Shattered

Carter (e)

The barista-girl would be no problem.

Voices flooded around me. The grocery store was crowded with shoppers and crying toddlers alike, the whistle of my lopsided shopping cart that was missing a part of a wheel only made me stand out all the more. This was exactly what I didn't need.

I weaved down each aisle, ignoring the hushed whispers as I walked by. Pain throbbed in my temples, shutting my eyes against the influx of anxiety that settled inside of me.

But it was also the same time that my cart rammed into the back of someone's ankles, and a quiet gasp as the person spun around.

The middle-aged woman's eyes widened at the sight of me, but when I looked at her, something else caught my attention. Or rather, someone did.

"Watch where you're going." I spit out, my voice gravelly and low, but I was no longer looking at the woman.

People were beginning to take notice. And when I looked again, it took everything in me to keep the surprise at bay. My brother's lips tilted upward at the sight of me, and I watched with dread as he went to take a step towards me.

Without a second thought, I spun my cart in the opposite direction, willing the panic to subside as I retreated around the corner. I prayed that Thomas wouldn't follow me.

"Why are you running from me, Carter?"

I didn't get very far. His voice was so familiar, so smooth, even after all this time. I found myself stopping rather abruptly, and it was all I needed to cave into my brother's presence. I forced a scowl, turning to face Thomas with my heart pounding in my ears.

He came alongside of my cart, his fingers grazing the side absentmindedly. I watched him reach inside to grab the head of lettuce, could feel his eyes on me.

For a long and hard moment, neither of us spoke a word. People around us stared and pushed their carts unhappily around us, but I couldn't see them.

"Eight years..." Thomas mused. "Has it really been that long?"

I didn't say anything, couldn't bring myself to look at the stranger standing in front of me. Memories flooded through me, one after another like a punch to the gut. It has been eight years since Thomas and I had seen each other. Eight years since he up and left.

"What are you doing here?" I looked up then, and it took everything in me to keep my face emotionless, but the anger and confusion threatened to surface.

Thomas looked no different from the measly, twenty-year old kid I last saw. Maybe a little more bulkier and his hair a shade darker than the dirty blond that used to match mine.

"You haven't changed one bit, little bro—though maybe I would have expected a much warmer welcome and minus the hideous scar. What happened?"

The fingers that squeezed around my heart had no trouble lodging the air from my throat. I could see nothing but the stark memories of my childhood and a brother that should have been long forgotten.

I could see the engraving of a tattoo on the inside of Thomas's wrist, half covered by the sleeve of his leather jacket as he tossed the lettuce above his head. I couldn't make out what it read.

"What were you expecting, Thomas?" I snapped. "You don't exactly deserve the best brother of the year award."

Thomas only shook his head and laughed. "I didn't come here so you could tell me things I already know. I—"

"Tom! There you are!" A woman came running up to us, her eyes frantic as she grabbed onto my brother's arm.

"Daddy, daddy...look! Momma let me ride in the cart!"

The little girl in the bed of her cart made me look away with a frown. Both pairs of eyes fell on me, and I didn't miss the questioning look in both their gazes.

I slipped away, but not before I heard the little girl question, "who's that scary man?"

I roughly knocked into Thomas's shoulder. "I guess we learn new things everyday."

Although I wanted to look back, I forced myself not to. Thomas had a family. He had everything he could have ever wanted right at his fingertips. And what did I get? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

To think I actually came in here to buy groceries.