groomed men who lived in our suburb.

  A knot formed in the back of my throat as the relief washed ashore. I held it back. I didn't want Barbie to see this. But more importantly, I didn't want Bobby to. And luckily for me, as the waves of relief washed up, a tsunami of anger came next.

  He left. He left us all without saying anything. The first year he would send the occasional postcard to his parents from wherever he found himself. They relayed what information they could to us. He even called Rory a couple of times, but the calls were brief. We thought it was a phase and he’d come back home after his wanderlust wore. But then he was drafted, and after their parents died while he was deployed, it was like he turned into dust. Not a letter. Not a call. He didn’t contact us to ask about the funeral or what would happen to the Lightly estate. Even a selfish, greedy jerk would want to know about the money.

  Seven years since Bobby first walked away. Seven years since I had last seen him. Six since we last gotten word of any correspondence from him.

  I was left behind with his brother, who was broken from the abandonment. Rory was left alone to deal with the deaths of their parents. And now, Bobby thought he could just show up at our doorstep, as if he had just been out of town for a couple of weeks.

  My nostrils flared as I swallowed back the lump.

  “You were, Bobby,” I replied defiantly.

  “Why don't you two head to the kitchen and I'll clean this up,” Barbie volunteered awkwardly.

  I hadn't thought to invite Bobby in, but in the haze of shock, I conceded. He followed behind.

  “This is a nice house. You two have done well.”

  “I suppose,” I replied, pretending to need something from the sink, so that I wouldn't have to face him. I heard him pull a chair from the table and sit. That was always Bobby, making himself at home wherever he wanted.

  “You look good, Lil. Really good.”

  So did he. So much so that it annoyed me.

  I turned. “I uh, I need to call Rory. Tell him you're back.”

  “Yeah . . . yeah.” Bobby nodded, his soft tone an attempt to assuage my anxiety.

  I grabbed the receiver off the wall and pulled the long cord to its capacity down the hall to be out of earshot.

  “Generate, Inc. Mr. Lightly's office.”

  “Hi, Jane, it's Lilly. Could you connect me to Rory? It's an emergency.”

  “Oh dear, he's not in his office, let me see if I can—oh wait, he's coming down the hall, I'll connect you.”

  A few seconds later, the phone clicked as Rory picked up. “Hon? Is everything okay?”

  “Everything's okay. I'm fine. I don't know how else to tell you, but . . . Bobby's here.”

  “What?”

  “Bobby is here in the house. In the flesh. Sitting in the kitchen. He just showed up.” I looked around and guarded the mouthpiece of the receiver as if this information would be a revelation to Bobby had he overheard it. “He’s...alive.”

  “Bobby?” Rory went silent for a moment. “Are you okay? Have you been taking too many of those damned pills?” he hissed.

  “What? No! I swear. You need to come home and handle this.”

  “I—” he sighed audibly over the phone. “But he's dead. I thought . . .” his voice trailed off as he processed the news. If Bobby wasn’t dead, then Rory had to accept his brother had willingly vanished.

  “We all did.”

  Why else would Bobby not call? We were all so close. I had known the Lightly boys since I was a little girl. We spent many summers at their cabin on the lake. Bobby and Rory had their differences like any brothers, but they were a close-knit family. When Bobby shipped out to Korea and we never heard from him, Rory was certain the only reason for Bobby’s silence was that he was gone for good.

&
nbsp; And if by some chance Bobby was alive out there in the world, but had cut us off...well, then he was dead to me anyway.

  “This better not be some awful prank, Lilly.”

  “I would never, Rory. Don't you dare,” I scolded.

  “I'm coming home. Right away. Just don't let him leave.”

  Rory hung up the phone but I held it to my ear, unready to go back into that kitchen. What would I say to him after all these years? Bobby always did what he wanted, and somehow always convinced people to forgive him. Bobby, with the smile that made you always smile back, the charm that could disarm even the most frigid of hearts. But Bobby had walked into a minefield in this house. We were already teetering on the edge, barely holding things together. We couldn't support something as shocking as his return. On the surface it seemed like great news, but I knew Bobby brought more baggage than the rucksack that sat on the floor beside him.

  The dial tone buzzed sharply as I pressed the receiver against my chest, hoping it would moor me to this spot. But I knew if I was out here too long, Bobby would find me or Barbie would find him. I didn't want them speaking.

  I dragged myself into the kitchen, pulled out a chair and sat across from him. Not an ounce of shame was in his eyes and that angered me more.

  “Well, I think I got everything,” Barbie said, wiping her hands on a rag upon entering the kitchen. She stood at the entrance for a beat longer. I knew she wanted at least a nugget for her efforts.

  “Barbie, this is my brother-in-law, Bobby.”

  “Oh,” she said knowingly. She knew Rory's only brother was dead.

  “Bobby, this is Barbie, my friend. She lives down the street.”

  Bobby came to his feet and offered his hand. As Barbie took it, I watched intently as her interest was piqued. Barbie would have been the type of girl in high school who would have fallen head over heels for Bobby within the first few minutes of meeting him. Well, most girls were. But Barbie was exactly the pert, popular cheerleader type who would have wanted a boy like Bobby. A boy who could have any girl he wanted, but gave her the honor of choosing her. Bobby was never the flashy, ladies-man type. He wasn't even cocky. He didn't have to be. He was just himself, outgoing but prone to fits of mysterious quiet. This made people want to dig in more and seek his approval. People wanted to be in the secret club of Bobby Lightly's inner circle. But I knew there was no such thing. No one, not even his brother, could gain access to that club. And despite that dark quiet, there was a light that shone from him. When Bobby was on, his fire would steal all the oxygen in the room. People wanted to bask in that light, hoping that maybe they would shine like he did.

  That's what drove me crazy about Bobby. It was because of that light that people always gave him a pass. I was never that person, and I wouldn't be that person this time.

  “Well, I guess I should go!” Sassy, tangy Barbie was suddenly reduced to a fidgety school girl. “Let you two catch up.” I knew she was praying I would ask her to stay.

  “I'll call you tomorrow,” I said, much to her dismay.

  Her shoulders sank with disappointment. “Well, nice meeting you,” she said coyly. “So glad you're alive!” There it was. Just like that, he turned her into pudding.

  As soon as Barbie slipped out the door, a heavy silence was cast upon the room. There was so much I wanted him to say, but at the same time I wanted to hear none of it. There were no excuses good enough. No words that could placate my rage.

  “Lil, I know I hurt—”

  “You have some nerve, you know that? The way you left. You hurt people. You hurt Rory.”

  “Just Rory?” he asked, cutting to the truth without even saying the words.

  “You don't get to abandon people and then come back at your leisure. You don't let people mourn you, and then just come back like Lazarus! You only think about yourself, Bobby. That's how it's always been. And I don't care how long you've been gone or where you've been, that will never change. If you really cared, you would have stayed away.”

  “You honestly believe that?” he asked skeptically.

  “You would have stayed dead, Bobby. There's a reason why people don't come back from the dead. It takes a long time to move on. People can't just pick up where they left off.”

  Bobby looked down and sighed, finally relaying a twinge of shame.

  “You come back to life and you bring back all the things that died with you. All the things we buried. It's not fair. Everything is always on your terms—”

  “Lil. Lil.” Bobby repeated calmly.

  “Don't you—”

  “Lil!” Bobby raised his voice. Not a threat, but just a way to get through my own protestations.

  I finally stopped, and allowed myself to look Bobby in the eyes for the first time since he showed up at my doorstep. I mean really look into them. Not just at them as a target for my soliloquy of betrayal. In them I could see all the stories he had collected, all the regret, all the mistakes he would admit to.

  The standoff only lasted a few seconds as the front door slammed and Rory strode into the kitchen. Bobby smiled and rose to his feet.

  “Brother?” Rory uttered in disbelief, his face as white as if he had seen a ghost.

  “Yeah, man. I'm here.”

  Their bodies crashed into each other as they embraced, Rory slapping Bobby's back so hard his chest echoed. Just like that, Bobby was back in Rory's good graces. Rory was so happy just to have him alive, he was willing to forget the selfish cruelty. But this wasn't someone who awoke from a coma, this was someone who willingly let us believe he was gone for good. No, we didn't issue a death certificate, we kept his portion of the inheritance from their parents safely locked away on the off chance he would be back, but those were empty hopes of people who just wanted to leave a light on in remembrance.

  “Christ it's hot. Lilly, have you even offered our brother anything to drink?”

  “It's okay. Lil, you don't have to get me anything.”

  “Well, I'd like something,” Rory said. “And he's just being polite,” he added, as if I didn't know his brother.

  I was glad for Rory to arrive as a buffer, so I went to the fridge to pour them some lemonade. I placed the glasses down in front of each of them.

  “Thank you,” Bobby said, trying to catch my eyes again.

  “So Bobby, tell me about where you've been, you son of a bitch. We thought something terrible had happened. But, we're just so happy to have you back. I can't—this is just unbelievable.”

  “I'm going to take a shower. Cool off a bit.”

  My words fell on deaf ears as Rory grilled Bobby about where he had been for the past six years.

  “Actually, Rory, can I speak to you for a second?”

  “What? Huh?” Rory turned to me, clearly annoyed by my interruption. “Yeah, honey.” He turned to face Bobby. “Make yourself at home. Did Lilly show you to your room?”

  Bobby shot me a glance as if he didn't want to snitch on me. “I just got here. We were catching up.”

  “Alright, we'll do it later,” Rory said as he followed me into our bedroom.

  I shut the door. “What's going on here?” I demanded.

  “What? What do you mean?” Rory was visibly confused.

  “Did you just invite him to stay here? For how long?”

  “For however long he wants, Lilly. He's family.”

  “Are you going to cancel your business trips?”

  “You know I can't do that...I'm up for a promotion.”

  “So you're just going to leave him here with me? I have to tend to someone who thinks he can just trounce into our lives?”

  “No one said you had to tend to anyone. And Lilly you've known him since you were, what—eight?”

  “I don't know that Bobby.” I speared my index finger towards the door. “Rory, have you forgotten what he did to us? Why do you think he's here? He's been traveling and he probably needs money.”

  “He has money and he does have his inheritance here, which he is w
elcome to.”

  “Of course, he couldn't come to their funeral, but he could come collect.”

  Rory leaned in. “Lilly, he went to war. He couldn't just come back.”

  I paced away when I realized my disdain was getting in the way of the greater point. Rory was right. Bobby was likely still in Korea when their parents died. My callous accusation that he was here only to collect money from their deaths was a low blow. That wasn’t Bobby.

  “Fine, so he can stay at a hotel with all the money he already has and his inheritance.” I crossed my arms.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? Huh? You never liked Bobby. He's done nothing to you.” Rory’s protectiveness towards his younger brother hadn’t diminished one bit during the years of Bobby’s absence.

  “He hurt you, Rory. He didn't even say goodbye. I watched you suffer, wondering where he was.”

  Rory's eyes softened with sympathy. For so long we had been at odds, that my declaration of empathy towards him eased his combativeness.

  “Listen, hon,” he placed a gentle hand on my elbow. “I know. I get it. Bobby is . . . well, Bobby.” Rory let out a heavy sigh. “But he's here, and you and I don't have a lot of family. He's here now. He came back. That took balls and I don't want to badger him with the whys and the whats. I just want to have my brother back for a while. Eventually, we’ll get answers. I just don’t want to push him away.”

  That small exchange between us had been the most decent conversation we had had with each other in a long time. No false apologies or accusations, just honest pleading. Rory's need for his brother took me back to all the laughter we shared growing up and how Rory and Bobby defended each other at all costs. I couldn't allow my issues to come between that. I would stay out of their way for now.