Page 27 of The Upside of Falling
“A salad is good for me. I’ve had way too much junk food in the past couple of days. Thanks.”
Shuffling down the hallway of the quaint ranch house I grew up in, I make my way to my brother’s bedroom. The door is cracked open, never fully shut.It can never ever be fully shut.
Knocking, I call out, “Hey Bryan, it’s Rory. Can I come in?”
“Rory. Rory is here. Rory is here. Rory is here.” Repetition helps him ease his anxiety, and feeling like it’s okay, I step into his room. Sitting in the corner, rocking back and forth, Bryan—my older brother—is scrunched down, sitting in the blue egg chair he got from IKEA, listening to Credence Clearwater Revival, his favorite band. The music playing from his docking station is barely above a whisper, just the way he likes it. He doesn’t like loud noises, doesn’t like to be startled, and enjoys his peace.
I don’t blame him. I like peace just as much as he does.
“Bryan, how are you, bro?” I approach him from his front, never to the side, making sure he can see me. “Mom said you weren’t having a good day. I’m so sorry to hear that.” At thirty, Bryan struggles with autism. To say it’s been hard is an understatement. It’s put a strain on my parents’ marriage at times, it’s caused rifts between my parents and their families, and it was a major deciding factor that kept me from pursuing my dreams.
Despite the downfalls that come with the disorder, there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell I would do anything differently, because when I see that spark of recognition in my brother’s eyes, I know I’ve made a difference in his day.
I try to visit a few times a week, wanting to make sure he knows even though Mom and Dad made me move out, I’m still here for him. I will always be here for him, no matter what.
I can still remember the conversation like it was yesterday, when I told them I wasn’t going to New York, that I would stay and help them out. It was a rough patch in their marriage, a time where they were constantly fighting, and I knew if I left they wouldn’t still be together.
They weren’t happy with my decision but agreed with my choice. A week later, they made me find an apartment, somewhere I could call my own. They called it my chance to learn to be responsible and how to take care of myself, but I knew they were pushing me away intentionally. I knew their intent was to give me my own life, one that didn’t live and breathe my brother’s happiness.
Grabbing a blue marbled ball from his basket of balls, I sit across from him on the floor and bounce it a few times, “Fortunate Son” playing in the background. When he finally looks up—not making eye contact—I bounce it toward him, and then he whacks it back at me.
“Awesome!” I cheer, scooting backward. I didn’t realize how close I was and almost took a squishy ball to the tooth.
Getting in position, I bounce it again so he can whack it back at me.
It’s our game, one we could play for hours, one we’ve played for years. It’s simple, it’s easy, and it brings him joy. And any kind of joy my bright yet subdued brother experiences is something I want to impart.
Playing our game, I talk calmly in a soothing voice, a voice I’ve perfected over time through a lot of practice. “So I met this guy.” Bryan smirks and gets ready to hit the ball. “His name is Colby Brooks, and he is a cadet at the Air Force Academy. Isn’t that cool?”
Bryan makes an audible sound and slaps the ball at me.
“He wants to fly fighter jets one day. Can you believe that? A jet. Remember when we went to watch the Thunderbirds perform at the airfield?” Bryan nods. “Remember how loud those jets were? You wore those heavy-duty earphones so you weren’t scared. That’s what Colby wants to fly.” Technically he would be flying fighter jets, but I don’t want to confuse Bryan, so I keep it as simple as possible.
I toss the ball at him, only to catch it right away when he returns. “He’s really cute, Bryan. He has the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen, and when he looks at you”—I clutch the ball to my chest—“It’s so hard not to get lost in his gaze.” Bryan giggles. “Don’t you dare make fun of me.” I chuckle and bounce the ball at him. “I wrote him a letter a few days ago and gave him my number, hoping that maybe he’ll call me, or at least text.” I sigh. “But it’s been radio silence. Can you believe a guy doesn’t want to talk to your sister? Pish, what’s wrong with him, right?”
Bryan nods his head vigorously, I wait for him to calm down before bouncing the ball again. He’s not having a great day, but at least he’s reacting to my comments with humor.
“Your love for me is appreciated, bro.” Putting my fears out in the open, I say, “Maybe he just doesn’t care to know me or to get to know me. Maybe I’m just some annoying girl to him who he can’t shake. But you know what, Bryan? I could have sworn there was something between us. I guess my sensors are off. Maybe I liked him more than I thought and convinced myself there was more to us than there really was.”
When the words fall from my lips, the confession dampens my outlook, and even though I hate to admit it, I might be right. Maybe there was more to us in my mind than there actually was.
* * *
“No, do not come over here. I can’t handle your cheeriness,” I say into the phone, walking up the steps to my studio apartment.
“Come on, I promise I’ll be quiet the whole time. Just let me try on some dresses for my date tomorrow night.”
“Who are you going out with?” I ask, digging around in my purse for my key.
“A guy I met at the coffee house. He’s a musician.”
“What happened to Stryder?” I prop my phone between my cheek and shoulder and use both hands when I search through my purse for my keys. Damn it, where are they?
“Stryder never really made a move. I don’t have patience like you do, so I’m going out with coffee house guy now.”
“Stryder never made a move? That’s hard to believe.”
Stomping my foot, I set my purse on the ground and start digging through it just as the door to my apartment opens and Ryan stands above me, phone in her hand. Smiling innocently, she says, “I was kind of banking on you saying yes.”
