Undersold(54)

Our orgasms finished, we laid on my childhood bed, sweating and spent, enjoying each other’s bodies in the post-orgasm glow. He reached up and touched my face.

“I love you, Amy. You’re mine for as long as I live.”

I looked back into his eyes. “I love you too. I’m always yours.”

We laid there for what seemed like hours and breathed in each other’s smells and bodies, content.





26.


We showered in my old bathroom, and dressed again. It was strange, having Shane in that room, but his body and confidence filled the house and made it feel right where a day ago it felt empty and barren. We laid down on the bed again, fully dressed, and looked up at the ceiling together.

“I have some things to tell you,” he said quietly.

“You don’t have to anymore,” I answered.

He looked over at me and smiled. “That only makes me want to tell you more.”

I took his hand in mine. “I don’t care anymore, Shane. I really don’t. I just want you, who you are, not what you were. I want to be yours.”

“I know. And you are. But it’s time you understood where my need for control comes from.”

I nodded and didn’t answer. If he wanted to tell me, I’d let him.

“I have a brother. This all started when my father died. He was a strict man, and a drinker, which made him into an abusive man. He never hit me or my mother, but for some reason he always took his aggression out on my brother. We tried to protect him, but my father was bigger and angrier, and always got his way.”

He paused, and struggled with what to say next. I could see the tension in his face, and feel it in his body.

“After my dad died, things got better for a little while. But soon, my brother started acting out. He became friends with some bad people, started doing drugs. My mom and I, we didn’t know what to do. We couldn’t stop him. There was too much opportunity for trouble in the city, and my brother seemed like he needed to try it all. There were girls and drugs and more. As he went through high school, he was in and out of juvie, and eventually he dropped out of school completely.

“My mother was broken by it. She was working hard as it was, a single mom in the city, but my brother’s behavior set her completely off. I did what I could, helped out around the house, but it was never enough. Eventually, I got into college. Around this time, my brother more or less disappeared. I think he was living in New York for a year or two, but I have no idea what he did there.

“When he came back to Philly, he was different. He had been different for a while, but there was an edge to him. I was home for break during my Junior year of college, and my brother was coming in and out of my mom’s house, bringing around some pretty rough looking people. One night, he showed up drunk, and we sat on the front stoop. He told me he was deep in with some pretty intense people, selling drugs and running illegal fighting rings. He was stealing cars and more. I asked him why he was doing it, and he said it was the only thing he knew anymore. He said he was in too deep with violent people, and there was nothing left for him to do but give in and try to make it.

“That was the last time I talked to him. Two weeks later, he was arrested in connection with a murder. I don’t know the details, and I tried not to look into it too much. Apparently, he had been stealing cars for some time, and selling them to local chop shops. One night, someone got killed during one of his jobs, and he went to jail for it. He’s been in prison ever since.”

He stopped talking, his eyes a thousand miles away. I didn’t know what to say, so I squeezed his hand. He looked at me, and his face softened.

“Nobody knows about my brother because I work hard to keep it that way. You have no idea how many journalists, private detectives, and paparazzi I’ve paid off. Over a million dollars, at this point, in hush money. They’re like piranhas, they’re relentless bloodsuckers. I keep it out of the news because my mother is mortified of the truth. Most days, she pretends like it doesn’t exist. But sometimes she’s so distraught she can barely get out of bed. To this day, the idea that my brother may have murdered someone during a car robbery haunts her. I work hard and stay out of the spotlight to protect my mother.

“I strive toward perfection and control in everything I do. Otherwise, I become lax, and I fear making a mistake like my brother did. I want to make my mother proud, but more than that, I want to make up for all the bad my brother did. I want to bring some good into the world. Without control, we are nothing.”

“What happened between you and Janice?” I asked after a short lull.

“Ah, well. There wasn’t one thing. The stress of the job, the stress of keeping out of the spotlight, drove most of my friends away. Janice stayed, but things were strained between us. She never approved of my seclusion, and thought I was overreacting. But she never understood the pain it brought my mother, and how much I owed her for everything she did. My mom worked harder than anyone I know to raise the two of us, especially considering all the trouble my brother gave her. I now work to try and make her life as easy as possible, and to keep away as much pain as I possibly can. If that means alienating most of my friends and receding from public life to keep my brother’s story out of my news, then so be it.”