Tomorrow's Blues

36. Pierre

My brother's name was Pierre, and I found out about him when I was fourteen years old. He was fully my brother – not my half-brother or adopted brother. My parents had him when they were twenty-one, and they weren't prepared – mentally or financially – to raise a child. So they gave him up. When he grew up, he sought out our parents even though he was adopted into a loving family. Our parents were happy to hear from him but didn't want to take him away from his adopted family, so they had minimal contact with him. But when I learned about Pierre, I was desperate to meet him, so I found him. We'd become close, and I'd loved having a sibling, but he gradually became busier with his job and we weren't able to see each other as much.

As I looked at him now, though, it felt like yesterday we were playing cards in his flat or going sailing together. "What are you doing here, Pierre?"

"I came to see you." His voice was calm and collected, but I heard the emotion brewing beneath it.

"Only now?" I said harshly.

"I've been... busy," he said, looking away.

"Busy." My voice was flat and blunt. "For almost four months?"

Pierre shook his head. "That was a shit excuse. I'm sorry. But it's all I've got."

I stared at him for a while until he finally met my gaze. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"I didn't, not for sure. But I knew you loved this place. You came here all the time with... them." He couldn't even say our parents. And I hated him for it.

Neither of us spoke for a while. We used to be able to talk for hours on end, and we got on so well despite the eight-year age gap. Finally I said, "You didn't come to the funeral."

Pierre's face was full of remorse. "I know. I'm so sorry. But I wasn't sure if... I should have come."

"Of course you should have come." My voice cracked and my eyes began to burn. "They were your parents, too."

"I know," he repeated. "I know. And I don't know what I can do to make it better."

"You could have been there," I said fiercely.

"I should have been there. For you. For them." Pierre sighed. "I tried to get in contact with you afterwards, Lil."

I crossed my arms and glared in him. "I blocked you after you didn't show up at the funeral. God, Pierre, I was so mad."

"And you had every right to be."

"So many people came. So many people that just don't matter. Family friends I haven't seen in years." I could feel my throat closing up, my hands beginning to shake. "I had to – I had to speak. In front of all those people. All those people I didn't care about and you weren't there." A tear rolled down my cheek and I angrily wiped it away.

His expression was full of pain. "Honestly, Lil, I didn't think I deserved to be there," he admitted. "I didn't..." Pierre sighed and shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I should have tried harder with them."

When they were alive. The unspoken words hung in the air. And the reminder of my parents' death was like a punch in the gut. "It's... it's been really hard," I said in a small voice, my anger fading. I didn't have the energy to be angry at him anymore. "These past months... I didn't know how I was going to make it through."

Pierre's shoulders sagged. "I'm so sorry. I... can't imagine how hard it's been for you. I only knew them for a few years. But you...they raised you. They loved you."

"I'm aware," I snapped, my anger rising back up.

Pierre didn't flinch at my tone. He'd never been one to argue or shout at people. "They loved you," he repeated. "And they would have wanted me to... be there for you. Which I wasn't. And I am so, so sorry."