The Little Things

The little things are the best and worst things.
It was nice when my father bought me flowers when I had my first breakup, or when my best friend came over and watched movies all day when I was sick. Or when you saw a flower in the middle of a sidewalk, or looked up at the night sky.
Sometimes it has the opposite effect. Like when I smell my brother's cologne, or when I see somebody wearing the shoes he was wearing, or even, sometimes, when I watch Law and Order.
It made me sick to my stomach. It made my heart beat out of my chest, faster than a race horse. It made my hands shake, and my knees weak. It made my thoughts get jumbled up and incoherent in my head, much less thinking about saying anything aloud.
The little things sent me spiraling into panic.
It made me think that maybe it was a good thing I hadn't told anybody, but now I was waiting to see him for the first time in ten years. Now the same feeling was back, the same panic, the same incomprehensible fear.
I was twenty-four, but I felt like a child.
I knew he wouldn't do anything. I knew he probably wouldn't even talk to me, aside from greetings, solely to please Momma. She wanted all of her children under her roof for Christmas.
This was, most likely, her last Christmas, so I couldn't have refused. It would have been selfish.
I heard his truck pull into the driveway and listened to it idle for a moment before the ignition was cut off. I took in a sharp breath, but all I could smell was his cologne. All I could feel were his hands in places a brother's hands should never be.
"Are you okay, honey?" My husband asked.
We had been dating when it happened. He'd put up with my seemingly random breakdowns. He'd changed his shampoo without question when I'd insisted upon it through gasping sobs. He'd done it that night. I loved him, but I wouldn't tell him. I couldn't.
I stood up quickly from the couch, standing partly behind my husband.
The front door opened, and I heard my brother's familiar voice call out, "Mom? Dad? I'm home."
I heard his familiar footfall. I had spent many nights as a teenager waiting for him to come quietly down the hallway, knock softly on my door, and come in to tell me about his night. Then it had happened, and the sound struck me with inconceivable panic.
"I... I have to pee." I blurted out, and rushed to the bathroom.
I knelt down beside the toilet, pulling my hair back as I gagged. I hadn't eaten all day, though, so I didn't have anything to throw up. I closed the lid and leaned my head against the cool metal, taking deep breaths.
I heard him in the living room, talking to my father. I heard him greet my husband. They hadn't talked since my freshman year of college.
I should have told somebody when I had the chance. But I hadn't, so I stood up and turned on the sink. I stared at myself in the mirror for a moment before washing my hands and turning off the water. The dark circles under my eyes stood out magnificently against the paleness of my drawn face.
I went out to the living room where everybody was waiting. I dropped my eyes to the floor as I walked past my brother. I felt my skin crawl as I felt him watching me. I smelled his cologne. He had changed it sometime in the past several years, but if you asked me, he still smelled the same. I saw myself....
No. I wouldn't think about it. I would suppress it and get through dinner for Momma. Then I could go home, and I would see him at her funeral, and I wouldn't see him again until Daddy died, and that should be a long time away.
I had forgiven him. I'd forgiven him years ago, but it was easier to forgive someone when you never had to see them. I felt like a frightened child.
I sat down on the floor by the fire. It was warm, and it felt like the adult equivalent of a teddy bear. My husband put his arm around me and pulled me to his side. It was more comforting than the fire.
He wouldn't do anything. Not here, not now, and probably not ever, but I didn't want to go as far as saying that. If he were to do anything here--if my father or my husband had known, for that matter--he would be used for target practice. I knew that. I knew that I was perfectly safe. But that didn't stop it from happening over and over in my head.
"All right, everybody." Daddy said, snapping me from my flashback. "Let's eat."
I looked down, and my brother was wearing the same shoes.