Page 15 of Goldilocks

“Let me see.”

“I didn’t burn myself.” Eric shoved harder, and Ivan fell away from him.

“Alright, alright. Such an uncool big brother,” Ivan teased. “Your head feeling alright, Sam? Headache still there? Gone?” He walked to the sink, set aside his cup and filled a pint glass with water.

Sam walked toward them, still slightly groggy. “My head feels fine,” he answered.

Ivan handed him the glass and Sam downed almost the entire thing at once.

“Why don’t you take a seat? Dinner’s almost done.” Ivan nodded Sam toward the small connected living room. Sam collapsed onto the couch, sinking into the cushions with heavy limbs. Ivan joined him with a topped-up glass of water.

“Have you been to the doctor about your headaches?” Ivan asked.

“I’ve been checked out,” Sam said. He’d gone in for another check-up during the summer, explaining how they’d been increasing in frequency, but apparently aside from low blood sugar, there was nothing wrong with him physically.“There’s nothing they can give me for it except painkillers.”

“Are they usually that bad?” Ivan asked next.

Sam hadn’t ever had a headache that bad. “Not usually, no.”

“Maybe you need another check-up?” Eric suggested as he entered the room with a plate. “I got headaches until I was…” His gaze darted to Ivan. “When did they stop?”

“When you turned eighteen. You were getting them for a solid two years after you moved in with me,” Ivan answered.

Sam accepted the plate Eric handed him. Pasta bolognese. It smelled homely.

“I haven’t had one in years. But you’re older than I was when mine stopped.” Eric frowned as he sat opposite Sam. He stared at Sam, obvious worry in his eyes. Eric seemed to be constantly worried or upset or angry or bitter. Sam wondered if he was ever content or happy, or was this anxiety always present? It seemed as exhausting as it did constant.

“I’m telling you, it’s something genetic,” Ivan said. He pointed at Eric. “I used to practically strap you down. I was scared you would damage yourself, grabbing your eyes like that. And Sam, looked to me like it was your eyes that were the problem too.”

“I guess.” Sam forked up a mouthful of pasta bolognese, thrilled to find the hot meal tasted as good as it smelled.

“Have you ever gotten your eyes tested? I made Eric get an exam years ago, but they told him his vision was fine.”

“I’ve gotten them checked before. They’re fine,” Sam said. To get the dyslexia diagnosis, he’d gone through several doctors and assessments. His vision was 20/20 at every turn; his ability to read letters was temperamental. Although he needed to go in for a check-up because he was sure that his dyslexia was getting worse. Even the past few days had been more difficult than usual. The thing was, Sam didn’t know if it was because he’d gotten worse or because he’d started working on midterms and was noticing it more.

“Sorry for knocking you out, by the way,” Ivan said. “Eric gave out to me tons already, but I’m happy to listen to another lecture if you want to be angry with me too.” He grinned, and Sam got the impression Eric’s lecture hadn’t bothered him in the slightest.

“It’s alright.” Sam put his fork down into the empty bowl. “I think it helped more than anything.” If the pills hadn’t knocked him out in a wave of drowsiness, he’d almost be tempted to ask if Ivan would part with a handful.

“Are you still hungry? There’s more.” Eric eyed Sam’s empty dish.

“No, I’m good. And I should get going.” Sam stood up. “I was supposed to swing by Dad’s and bring him lunch and dinner.”

Eric’s fingers tightened around his own ceramic bowl of dinner. “We did that already.” He glanced at Ivan, who raised an eyebrow, then looked back to Sam. “I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t go in or anything; Ivan did it for me. He brought him some groceries. Enough for a few days of meals. For both of you.” Eric spoke in quick, clipped sentences.

Sam stared at him, his heart rate picking up to beat in double time. A wave of heat, something that felt like panic, swept through him. It overwhelmed him. Confused him.

“I told him I was your friend,” Ivan said. “Not sure that death stare is fair on Eric, is it?”

Sam had no idea what sort of expression he had on, but obviously it wasn’t anything pleasant, given that Eric had been struck mute. He forced his gaze away from Eric. Made himself look at Ivan. “It was okay?”

“Everything went perfectly fine,” Ivan confirmed. There was something odd about the way he was looking at Sam. Something pointed. Seeking. His caramel-brown eyes didn’t convey a hint of warmth. “Why wouldn’t it?”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “He gets confused a lot.”

“What does that look like?” Ivan asked. His gaze was merciless.

“What does confusion look like?” Sam’s voice flattened.