Chapter Twenty-Six: Trouble

                                    

                                          
Brandon's POV
                          
For the first time, I felt like a stranger in my own home. My siblings wouldn't talk to me, Moms were trying (very poorly) not to resent me, and worst of all, Callie seemed to just plainly hate me.
                          
I'd gotten a few You Really Hurt Her kind of talks from Mariana, and Moms had given me a lecture or two, but then there was the instance where Jesus punched me amidst a landslide of off-the-wall screaming. 
                          
It was after breakfast this morning, after I'd stormed out of the kitchen, and I was in the front yard, getting my music notebook out of my car, when Jesus came storming out of the house. I hadn't noticed how angry he was until he came up behind me and pushed me against the car.
                          
"You cheated on her?!" He had screamed directly in my face.
                          
"Back off, it's none of your business," I said, trying to walk around him, but he pushed me again.
                          
"It is my business, Brandon!" He screamed. "THAT'S MY SISTER!"
                          
"And I'm your BROTHER!"
                          
"I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE MY BROTHER OR MY UNCLE OR MY FAIRY GODMOTHER, YOU CHEATED ON HER! " His words got to me. I took a heavy breath and stared at him, but he just kept going. "You are the reason she didn't wanna come back here! Because SHE was afraid of hurting YOU! AND YOU SCREWED HER OVER!"
                          
"JESUS, KNOCK IT OFF! YOU DONT KNOW OUR RELATIONSHIP, AND YOU DONT KNOW HER, SO JUST—"
                          
"BULL! WHEN SHE RAN AWAY, WHERE WERE YOU? NO WHERE. I WAS THERE. SHE WAS CRYING EVERY NIGHT AND GETTING DRUNK AND SMOKING POT AND  CIGARETTES AND ALL SHE HAD WAS HER BROTHER BUT SHE DIDNT WANT ME, SHE WANTED YOU. AND YOU WERENT THERE."
                          
A low laugh fell out of my chest. "Well you know what, Jesus? That's not my fault. That was another one of Callie's stupid decis-"
                          
And then just like that, like a bullet from a gun, his fist swung across my face.
                          
"JESUS!" I heard Mariana's shrill scream coming from the porch.
                          
Moms had come out after that and broken up our little fued, and then it was all over. But that was it. That was what shook me. None of Mariana's or Moms' lectures had gotten to me the way Jesus's violent screams had.
                          
Because Jesus made it hurt. Telling me about how Callie was drinking and smoking, and how he was there for her. It made me realize, I didn't know her as well as I thought I did. Because Jesus was her brother, and I was her nothing. And that made me so jealous of him.
                          
I should have been her brother, not her boyfriend. I should have ignored the way I felt. We would all be so much better if I had.
                          
But I knew my right from my wrong, though. I knew that what I did was wrong. I knew that I was disloyal and had no integrity and that I betrayed Callie on more levels of hurt than I could ever imagine. But I didn't want to blame myself, was the thing. I guess that's the selfish in me, but blaming myself only made it hurt more.
                          
I now had to either look at Callie like a sister, or an ex-girlfriend, and I had no idea which was worse. But when it all comes down to it, I didn't want to look at her. That made it worse. But how was I supposed to fix it? While she may not be my sister, she was my Moms' daughter, my siblings' sister. She was still family, easier or harder.
                          
When most couples break up, they don't have to look into the eyes of the person they love every morning; they part ways. But Callie and I, we were in each other's lives forever. We would see each other every Thanksgiving, every Christmas, every major holiday until we die. And I have to wonder, would things always be this way? Broken?
                          
I hesitantly trudged up the steps to the front door, preparing for another evening of pointed glances and awkward tensions. But sitting on the porch swing alone, her chin rested in her hands, was Callie. She was staring off into nowhere, her expression blank and unreadable.
                          
"What are you doing?" I asked her. She looked up at me with blame in her eyes.
                          
"Sitting," she said, looking away.
                          
I nodded my head, remarking at how beautiful she was, even when she was hurt, even with her hair up messily and her oversized hoodie was on. But I could tell when I wasn't wanted, so I went inside.
                          
And as soon as I stepped inside, I knew why Callie was out on the porch. 
                          
It was because Talya was in our house, sitting tensely on the couch with Moms on either side of her. When she saw me, her eyes gleamed as though she thought something good would come out of this.
                          
"Brandon," Lena snapped unhappily. "Talya has something interesting to share with you."
                          
Talya stood, her thumbs locked together before her midsection. Her face was red and she looked distraught, unkempt, though I knew it was only an act.
                          
"I'm pregnant." Talya spat, her voice wavering.
                          
My jaw fell open into the perfect O-shape, and I looked at her with astonishment written in my gaze. "What? W . . . with . . . Who's is it?"
                          
Her jaw snapped open and she rolled her eyes. "It's yours, Brandon!"
                          
My heart dropped, and for a second I believed her, but then my common sense kicked in. I hadn't slept with Talya in longer than nine months. If she had ever been pregnant with my child, there would have been a baby to prove it by now. My eyes snapped to Moms, and then I understood the genius in this. It was a trick, and there had to be some kind of condition to make her let it go.
                          
"That's impossible!" I exclaimed. I looked at Moms. "I swear, Moms, we didn't . . . I mean, we never . . . Not in a really long time, and when we did we always used protection."
                          
"Let me ask you something, Brandon, do you always use protection? With every girl, every time?" Mom asked, folding her hands.
                          
"Yes!" I yelled, without thinking.
                          
"Really?" Mom said, her voice unsteady now. She scoffed and shook her head thoughtfully. "Because there's a pregnancy test that says otherwise."
                          
Question marks scattered across my brain.
                          
"A pregnancy test?" I shouted, turning to Talya. "Where in the hell did you get a fake preg-"
                          
"Thank you for coming over, Talya," Lena said suddenly. "We'll give you a call and let you know what's gonna happen."
                          
"Thank you, Mrs. Adams-Foster," Talya said kindly, and then she looked at me, and winked "Call me, Brandon. We have a lot to discuss."
                          
As soon a the door shut behind her I looked at my moms with my hands held out in the air. "She and I haven't had sex in almost a year, I swear. She's lying, she's-"
                          
"We know," Mom said. "We know how she is, we believe you."
                          
I furrowed my eyebrows and my heartbeat slowed. "Then . . . Who? Who were you talking about?"
                          
"Brandon, I think you know exactly who."