Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
I wanted to shake him and hug him, both at the same time, desperate for my brother to see the truth in my words, as well as my truth in the letter.
“I’d broken down, Michael. I know that.”
“HAVE, Julian. HAVE,” he interrupted. “You’re not any better! That much is clear based on the girl who just left this place. Whisky or not. You’re still ill.” His tone changed. His jaw trembled again. Finally, the core of the emotion rose to the surface. “We would have helped, if we’d known, but we didn’t. Everyone was angry, nobody understood, but we get it now. You’re sick. You have problems. You need professional help. And we’ll be here for you, all of us.”
I put my hand on his arm, wishing I was still the man who’d have curled up and taken on any conditions to get back to my family. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sacrifice the girl downstairs for another pack of lies.
“That’s not what I said in the letter, is it? I didn’t say I have problems. I said I’m sorry. I admit, I’ve done some appalling things, and I’ve hurt people more than deserves forgiveness, but that’s what I’m asking for. Forgiveness.”
“And what we’re offering you is HELP.”
The kettle boiled, but I didn’t make the coffee, just stared at him.
“Help?”
“YES!” he said. “HELP!” He put the letter down on the side, and held out his hands in a gesture of care that choked me up. “Come with me, now. Come with me and leave this shit hole behind, and we’ll get you sorted, or we’ll try. We can put you into therapy and rehab, and Katreya says she’ll have you back, with an awful lot of conditions, albeit, but it’s a start. That shows how much you mean to us, doesn’t it? That shows how much we care.”
Yes, it did. Again, I was choked up. I had to battle to speak.
“I’m very honoured, truly. But I don’t need rehab, or a therapy ward, Michael. And Katreya definitely doesn’t want me back, she never wanted me in the first place.”
“Stop it!” he said. “Stop it and listen to me. You’re ill. You just don’t know it. You’re very, very ill!”
I gestured to the letter on the worktop. “Have you read that? Really?”
“Yes, of course I have. I’ve read every word a hundred times over, but that’s your version of reality, it’s not taking into account illness, or mental health problems, or how they are most likely a hell of a lot more impactful than you wanting to fuck your students. Alcoholism is a great thing to admit to, it really is. We always struggled to get you to see that, but in the other areas, the sexual deviances… you’re still under an illusion. You clearly don’t have the capacity for restraint, but we can help with that. Professionals can help with that.”
My brother was trying to be kind. It was nice to see. His eyes were the same colour as mine and I could read his expressions like my own. He seemed even bigger than me now, in the boxed in space of the kitchen. I was lithe in comparison to the bulk of him, but once upon a time we’d been a couple of boisterous youngsters, battling on the rugby field at high school.
He cared about me. Despite the circumstances. It was more than words could say, and more than I could have ever hoped for.
“Come with me, please,” he said again. “Just grab a few things and come with me. We have somewhere lined up that can take you, if you’ll sign yourself in. A residential rehabilitation facility. Katreya has found you the best, I swear. They’ll be able to fix things.”
It would have been so easy to buckle, and promise anything, and agree to any conditions in the world to go along with him, and see Grace, and Ryan, and Emily. Even Katreya. My old home, and our dog, and my old life. Everything I ever stood for. But I couldn’t do it under the pretence of another round of lies. I reminded myself of that again as I looked at him.
“I don’t need fixing,” I told him. “I need forgiveness.”
“YOU NEED FIXING, JULIAN! You need HELP!”
“Help from what?” I asked. “From Rosie, you mean? The woman I live with?”
He put his hands in his hair at that.
“Woman? You call that girl a woman?! She’s barely fucking legal!”
“That’s very true, yes. But she’s a woman, and I love her.”
“Love her.” He closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. “So, you won’t accept you have predatory sexual urges and need help? Please see some fucking sense, will you? We’re all behind you. I had to virtually beg Grace and Ryan to stay away from this visit, because I didn’t know what the hell state you’d be in, and it’s damn well good I did. Or they’d have seen that poor little girl running away from you, too.”