Chapter 10

                                    

                                          
It was the third Monday dinner with his brother and his new wife.
                          
To say Finn wasn't happy when Simon showed up, a bottle of wine in hand, for the first dinner was an understatement. His baby brother had an expression on his face that reminded Simon of a politician enduring a press conference over a sex scandal. Emily had intervened and insisted Simon stay.
                          
There was a little hope this time. Simon had a plan.
                          
Emily's words at the wedding had haunted him. His baby brother needed to be shown he was loved. Even though Simon wondered if he knew how to give it, he had to try. For both their sakes.
                          
An idea came to him over last week's awkward meal. The newlyweds had been in the city that day, and as a result, they'd picked up take out on the way home. The meal was fine, but Simon could do better than generic mass-produced food.
                          
Using the excuse of thanking them for the last two meals Simon insisted on doing the cooking this week. Technically he had the chef at the restaurant prepare the meal. But he'd carefully selected each dish.  
                          
A cornucopia of Finn's favourites. The summer Finn worked at the restaurant with him, the then teen practically lived off the restaurant's three-cheese dip with freshly made naan bread chips. Simon felt a small weight lift as Finn's eyes widened when he placed the open container on the table, the smell of the garlic permeating the room.
                          
He paired it with chicken pot pie. The recipe had been their mother's, one of the few things the siblings had left of their parents. The ring resting on Emily's finger and a pearl necklace currently stored in his safe at work rounded out their tribunes. Once upon a time, there had been a pair of diamond earrings but Delora pawned them to pay for rent and heat one bitter January shortly after their parent's accident.
                          
Simon replaced the earrings a few years ago, giving them to Delora one Christmas. He'd searched for weeks to find a pair similar to the ones he remembered adorning their mother's ears day in and day out. The sentiment was there in the little buds of the light reflective gem set in gold, but the connection to their mother was forever gone.
                          
Trying to bring some balance to the meal, grilled root veggies with parsnips (Finn loved parsnips for some reason) and a massive goat cheese tossed salad were also thrown in.
                          
Lastly a large order of frings for Emily. The combo of french fries and onion rings were high on her list of comfort foods.  
                          
"Frings!" squealed Emily at the sight of the greasy treats.
                          
"Joseph insisted. He says hi by the way."
                          
Emily was already consuming one, closing her eyes as a little moan escaped her mouth. Her husband stared at her in a way that made Simon feel very much like a third wheel. A sliver of happiness bloomed in Simon's heart as he watched Finn tuck into the smorgasbord built for him.
                          
With Emily around, the conversation flowed. She asked questions about safe subjects and engaged the brothers in idle chatter without much depth. It led to a comfortable almost easy atmosphere.
                          
But if Emily left the room, everything ground to a halt. Finn would fall silent and Simon came up short for things to discuss. There was so much he didn't know about his brother. Years apart, lives led separately stretched between them, the connection so thin it could be cut by a butter knife.
                          
With dinner finished, they moved into the living room. Finn poured two glasses of scotch, handed one to Simon. Emily declined, preferring to nurse her lemonade. The shrill buzz of an old-fashioned phone ringing interrupted them. The house landline. Emily jumped up to take it.
                          
Simon was left alone with his brother.
                          
Silence hung between them. At least Finn no longer openly glared at Simon.
                          
"The pie was good," Finn offered.
                          
Hope pulled at Simon's chest. Those four words were practically confessions of love from Finn. His brother was more of the strong silent type.
                          
"Almost as good as mom's," Simon searched for a way to continue the conversation. "Joseph is close but there's still something missing. Some ingredient mom must have added and not written down in her recipe."
                          
"Love maybe," whispered Finn.
                          
Simon almost dropped his drink. Not once since her death had Finn and Simon ever talked about their mother. "That must be it."
                          
Studying his brother, Simon looked for the usual pained expression painted on Finn's face. It wasn't there. In fact, Finn gave an air of contentment. His chocolate locks, which he shared with Simon and their mother were prominent again after years of a severe brush cut. The curls made him look younger, took off some of the harsh edges Finn usually carried around. Simon was used to a brother who could never stay still, looking ready to bolt at any moment. Now he sat before him, one arm thrown over the back of his chair, calm and dare Simon say it, happy.
                          
"She would have loved Emily."
                          
Ocean blue irises shot up at Simon. "Do you think so?"
                          
"You know it. They would have got on like a house on fire."
                          
"Yeah." The corner of Finn's lips curled up, "they would have."
                          
"I'm..." Simon yearned to say he was happy for him, for them. The words stuck in his throat. Would Finn turn sour at the attempt at an apology? Simon had found ways to tell Emily over and over how sorry he was for his part in their... separation. So much so she had expressly banned him from apologizing to her ever again.
                          
Finn was another story. His younger brother didn't seem open to the idea. There was nothing Simon desired more than to make him understand how it tore at his heart when he thought about his part in keeping Finn from the woman he loved. How he now knew he was a fool to participate in Mary's plan.  Understood he'd done the wrong things for the wrong reasons. The words simply wouldn't come.
                          
"You're what?" Finn prompted.
                          
Sucking in air, Simon decided to try his luck.  "I'm-"
                          
"You're not going to believe this," interrupted Emily, strolling into the living room.
                          
Simon let out the breath. Apparently, this was not the right time.
                          
"What's that, little one?" Finn smiled at his wife as she positioned herself in his lap, curling her legs underneath her.
                          
"That was Mary.  Her apartment has been flooded. Broken pipe from the place above her.  It's a complete mess."
                          
Finn grunted. Simon looked away, not wanting to see what the mention of Emily's sister did to the peace his brother was enjoying. Each night Simon came over he secretly hoped and dreaded Mary would come up. He was curious about her life but afraid to discover certain details.  Like was she dating the man he saw her dancing with at the wedding?
                          
To hold his tongue, Simon raised the glass in his hand to his lips.
                          
Emily wrapped her arm around her husband's neck. "I told Mary she could stay here while it's being repaired."
                          
Both Finn and Simon choked on their scotch.