Took me forever to write this. Hope you enjoy.
{ Cal }
"Ethan? Ethan, please! Just pick up the phone, will you?" I half-sob, my breath coming in frustrated little gasps," Please, I want to talk to you - properly. I want to see you. I want to know you're okay. That's stupid, I know you're not okay. But that's exactly why I have to see you! Please, Ethan. Please don't leave me."
The twenty-eighth voicemail. Pleading, begging, shouting, screaming, whispering, promising, hoping, wishing – I've tried it all. What more can I do?
I peel the sticky-with-salt-water-that-may-or-may-not-be-from-my-eyes phone from my cheek and wipe the screen with my sleeve. The action only manages to smear the tears across the screen, leaving it a mess.
Another loud sob rattles through me as I stare at the un-relenting darkness of the mobile screen - because it all hurts, it all hurts so much. I want Ethan to be here, to reassure me; for me to reassure him; for us to reassure eachother. I don't know where he is, and it scares me.
Is there someone who'll help him if he needs it?
How do I know he's okay?
I collapse against the kitchen work-top, my legs refusing to hold my weight. My back slides down the sleek surface, lowering me to the floor. The joints in my knees crack and complain as they are relieved of duty. I gulp as my mind races with a million and one thoughts of my brother. One minute he's a toddler running after me; the next he's a grown man being rolled into the hospital after being involved in a car crash that took the life of a paramedic; a completely made up picture of him dozing in the Australian sun; the feeling of his arms around me as he tells me I'm not alone; the look of anger on his face as I tell him that I stole his money; his dissapointment when he didn't get the present he wanted for Christmas when he was six; the look on his face when he found it later in the hall; the thought of him running towards me, excited to see me after a long day at school, telling me I'm the best brother ever; the thought of him stalking away from me, after telling me that he's no longer my brother. I stop and shiver - the thought of never seeing him again.
What do I do? What if he's thinking about moving away? He wouldn't, surely, not with all this to sort out. My stomach twists as I think of all the times I've left him in the lurch. Maybe he's decided he's had enough and is going to do the same. Although it would hurt, I can't say I would blame him. The twist in my stomach tightens as I wonder if he'd leave me. I've never been so afraid at the thought of losing someone. Not Taylor, not Katya, not baby Matilda, not even Mum. Me and Ethan have been through so much together, that I can't handle the idea of not being able to see him, not being able to talk to him, not being able to love him a big brother should love his baby brother.
More tears rise and fall as I wonder if he'll ever want to be my baby brother again.
When I've finally got my crying back under control, I try ringing again. The dialling tone drums boringly, until it finally lets up to Ethan's cheery voicemail.
"Hi, you've reached Dr. Ethan Hardy. I'm afraid I can't come to the phone right now, but leave a meessage and I'll get back to you."
"Ethan. I know you don't want to talk. To be honest, this isn't something I want to talk about either. But we have to. You know we do." I pause," It's going to be okay, Nibbles. I promise."
I put the phone down, staring into the distance outside of the window. I can see the hospital from here. The hospital where I work with my brother.
"I'm not your brother anymore."
He hates me. He really does.
Some deluded part of me had honesty-to-godly believed that when I told Ethan the truth, he would forgive me for hiding it. I had hardly dared to think it. That's just a dream, now. A stupid idiotic dream.
Ethan may talk to me again, he may help me to sort things out, he may even come to consider Emilie as family. But I don't know if he'll ever love me again. Although part of me wants to pull away from him, to show him that two can play that game, I can't. I can't stop myself from loving Ethan.
I move into the living room half an hour later and flop exhaustedly onto the settee. My face contorts into a wince at the sensation of my bitten nails catching the material of my jeans. Me and Ethan had always practised the bad habit of nail biting. Dad always blamed me for Ethan doing it, claiming I was a bad influence – maybe he was right. I always assumed we got it from Mum – Matilda – but, obviously not.
I wish Ethan would just pick the phone up. I can imagine our conversation. Or my side, at least. I had it all planned out in my head. I needed to apologize first and foremost. Then I'd explain exactly what happened and I'd reassure him if he needed reassuring. Beg him to come home, if I had to.
The flat seems colder lately. It's like there's constantly an empty space in whatever I do. I don't have Ethan to wake me if I need waking. I don't have to think about whether or not there is enough cereal in the packet for two in the morning. I don't have him to nag me about my driving on the way to work. I don't have him to worry about if he happens to be little late coming back from his shift without me on a Wednesday. I don't have to wait for him to come home to eat my tea. I don't have him to talk to, which is the thing I miss the most. Talking to Ethan doesn't feel like talking to anyone else. Mum always said we seemed to speak in our own language, complete with inside jokes that only we could understand. I actually look forward to going into work nowadays, which makes a change. Ethan may be icy with me and refuse to talk to me, but at least I know he's safe and healthy, if he can't be happy.
That's it. I'm calling him again. My attempt seems to be going pretty much the same as the others until the last ring. Which is when I hear it: a click as the phone is picked up.
"Hello?"
So, who do you think it is? Ethan? ED Staff Member? Stranger?
No, seriously, who do you think it is? I have some half baked ideas about it being Ethan or a stranger, but who do you guys think it should be?