Chapter 25 - Garrett and I
Brothers did not return to normal.
Normal had contained too much silence.
We built something else.
At first:
Birthdays only.
Then coffee.
Then one hike.
We spoke about Rowan eventually.
Not details at first.
I asked:
“Did you love her?”
Garrett took time.
“I cared about her.”
“Did she love you?”
“I don’t think so.”
That helped and hurt.
“What was it?”
“Two unhappy people during separations.”
No romantic destiny.
Good.
Then:
“Did you ever wish she chose you?”
“When she said she was pregnant, maybe for five minutes.”
I stared.
“Then?”
“I thought about Dana. Owen. You.”
“And Sorrel?”
“He wasn’t Sorrel yet.”
There.
Embryonic abstraction.
Then birth.
“I saw him at Christmas.”
Sorrel was four months.
“What did you feel?”
Garrett cried.
“Terrified.”
“Love?”
“Something.”
“And you stayed away.”
“Yes.”
Cowardice.
But maybe also respect for my parenthood.
Both.
He said:
“I convinced myself staying away was the least harmful thing.”
“Maybe it was at first.”
He looked surprised.
“But insulting him later wasn’t.”
“No.”
“Letting Mom reject him wasn’t.”
“No.”
“Calling him not blood.”
“No.”
We sat.
No forgiveness ceremony.
Then:
“I don’t know if I’ll ever trust you like before.”
“I know.”
This time it meant acceptance.
Not dismissal.
We continued hiking.
Sometimes family survives with reduced certainty.
May you like
That can still be family.
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