Because You're Different ✔

6. Friend

June

His door was slightly ajar. I hesitated, not knowing if this really was the best thing to do. Maybe he just wanted to be left alone. I didn't blame him, with what had happened in the kitchen not long ago. Finally, I understood why they never talked about their parents. They weren't dead, they weren't spies — they were simply assholes.

When I thought of my mom, I thought of her laugh, of her telling me how beautiful I was, of us singing in the car together, or preparing dinner. When I thought of my dad, I thought of his tight hugs, how he would call me his little bird, of him and his endless patience, spending hours and hours with me in the local pool because I'd said I also wanted to learn how to swim, just like the other kids.

Did Nathan even have fond memories of his parents, or had they always been like that? Cold and fake and judgy. How did they manage to raise these two amazing boys?

I knocked on his door. "Nathan?" No answer. "Nathan? Can I come in?"

All of a sudden, the door opened in full, and I startled, my fists clenching. I'd already explained to both of them I startled a lot, due to my disability, but he still said 'sorry' whenever it happened, like he could've prevented it. Luckily, he didn't seem to notice this time. He was a wreck, hair sticking in every direction, skin pale, eyes slightly puffy. Had he been crying? Maybe he didn't want me here. "Is everything okay? Did they — did they do anything?" He pinched his nose as if bracing himself for something.

"No, it's fine. They were just assholes in general, but I can handle that."

He smiled weakly, then stepped aside, letting me in. For some reason, something fluttered in my stomach when I entered his room. I'd never been there before. It was less messy than Sam's. Books and papers were spread out over a large desk sitting under a window, a few lost socks lay defeated on the floor, and a chair was full of jeans and shirts and the fancy blouses he wore when he had to attend lectures. But the bed was neatly made, and there was no dust or spider webs to be seen. His walls were covered in posters from his favorite bands, a few of Pearl Jam, and there was also a man with a guitar smoking a cigarette — he was very handsome, with long lashes and shoulder-length blonde hair. The guy and Nathan looked kind of alike.

I wasn't nervous at all, and it was a little strange. This was personal territory. I sat on the edge of his bed, sinking deeper into the soft mattress than I'd foreseen. If only I had a mattress like that. Nathan slumped down in his desk chair, not looking at me. Silence surrounded us, but I didn't know how to begin.

Then, out of the blue, he said: "Sorry."

"What for?"

Again, he ran his hand through his hair. "That you had to witness that. I wanted to call you guys before you arrived home, but...—" He didn't finish his sentence. His body was tense; I could see the muscles in his neck moving.

"It's okay. I'm glad I know now."

He looked up, lips slightly parted.

Maybe I hadn't phrased that the right way. "I always wondered why Sam's older brother took care of him, instead of his parents."

He didn't say anything. He clenched his fists, then relaxed them, then clenched them again, on and on and on. The silence didn't bother me. It was comforting, somehow. "I didn't want to end up like them, you know," he suddenly said, eyes focused on the floor. "And I was sure, if I just went to public school, I would turn out different. I was planning on moving far away the moment I became eighteen — but Sam..." He was struggling for words. Somehow, I felt it was best just to wait, to let him get it all out. "Sam is not like you and me. He's not a fighter. And he didn't want to go to boarding school — he wanted to be just like me. They blame me, of course."

"That's horrible," I said, and I had to repress the urge to throw myself on him and hug him to death. "But... you're studying to be — oh, wait..."

He sent me a joyless grin. "Yeah, exactly. If I wanted to stay and live in this house, I needed to at least study to be a lawyer, either at Berkeley or Stanford. But it's okay... If that's what I need to do to help Sam, it's okay."

"You sound like you need to convince yourself."

"I do, don't I?"

"But you're right. It's okay. You can't survive without family." I frowned. "Well, let's rephrase that into 'you can't survive without the people you love'. I'm pretty sure you're actually better off without your parents." I never thought I'd ever say that. My mom and dad meant the world to me. I didn't know what I'd do without them. "You're a wonderful brother, Nathan. Really. You've already done more than most would've done. Sam really looks up to you."

He didn't respond. I saw him thinking, deeply troubled, his fingers brushing his forehead. After what seemed like minutes, he glanced back up. "You're really good for him, too, you know? I'm glad you and him are friends. He needed that."

"Well, I don't know if you think you need one, but I'm pretty sure you and me are friends as well." Again, something stirred in my stomach, especially when his eyes found mine, and he smiled — the blue was laughing as well, and the something seemed to like it a lot. I smiled too, brightly, trying to keep in control of my nervous body. "After all, you're the only one I allow to open doors for me."

He chuckled. "Well, then I suppose I'm a lucky guy."

"Not really," I said, "but I guess that's what we've got in common, right?"

At that moment, the door was thrown open, and a red-faced Sam looked from Nathan to me. "How could you guys leave me alone with them? It's not fair!"

"Suck it up, Sam," Nathan said. "I've had to endure them four years longer than you did. It's your turn now."

Sam rolled his eyes, turning his attention to me.

"Don't look at me," I said. "They're not my parents."

"You wanna trade?"

"No, thanks."

"What kind of friend are you?"

I wanted to say something witty, but Nathan was faster: "The very good kind. Now, did you find out how long they're staying?"

While they moaned about their parents, a warm feeling spread its way through my body, relaxing me completely. It wasn't every day Nathan Redstone called you a friend, and for a short while, I actually felt like the luckiest girl in all of California — after all, I had my parents, and the rest of my family, and two friends who liked me just the way I was.