He sits down and immediately reaches for the food, but of course he isn’t scolded. Aaron can do no wrong.
Only a year apart, we’ve been mistaken for twins all our lives, with the same nearly black hair and gray eyes. That’s where the similarities stop, though.
“You never invited Chris over for dinner,” I point out, reaching for a piece of garlic bread and stuff it in my mouth. I groan, the bread nice and crispy on the outside and soft in the middle, just how I like it. “Besides, she’ll only be there for two months. Audrey and I don’t want to be left paying Chris’s share while we try and find someone more permanent.”
“Well, the invitation is open.” She turns to Aaron. “Now, honey, why don’t you tell Levi your big news.”
He picks at his spaghetti, leisurely twirling the noodles around his fork and then letting it all drop back down on the plate. “I’m starting school in the fall.”
“At Suncoast?” I ask sharply. I hope he doesn’t expect to move in with me. No fucking way in hell.
“No, the community college. Don’t worry,” he sneers. “I’m not going to your precious university.”
“Aaron,” Mom warns.
I give him a look of fake concern. “What, your plan to make it big as a rock star didn’t pan out? Gee, what a surprise.”
“Levi,” she says in the same tone.
“Hey, I tried. All right? More than you can say,” he shoots back, eyes flashing.
“Music is just a hobby for me. I don’t want to do it professionally.” I grit my teeth, tired of having this conversation over and over, but unable to stop myself from arguing back. There’s no one like family who can piss you off the most. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t resort to stealing other people’s work. Especially not my brother’s. And all to impress some dumbass girl!” I slam my hands on the table, getting worked up again, the same as I have whenever forced to interact with him in the last six months.
“I didn’t know she would take it and pass it off as her own, okay? How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“Boys!” We both turn to look at Mom, glowering in her seat. “Can we just have a nice family meal together?” She looks between the two of us, her anger morphing into sadness. “Levi, what will it take for you to let this go?”
“He betrayed me,” I say in a guttural voice. “He stole my songs and passed them off as his own. And he didn’t even have the decency to admit to it. I had to hear them on the radio to find out. How am I in the wrong here?”
Shame washes over Aaron’s face briefly before he tries to turn it back on me again.
“You weren’t even using them!” he explodes. “You write amazing music and lyrics and then they just sit in your stupid journal.” He runs his hands through his hair with manic energy. “You told me yourself you wouldn’t perform them.”
“It doesn’t matter what I was going to do with them. They weren’t yours to take. It serves you right that Marisol said they were hers and kicked you out of the band.”
“If you’re mad at anyone, it should be her. Take her to court. Sue her or something.”
“She’s not my brother. The guy who’s supposed to have my back,” I say in a low voice.
A flicker of anguish flashes in his eyes. Maybe he’s remorseful but too stubborn to admit it. I get that. I have my fair share of pride too. And that’s why I can’t let it go.
“Whatever,” he mutters, getting up from the table, his chair screeching across the linoleum floor. A few seconds later, his bedroom door slams. That’s right, he had to move back home after making such a big deal about hitting it big.
Dad stands too after another minute, his plate clear. He wipes his mouth and heads into the living room, turning on the ball game. As usual, nothing fazes him.
I take another half-hearted bite of spaghetti and set my fork down, my appetite gone.
“Levi,” Mom shakes her head sadly.
“Why aren’t you harping on him? He’s the one who screwed up.”
“Aaron said he was sorry.”
“He gave me a fake-ass apology, and only when I confronted him about it. He was more sorry he got caught than that he actually did it.”
“He’s so young, give him a break.”
“He’s only a year younger than me. Mom, why do you keep making excuses for him?”
She rubs her hands over her eyes, more weary than I can remember seeing her. “I know what he did was wrong,” she says quietly. “But what do you want me to do? Disown him? He made a mistake, Levi.” She reaches for my hand across the table, gripping it tightly. “But you can’t make him pay for it the rest of his life.”
“If he wants to make amends, I’ll hear him out.”
She sighs, letting go of me and gathering her hands in her lap.
“Thanks for dinner.” I get up, grabbing another piece of garlic bread for the road, and cross over next to her, dropping a kiss on top of her head.
“I love you, Levi.”
“Love you too.” I walk down the hallway, calling out a farewell to my dad who only waves his hand in response, not wanting to miss a second of whatever game he’s watching.
When I get in my car, who should come on the radio but Marisol’s band, Velvet Swan. I shut it off, tired to my bones of fighting with Aaron like this, being this angry with him every time I see him, but unable to forgive him the way Mom wants. He’s done nothing to deserve forgiveness. I’m not a spiteful person by nature, but he gets under my skin like no one can, turning me into someone I don’t recognize.
Being only a year apart, there’s always been a competitive edge to our relationship, but I never imagined he’d do something like this. When I confronted him, he fed me some bullshit line about how he thought it would be okay to take my stuff. Once I saw how popular it was, I would see how he was right that I should have joined a band with him.
Aaron was passable at guitar, but not anything great, and he knew I had no interest in performing. I told him my songwriting was private, something I only did for me. It was a way to get out what I was feeling, to have it come to life and release it. He didn’t understand that, though. He had a drive for fame, for acknowledgement, that I lacked and nothing would ever make us see eye to eye on that. Just fundamental differences in our personalities.
I drive home in silence, sorry to have lost my cool like that in front of my mom, but relieved to be done with another weekly dinner. The tension slowly creeps away, but as soon as I walk in the apartment, it slams into me full force again. Sam’s in her room, fucking Marisol’s voice blaring from inside on her computer or phone or something. Singing my song.
Without thinking, I pound on her door. She opens it, the clean linen smell of fresh laundry wafting out of the room. “I don’t want to hear that fucking shit in this house. That’s an apartment rule.” I stalk into my room, ignoring her wide eyes, the shocked expression, slamming the door shut behind me before she can call me out for my asshole behavior.
I pace the small length beside my bed, instinctively wanting to turn to my journal and let it all out, but I can’t just yet. It’s stayed unwritten in for the last six months, some kind of mental block going on that won’t let me write anything new. Words come to me occasionally, little phrases that I think would fit together, but the music stays silent. The well of incessant need to get everything out is still there, still filling up, but my brother’s betrayal is at the forefront of my mind every time I see the journal.