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Alan - Age 21

M y little brother snaps his fingers beside my face, annoying me like always. “Alan. Hey, Alan . Are you listening to me?”

My focus jerks away from my computer screen. “What do you want, you little shit turd?”

Daniel juts his lip into a pout. “Are you gonna be on that stupid thing all night?”

His begging doesn’t work on me like it does our parents. They’re suckers.

“What’s it to you?”

When I return my focus to my chat, the little shit hovers his extended index finger a few inches over my face. I bat it away. Twice.

He’s so fucking irritating. Our four-year difference might as well be a hundred.

“I’m so freaking bored. Let’s go see a movie or maybe go swimming.” He drags his palms down his cheeks, stretching his face longways. “I want to do something. Anything . I’m going stir crazy in here.”

I gesture an open palm toward the AOL chat room on the screen of my shiny new computer. “I’m talking to my friends. If you had friends, you could do the same. But you don’t. ’Cause you’re lame. Now, get out of my room before I whoop your ass again.”

He scoffs, flopping down on the beanbag chair in the corner. “Whatever.”

I should kick him out, but at least he’s being quiet. For once. After flipping him off, I return my attention to the screen and wait for Robbie’s reply.

Mom and Dad bought me a top-of-the-line home computer before leaving on yet another vacation. Without us. It’s a bribe to get me to watch Daniel. I was fourteen when they started leaving me alone. However, at seventeen, precious little Daniel is still too delicate.

Knowing why he’s that way does little to ease my irritation at always being his designated babysitter, whether I like it or not.

I almost had my folks talked into buying me a new car for my troubles this time. Perhaps next trip. They can afford it, and the gifts ease their guilt over being gone most of the time. It’s a win-win.

Daniel’s been pouting ever since I set up the computer a few days ago. Not sure why he’s so crabby about it since he got my old one. A hand-me-down computer is better than nothing.

Then again, it’s not like he can do much on it when I’m using the phone line. Plus, he’s not a social kid, so he’d probably just play Sims all day on it rather than interacting with other humans.

The two-note bloop sound crackles from the speaker, signaling my friend’s reply and spiking my heart rate. Robbie has another chat room open with a girl he met a few nights ago at the club. Apparently, she has a hot-as-hell friend.

I didn’t go out with my friends that night because Daniel was up my ass. Much like he is tonight.

Robbie got some action while I was playing fucking board games with my brother.

Not tonight, though.

Looks like I get to pick them up in about an hour. Since I have the keys to Dad’s Jaguar, getting some ass is practically a given. It’s a four-wheeled panty-dropper. One of the perks of being a rich kid with in-and-out parents.

Maybe I can bribe Daniel to stay the fuck in his room tonight when we get back with the girls. Robbie lives in the sketchy part of town, so his place is out of the question. No girl would put out in that shithole.

I type out my reply, then power down the computer. Jumping up from my desk, I scan my bedroom. A bit messy for company. In a mad rush, I dump all the soda cans and half-eaten bags of chips into the trash can, then straighten the comforter on my bed. Gathering up the dirty socks and a still-damp pair of swim trunks from the floor, I toss them in the hamper and sniff the air.

Shit . That’ll never do.

Darting into the hall bathroom, I return with a can of air freshener and blast the shit out of my room.

Daniel feigns coughing, waving his hand in front of his face. “Why are you cleaning? Olga will be here on Monday.”

I toss on a new shirt, then hit my chest and crotch with a few sprays of CK Eternity. “Yeah, but I’ve got plans tonight that involve another female in this room. Or maybe two. Who knows how this will go?”

“Oh really?” he asks, brows raised and a hint of hopefulness coloring his tone. “How many girls are coming here? And how old?”

I shake my head. “No way, bro.”

“What? I like girls too.”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t, but these are women. Not little girls.”

“Like old women?” he taunts. “How much older? Like Mom’s age?” He cups his hands in front of his chest. “Saggy boobs and all?”

“Don’t be skeevy. They aren’t old. They’re just too old for you.”

“Maybe one of them has a younger sister. Did you ask?”

“Listen, kid. It ain’t happening. Helping my little brother lose his virginity isn’t on the to-do list Mom left me. Go fuck your fist until you can bag a chick of your own. Don’t forget the lotion.”

He shrugs, clicking his tongue. “Maybe I’ll take your girl.”

For being a shithead, he’s got moxie. I’ll give him that much.

“As if,” I drawl, impersonating the hot blond chick in that stupid movie to hopefully get a laugh out of him.

“Yet I’m the lame one,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes overdramatically.

I extend my hand toward him to help him off the beanbag. “Come on. Out of my room. I need to go, or I’ll be late. I’ll leave you some pizza money. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

After he rises, he stomps his foot. Classic Daniel . “Come on, Al. Can I go with you? Please. ”

“No way.”

Some of his broodiness fades, dread replacing it. “Don’t leave me here alone. I hate being in this huge fucking house by myself. It’s creepy. Especially at night.”

“You’re such a... shit,” I mutter under my breath, thankfully managing to choke back the chicken I’d wanted to inject before the word shit . It’s not his fault he’s scared of his own damn shadow.

He plants his feet in front of me, holding his hands in prayer position. “I’ll be cool. I promise.”

Highly unlikely. Daniel’s cool factor is far below sea level.

Nonetheless, I’m starting to cave to his begging. For all my bluster, I love my brother. We used to be close. Now? We’re at different stages in life. He’s still in high school, and I just turned twenty-one. The list of things we have in common is smaller than a pen tip.

Dialing back my annoyance, I explain, “I’m sorry. I can’t bring you. What if we go to the club? You aren’t old enough to get in.”

“Just have Robbie get me a fake ID. He said he could.”

I shuffle behind my brother, grab his scrawny shoulders, and shove him toward the door. “Robbie talks a lot of shit. He can’t get you an ID. Trust me.”

“Dad said he’s nothing but trouble. If Robbie can’t get me one himself, he probably knows someone who could.”

My head kicks back, and my feet stutter a step.

Oblivious to my reaction, Daniel continues. “And he’ll do anything for a few bucks. Besides, have you seen his shoes? We’d be doing him a favor by letting him earn some cash.”

My head kicks back. “Dad said that about Robbie?”

“Yeah. He also told me to tell him if Robbie comes over here, but I didn’t rat you out. Because I’m a good brother. Unlike you, who wants to leave me alone. At night.”

An uncomfortable sensation starts in my gut and twists steadily back and forth. Something about this doesn’t sit right with me.

My father’s a damn good judge of character. Maybe he’s right about Robbie. Does he see something I don’t?

Nah . Robbie’s become a close friend over the last year. I’m just being paranoid. I’d know if he were up to no good, especially right under my nose. Like my father, I’ve always been able to read people.

Once I finally get my whiny brother into the hallway, he shakes out of my grasp and faces me. “Alan, I don’t want to stay home alone. What if I have a nightmare?”

“Then don’t go to sleep,” I snap without thinking.

His face grows deadly serious, and he drops his shame-filled gaze to the carpet. “You know those don’t only happen when I’m sleeping.”

Fuck .

Daniel had his first break with reality when he was about six years old. We were watching Saturday morning cartoons, and he kept answering questions I didn’t ask. I don’t remember what his words were, but he made no sense. At one point, he glanced over his shoulder at me, his eyes glazed in sheer panic. He bolted from the room, screaming bloody murder. Mom thought I’d done something to fuck with him, but I was just sitting there the whole time.

Once he was calm enough to talk, she brought him back in to explain what was wrong. The sheer terror in his eyes will haunt me forever.

To this day, he swears that an ax-wielding madman was standing right behind me. That’s who he was talking to, only he didn’t know the man had a weapon until the commercial break when he finally turned around.

Freaked me the fuck out.

Sadly, it wasn’t the only time that happened. It’s been more than ten years of this shit. He can go weeks without one or have them back-to-back-to-back. Some of the episodes last for days. Others a few minutes.

No rhyme or reason.

While they aren’t always violent or scary, he can’t discern between the hallucination and reality. He doesn’t just see things that aren’t there, he feels them. Hears and smells them too. When he was little, the best way to explain it to him was to call them nightmares that he had while awake. He still calls them that, even though we know they’re part of his mental illness.

As I probe deep into his eyes, I see beyond the typical younger brother behavior. He’s not acting this way for attention or to annoy me.

He’s scared to stay alone. Wholeheartedly frightened to his core.

So I cave. Partially .

“Fine, kid. Listen. Although you can’t come with me, Robbie and I will come straight back here as soon as we get the girls. This way, you won’t be alone for too long.”

His fidgeting hands crawl to the bottom hem of his shirt, and he starts plucking at the fabric. “It’s already dark. What if?—”

“Don’t be paranoid,” I warn, keeping my tone flat to instill some confidence. “You’re gonna be fine. You got this.”

“How long will you be gone?”

I clap him on the upper back, offering a bit of comfort with a half hug. “An hour tops.”

“You promise?”

Resigned to hurry home to him, I nod solemnly. “Yeah, buddy. I promise.”

Nibbling his lower lip, he darts his eyes around the hallway. “What should I do while you’re gone?”

“Call in a pizza order and watch some TV. By the time the delivery guy gets here, we’ll be back.”

“K. Then what?”

I stifle a frustrated groan. “We’ll have pizza with you. Order enough for all of us. I’ll let you hang out with us for a while, but the second I give you the signal, you say good night and go to bed. And then stay in your room.” I slant my head to the side, narrowing my eyes at him. “Don’t fuck this up for me. Screw my chance with this girl, and I’ll make your life hell.”

He agrees with an unsteady nod, reaching deep to gather his courage. A hint of his playful side creeps to the surface. “I thought you said she was a woman .”

Chuckling, I scruff his shaggy brown hair. “Smart-ass.”

As I breeze through the house checking for anything lying around that might embarrass me, I pause at the door to my father’s study. That prickly feeling from earlier returns, starting in my gut and branching outward. The longer I stand there, the more it spreads until it’s filling my chest.

Like always, Daniel’s hovering, so I blow it off as simple annoyance. More than likely, I’m worried about him fucking up my chance to score tonight.

I swipe the car keys off the hook and march swiftly toward the front door. Daniel stomps behind me, not even a foot between us. With each step, his breathing grows louder and shakier. He sounds like he’s having a damn asthma attack.

Is he gonna be okay?

Again, I shake off the looming dread.

He’s fine. It’s only an hour. And he’s seventeen damn years old.

I twist the doorknob. “See you in an hour, buddy.”

He stops me with a rough grip on my forearm, and his voice quavers. “Alan, wait. Please don’t go.”

Fucking hell.

My teeth clank and grind, and I force out a calming breath. I don’t want to jump his case for being how he is.

But I also didn’t sign up to be his caregiver while my parents sail the fucking Caribbean or wherever the hell they are this time. This shit is so unfair.

If I take him with me, there’s zero chance we’ll get the girls back here. How would that play out?

Hey, come hang out with me and my kid brother. Promise he’s not as annoying as he looks. And he won’t stare while we make out. Much.

Yeah . That’ll go over like a brick to the head.

At least if I get them back here first, he can go to his room and I can restore the mood.

With an irritated flourish, I jerk my arm free. “I said I’ll be back in an hour.”

Using a double grip this time, he grabs hold of me and squeezes the shit out of my arm. “ Alan, please . Let me come with you.” The tremble in his hands and voice almost makes me fold.

Almost.

But I don’t.

I’ve already conceded enough for him for tonight. And over the last ten years.

Instead, I brush him off me one final time and storm out the door. Pausing on the front porch, I grab my wallet and hand him a few bills. “Here. Pizza money. One hour. That was the deal. You’ll be fine.”

The keys weigh heavy in my hand, but the guilt in my chest over leaving him behind is far heavier. The lead brick sinking in my stomach doesn’t help.

When I lock up behind me, he moves to the floor-length glass panel on the side of the door. His flat palms press on the glass, and he spears my chest with his forlorn gaze.

Tears finally spring free, pouring down his face.

He cries out my name. Again and again.

“Alan. Alan, please. Alan. Alan. Come back, Alan. Alan.”

With swagger I haven’t earned and regret clogging my airway, I simply walk away.

After all, an hour isn’t going to kill him.