Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 146548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 733(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 733(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Before I say anything, I walk further into his room. Distracted at the sparkling clean area. No heaps of clothes on the floor. No soda cans stuffed under his bed or empty pizza boxes littering the ground. It hasn’t looked like this in months.
The metal of his life-sized armored knight seems polished. I look at my little brother. “Did mom cave and clean your room for you?”
Xander snorts. “No way,” he says. “She said if I didn’t clean it, I’d have to do inventory at Superheroes & Scones.” He shuts his paperback. “I think…I really scared her last time. She’s been super strict again.”
Last time.
Where he locked his door and retreated to a low point that scared pretty much all of us. It’s hard to touch that memory. The one where I was on tour and received the phone call from Kinney.
But I’d return to that place if he needs me to.
I roll out his desk chair near his bed and take a seat. “You wanna talk about it, Summers?” I ask him.
He considers for a long moment, and then he shakes his head. “Not really. I’ve already been through it about fifteen times with Dr. Kora. You know she told Mom and Dad that if she didn’t see improvement, she’s going to recommend me going to this inpatient treatment center for depression and anxiety.”
I watch him fan the pages of his book. I didn’t know about the inpatient center, but I’m not surprised that I wasn’t told until now. It’s not something my parents would share with me, and they’d let Xander tell whoever he wanted in his own time.
“But,” he continues. “There’s a zero percent chance I’m going. Check this out.” He rises off his bed and sidles to the desk.
I roll my chair backwards, out of the way so he can bend down and slide open a bottom drawer.
Xander pulls out a folded poster board. “Don’t laugh, it’s rough.”
“I’m not going to laugh,” I say seriously. In all honesty, this is the most excited I’ve seen my brother in years. I don’t know what’s changed. I don’t know if it’ll be a blip, but I’m overwhelmed for him because I recognize how big this is, even if it’s just today. An hour. A moment. It’s something.
He unfolds the poster board. It’s a collage of different medieval and fantasy-inspired costumes and fabrics.
“Mom and Dad helped,” he explains. “I’ve already figured out the LARPing schedule for this summer, and Mom says that if I want to wear prosthetics to look more elf-like I can. That way, you know, less chances for being recognized.”
He’s getting back into Live Action Role-Playing.
It’s huge.
He stopped a while ago, said he just didn’t enjoy it anymore. Falling out of love with things is something he does a lot. But LARPing was so good for him, got him out of the house.
I smile at the costume sketches that resemble the elves and hobbits from Lord of the Rings. “This is awesome, man.” I point out a couple drawings and fabrics, imagining my brother dressed up and out in the world. Doing something he loves. “Which one’s your favorite?”
When I look back at him, he almost smiles. “This one.” He rubs a glassy eye roughly with the heel of his palm, and then points to the elf sketch. “But I’m thinking of going with the red fabric. I’m not that into light blue.”
While we discuss his costume and LARPing, a sinking dread starts washing over me. And by the time he stuffs the poster into the desk, pressure nearly crushes my shoulders.
How the fuck am I supposed to bring up the pills?
Xander is happy.
Really goddamn happy. And maybe you don’t understand. Maybe you couldn’t, but my brother is literally glowing right now. He looks like he found a bottle of hope and chugged that shit down.
I don’t know how long that’ll last, and I’m so conflicted on what to do. I’m afraid of bulldozing this situation and coming in swinging. I need to think about this. Because on one hand, Xander needs his pills and this other guy shouldn’t be taking another person’s medication. On the other hand, Xander is doing better than okay right now, and I can’t rip him apart.
Tough love is easy for me, but not at this cost.
Biding my time, I reach for his Game of Thrones Daenerys Targaryen figurine on his desk. “What prompted this newfound love of LARPing again?” I ask.
Xander plops back onto his bed. “Nothing really. It just sounded fun again.” He pauses and then adds, “I know you used to go with me, but I think maybe I should do it on my own this time. No family. Like, I love you guys, but you just make it harder sometimes to…blend.” He gestures to me.
I’ve been front-page news lately. Going public with Farrow cranked the spotlight on me, and it sucks that I can’t experience this with my brother because of the media attention but I want him to be comfortable.