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Not my brother.
My cousin.
Patrick:Where are you?
Patrick:Kids are waiting.
Patrick: Game’s about to start.
Patrick:WTF?
Patrick:Why aren’t you answering?
Shit.
It’s 9AM on a Sunday.
I was supposed to be up hours ago.
Picking up kids in the company van.
Our standing order at Benny’s.
Feeding them and leading them through some pre-game drills. Clapping and coaching them through their game.
Another text comes through. Patrick again.
Patrick:Are you okay?
This isn’t like you.
He’s right. It’s not.
Every Sunday. Like clockwork.
I keep a schedule. A routine.
I have dozens of them.
Things I do. Places I go.
I’m not impulsive.
I don’t deviate.
I don’t give myself choices.
Because when I do, I make the wrong one.
Every. Single. Time.
Like buying Tess black lace lingerie.
Answering the door when she showed up last night.
Getting her naked.
Tongue fucking her.