“Jasper is going to murder me when I return.”
“You blocked him and ditched your meeting and you’re behind 2k.”
“But that’s why I blocked him! So he can’t scream bloody murder about my spur of the moment trip to Greenville, Ohio!”
“Just tell him your little sister couldn’t travel by herself.”
“You’re over eighteen. You’re an adult.”
“And Jasper just happens to know that?”
“Well, maybe? I might have told him one time that I couldn’t make it to a book signing event because I had forgotten when we scheduled it that it was on your birthday?”
“Why is your editor in charge of your book signing events?”
“No reason.”
“You just replied with two words. You never do that. There’s a reason.”
“Fine! I like his family. He has the nicest family ever. They like kinda adopted me.”
“I thought you said you hate his guts.”
“I can change my mind.”
“You might be a good writer but you are a terrible lier. I know he has a sister. You literally stalk the poor girl’s Instagram like how a hunter stalks his prey. Always leaving comments about how beautiful and hot she is and always liking the photo. But yet you can never seem to do the same for your sister.”
Arthur felt slightly guilty at Mille’s words. He really wasn’t after his editor’s family. He just didn’t want to feel like a creep. (Which he was in case anyone was wondering.) He couldn’t help that his editor’s sister was a “smokin’ hot” model. (Jasper’s words not his.) Arthur’s obliviousness once more showed itself. If he’d been paying any type of attention he would have realized that his sister knew way too much about his Instagram activities. Especially his and his editor’s actions concerning a very specific girl. Slightly suspicious.
“Wait. Do you think Jasper likes her?”
“Arthur Periwinkle Devon. She’s his step sister. No one talks about family—especially elder brothers talking about younger sisters—as hot.”
“Oh no. Jasper must hate me!”
“You’re a cash cow.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your only good use is for money.”
As sad as Mille’s statement was, she had spoken the truth. Arthur was generally an awkward person. He used big words and flowery phrases to cover up his inadequacies. While his one-night stands and single dates ate it up like honey, if anyone stuck around him for a long time they very quickly found out that Arthur had the memory of Dory from Finding Nemo. No one found it attractive to be forgotten. Especially if you were supposedly his girlfriend. Even worse.
“How do you like it here?”
“For the twenty minutes and fifty nine seconds we’ve been at our cabin in the woods of Greenville I’d say it beats every other state I’ve been to.”
“You haven’t left California.”
“Don’t point out my flaws.”
“I’m your older brother. I’m supposed to.”
“You’re the one who is trying to go after your editor’s little step sister.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“I’m your younger sister. I’m supposed to.”
“You’re giving me an ache in the head.”
“I don’t think it’s impossible for you to say headache.”
“Ache in the head. It sounds so much more professional. Doesn’t it just strike you down with wonder at how rephrasing something can make it sound so much better sometimes?”
“This is not one of those times. I’m taking the master.”
And with that the two retired to their respective rooms to finally get some sleep. Neither of them realizing that the fridge was rather empty and they had already eaten the few snacks the airline gave them. The next morning was going to be one that tested both their patiences.
———————————
“Mille, why isn’t there any food?”
“Arthur. The cabin isn’t supposed to come with food. It comes with two beds, two full baths, a refrigerator, free wifi—so you can have all your meetings with your editor through video call, free cable, and free heating and air conditioning.”
“You forgot the free hot water.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I was being sarcastic?”
“I don’t think you can be sarcastic. I took all those genes when I was born.”
“Just like how you took everything else when you were born.”
An awkward silence hung over the empty kitchen. Mille was right but she didn’t need to be so blunt about it. Arthur couldn’t control the fact that he was born a male and it just so happened that males got the better end of the deal. The other difference is that Arthur wasn’t actually Bridget’s son. He was her son by adoption but he was Mille’s brother. Albeit a half brother, a brother nevertheless. Arthur often felt left out because of his heritage. Mille was as white as white could be while Arthur was clearly not white. He had dark hair—when it wasn’t bleached—and his skin tone was much darker. It was often a topic Arthur and Mille talked about when they were younger. Neither of them knew Arthur’s birth mother and they doubted that they ever would. No one in the Devon family talked about her. It was taboo.
What the siblings did know was that Arthur’s birth ripped a large chasm in the Devon family. Mr. Devon was rarely around—this is why his wife decided to start a business. He knew that Arthur strained everyone’s family relationships and so he just disappeared. It was as if his disappearance would take away the strained relations; it only made them worse. The children often found themselves ostracized from the rest. Bridget did the best she could—that’s why they had such a hard childhood—to make her kids perfect. So no one would look down on them. But in doing so, she strained her relationship with her children, further ostracizing them.
“So, uh, what do you want to eat?”
“Really? That’s all you can come up? Asking about breakfast. Did it ever occur to you that we actually never ate yesterday?”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“It was a Monday! You know I hate Mondays! And someone called me at two in the morning joking about this wolf-man thingy.”
“You never had to pick up.”
“My sister called! Of course I had to pick up!”
They left in the bright orange Jeep refusing to talk to each other to find a little café where they could have breakfast and a cup of coffee. Neither of them had realized how the verbal spar had brought them close to physically fighting. The entire time they were arguing they were walking in circles around the stained oak table. If it weren’t for the table they would have left the house with a couple of bruises and maybe a black eye—they haven’t broken any bones in a fight yet. Arthur and Mille could be quite vicious. A coffee would fix things. At least that’s what Arthur thought. Coffee always fixed his issues. A good talk over a good coffee, practically impossible to ruin something more, right?
“I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“You shouldn’t have been born.”
“Someone’s grumpy this morning.”
“Some of us aren’t obsessed with coffee.”
“A coffee a day keeps the doctor away.”
“It’s an apple a day keeps the doctor away.”
“Same difference.”
“No. It’s not.”
“You still haven’t forgiven me.”
“You still haven’t apologized.”
“I did too.”
“I didn’t hear any magic words.”
“Fine. Sorry.”
The sorry came out gruffer then Arthur intended it to but then again, he wasn’t used to saying sorry. He rarely apologized and when he did, he never meant it from the bottom of his soul. Although, he was never apologizing to the only person who got him. It was a new feeling to him. Arthur and Mille argued a lot but apologies were never needed. It was just something they both understood as forgiven and forgotten. This time though, he’d sensed that something was different. Something was wrong.
“I’m sorry. For everything.”
Mille understood what he meant but she still refused to accept his apology. She wanted to hear the words from his mouth. She wanted to have someone sooth her wounds. She wanted to feel loved. Arthur could do that if he chose to, he had done it often enough when they were kids. Memories of when they were younger and how he’d always stop to fix her issues and problems before looking at his own coursed through her. Mille couldn’t help it. Tears welled in her big hazel eyes. Life was so unfair. Why did college have to be what tore apart their relationship?
“Mille. I’m sorry. I really am. Don’t cry. You know I can’t take it when you cry.”
Arthur felt frustration well up inside as his own tears slipped down his face. Here they were sitting on the patio of a little café in a small town called Greenville in a state called Ohio far from the comfort of the city noises and the salty tang the wind carried as it swept inland from the bay. He had decided to take Mille on a trip to the opposite side of the United States because he saw that she needed a break from everything. From everyone. He didn’t expect to be sitting with his sister across from him in a small café in tears. It was the last thing he expected. He had expected her to bring up their family relationships but not theirs. Theirs wasn’t broken the way all the others were. There was just some slight disconnect. Yes, that was definitely it. Some slight disconnect. Arthur stared into his coffee as he started talking again, unable to keep the breaks out of his voice.
“I didn’t mean to leave you. If you had wanted me back I would have come running. It was hard. Really hard to leave you behind. No one wishes what we went through on anyone else. I wanted to carry it all. I thought that if I left that it would get better for you. That people wouldn’t hate you as much. You were never a mistake. I was an accident. A full-blooded accident. I broke up our entire family.”
The silence seemed exceptionally loud at eight in the morning.
“Saké. That’s my birth mother’s name.”
“After the fermented rice liquor?”
“My birth mother is named after a foreign alcoholic beverage. Haven’t you noticed how Mom avoids it? Its like it’s a plague, that’s how much she avoids it. I’ve asked Dad about it before. I’m not Japanese. He won’t tell me what I am, just that I’m half white and not Japanese. All of my official papers have my race down as other. Other! I don’t think you can understand how demeaning that is. For official documents not to be able to even provide a space for me to explain that I’m not sure of my own race, so I don’t have one. I’m just that. An other.”
The bitterness and self-loathing that had seeped into Arthur’s voice shocked Mille. Arthur was always Arthur. Sure his natural hair might be dark and his skin the opposite of pale but that never made him any less of a person. He wasn’t an “other” like he said. The venom with which he spit out the word “other” signified to Mille that this was something he thought about often. She really didn’t know much about her brother besides what he displayed on the outside. She thought she knew him better but it turned out that she didn’t. Just like how he didn’t know about her. About her girlfriend. About how she feels frustrated that her own brother and her girlfriend’s brother have both fallen head over heels for her girlfriend. But that was a can of worms for another time.
Mille sighed as she looked at the half eaten flakey pastries and her brother’s nearly empty coffee cup. She unlocked her phone to check her appearance; she didn’t want it to be obvious that she had just spent the last thirty minutes and two seconds in tears. Once Mille decided that as long as she kept her head down no one would really notice she brought the plates to the shop and gave them back, bagging the unfinished baked goods. Outside she pick-pocketed the Jeep’s keys from her brother before gently tugging him upright to take him back to the vehicle. He was in no shape to drive and as much as she hated it, she had to drive them back to the security of the cabin. A place where no one would question why they both had tear tracks running down their faces.
As her thoughts flew around her head like a whirlwind, Mille spotted a grocer. While she didn’t want to go in, she figured that going in now was better then having to leave the safety of the oak walls that built the cabin later that day because she was driven out by hunger.
“I’m going to run in. I’m going to grab us some foodstuffs. Will you be okay while I’m gone?”
She received no reply. Arthur’s head was leaned against the passenger side window.
“Artie, when we get back we’ll talk about it. I promise.”
Mille hadn’t known what to tell Arthur. How to explain to him that he’s so much more then an “other.” He’s Arthur Periwinkle Devon the New York Times Best Selling Author. But today, he was just Artie. He was just a boy with the same fears and insecurities as she. Although they weren’t exactly the same, some of them were similar.
Shopping was a mindless task. While she submitted herself to the monotony of the task she found herself wanting to beat Arthur over the head with a rolling pin. She used to whack him in the back of his head with the inflatable bat he’d won at a stupid carnival game when he’d infuriate her. A silly little childhood game they’d play. As they grew up it slowly changed into a reminder that they were worth it and they could get through anything as long as they were together.
“Excuse me miss. You can swipe your card now.” The teenaged cashier reminded Mille, jolting her out of her thoughts.
“Oh, sorry.” Mille’s cheeks turned a pale pink in embarrassment. It didn’t help that the cashier was cute.
“Had a bad day?”
The sympathy was all too obvious in the cashier’s voice. Mille’s cheeks turned a ruby red. “You could say so. It’s only nine thirty on a Tuesday morning yet the day has already turned sour.”
Mille saw the second and third glances the cashier made towards her debt card. She knew the question even before the cashier opened her mouth to speak. She sighed audibly and watched as the girl looked suitably embarrassed. She did not want to answer another question about Arthur this morning, well, it would be her first question about Arthur today. It was still exhausting to repeatedly tell people that she was his sister and that he was indeed single. While she knew it was rude she quickly took her bags and left without so much as a thanks. Mentally, she just wasn’t up for talking about Arthur with one of his many fans. She had to talk to the boy first.
———————————
“Artie, you can talk to me you know. Yeah, I don’t know what its like to not know your race but I’ll listen. I always have. You know that.”
Mille sat down on the steps to the cabin next to the boy. She was glad of her decision to put away the groceries before joining him. The foreseeable future held a long conversation that was going to last for hours because conversations like this always lasted for hours. Arthur wrapped her up in his arms and tucked her head under his own. Not only was this comforting for Mille, it was comforting for Arthur. He’d held Mille pulled in close more times then he cared to remember. Felt her tears wet his shirt as his own slid down to mix with her dirty blonde hair. It had turned a chestnut brown Arthur noted, reminding him of the passage of time.
Six years. Six years had passed before he’d realized it. Six years without Mille. The sobs he’d been trying to hold back slipped out. They sat there in each other’s arms and cried. Cried for nothing in particular and for everything at the same time. Cried for times they missed having each other’s company. Cried for when they were at their lowest and needed the support that came from having a sibling. And they cried for their broken relationships. But most importantly they cried because they were finally back together with five days before Mille needed to be on campus for college.
They were gifted five days to repair their relationship. Not a single second of those five days was going to be wasted, Mille was going to make sure of that. She was going to get her brother back.