Page 39 of Trial and Error

I still don’t get it.

Mom is the healthiest person I know. She’s been a member at the wellness centre by her house for the past eight years and she never skips a morning session of yoga or her Pilates class that she takes four times a week. When Oscar and I were kids, she would always take us on hikes in and around North and West Vancouver, encouraging us to be as active as possible.

It’s why I was big on joining the lacrosse team when I was in high school, and why Oscar grew up loving soccer as much as he did. When we were in middle school, we both signed up for karate, and granted, at the time, we both hated it but it grew our strength and most importantly taught us discipline. Mom was a single parent for part of our childhood and raising two rambunctious boys was hard work, so getting us signed up to sports activities was the best way for us to expel the energy we had.

She did get lucky, though, that Oscar and I didn’t fight often.

Sure, we threw a few fists when we entered our teen years, the two of us getting fed up with sharing a small space, but we soon got over it. Even though there’s only four years between us, I spent a lot of my teenage years looking after him when Mom worked late, the two of us spending most of our time together. When I learned how to drive, it was me taking him to and from school, sports, and anything else he did in his free time. I didn’t mind, not when it made me feel so useful—not when it felt like I could take some pressure off my mom.

Oscar wasn’t old enough to remember our father as much as I did, and for that I’m thankful. He doesn’t have to remember the disappointment or the tears. Oscar doesn’t remember when he would go to the local sports bar when Mom was at work, leaving the two of us to fend for ourselves. Oscar was nine when he left, and to be honest, Frank leaving was the best thing he could’ve done for us.

He was never the father figure that we needed. In the beginning, Mom and him had been madly in love. High school sweethearts to the core, but a year after Oscar was born, both of Frank’s parents passed away, and he never recovered from it. I sympathize with him now, at the prospect of losing Mom, but Frank’s absence took its toll on her, and for that I’ll never forgive him.

Oscar didn’t really need him, though, because he had me.

My brother called me last night as soon as Mom had paid him a visit, and the two of us agreed to meet for lunch. It feels uncomfortable to meet him—not because I don’t want to see him, but because I have to tell him that Bridget and I are going ahead with the engagement, and I know he’s going to be disappointed in me.

Oscar is the last person I ever want to disappoint.

He’s already at the table in our favourite sandwich shop when I arrive. He’s not wearing a suit, so I assume he took the day off like I did. I rarely see my brother looking tired; even after raising a little ball of energy he’s always managed to look upbeat, but not today.

Oscar looks up from his phone as I approach the table and I see the sad tilt to his lips. “Morning.”

I take the seat opposite him and shrug off my jacket. The waitress comes over as soon as I’m seated and brings two mugs of coffee to the table. Oscar flips through the menu as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world, and I sit there and watch him, not knowing what to say. It dawns on me that he doesn’t know what to say either and we’re both waiting for the other to speak.

“So…” I sigh, my hands clasping around the warm mug in front of me.

Oscar looks up and closes the menu. “So…”

“How’re things?”

“Fantastic.”

“Oscar.”

“Elias.”

I sigh. “Can we act like adults for a minute?”

“I am,” he replies. “You asked a dumb question, so I gave an appropriate answer. How do you think I am? Mom told us she’s dying and that she doesn’t want to do anything to slow it down, and all I can think about is how much I wish she’s still going to be here to meet her grandchild.” His voice breaks as he speaks, and I tighten my grip on my coffee.

I’ve only seen Oscar cry twice in my life. The first time was when he was sixteen and had found out his girlfriend at the time had slept with his best friend. The second time was when Olivia was born.

“She’ll be here,” I tell him.

“You don’t know that.”

“I hope she is,” I correct myself, not wanting to make promising I can’t keep. “She won’t leave before the baby’s born, not if she can help it. She just wants us to be happy.”

My brother nods in agreement. “You said she came over in the morning?” I nod and look up to see a small smirk tugging at his lips. “A little birdie tells me you had company the other night.”

I roll my eyes. “Out with it.”

“Avery texted me telling me she met your fiancée Saturday night and that she went home with you.”

“A normal thing for an engaged couple to do.”

“Not a normal thing for two people who barely know each other, though.”