#goodbye mf

“How are things going with Cyrus?” The therapist asked, nodding through silence before scribbling in that journal again. 

“As well as you can get. I wasn’t invited to the wedding, but we’re a lot better off now. He moved in with his wife, too.” I attempted, sitting up in the chair and clearing my throat. 

“And your mother?” The therapy went, not scribbling much this time. Another round of silence reached the room. 

“Okay, I guess. No major fights.” I kept the answer vague, but knew that Toby and Cyrus would always be Mom’s golden boys. 

“What about you and Troy?” Another question, this time probing my childhood best friend. 

“To be honest, I’m probably the most solid with Troy than anyone else that you just mentioned.” I almost scoffed. “He’s more like family to me than Russ at this point.” 

“That’s good.” The therapist understood, but wrote down more details. I could only imagine what had been summed up. 

“Look, I’ve booked an hour with you ever since the court mandated this shit after my service. If you can’t crack the code, I might as well leave. Feels like we’re wasting time.” I simmered within, hoping to speed up the process quickly instead. 

“I move at your pace, Eric. The more you’re willing to tell me, the more likely you can heal. Help me move along the process with you.” The therapist finally offered insight, giving clarity. 

“Where do I start, Doc? If we even look at my old notes, you’ve probably seen hundreds of foster kid tales and armed service backstories anyway. What’s the point of me speaking up again?” I shook my head, but didn’t overreact. 

“You still have a voice, Eric. Know that speaking up matters, even when other people describe similar things.” The therapist went on, advising me once more. “Are you jealous of your brothers?” 

“Yeah. I’ve always wondered why Mom favored them over me. Hell, Cyrus is only the middle child between all three of us and she acts as if he’s the First Born.” I lowered my voice, trying not to lose composure. “Now, it’s like Mom treats me as a stranger. We act kind to each other, but she doesn’t feel like my parent.” 

“Have you ever asked your mother why the dynamics could be so different?” My therapist questioned. 

“Everyone loves people in different ways, but I feel left alone, always have been. It’s difficult to talk with her because we don’t even see each other very often.” I offered the truth. 

“Maybe you could try reaching out more often.” Doc continued, but handed over this brief smile. “Take small steps.” 

“Even a phone call from me might spook her. My mother’s more likely to pick up when Bianca sends out text messages, y’know?” I cringed, knowing that her daughter-in-law bonded more than me, her own biological son.  

“Do you believe that your mother is still afraid to connect with you on a deeper level because of your father’s passing?” Doc finally reached for the jugular and hit one benchmark. 

“Yes.” I affirmed. 

________

“Russ?” I dialed a few days later, taking small steps with my brother before even attempting to reach Mom right away. 

“Hey. I’m at the grocery store with B. What’s going on?” Cyrus beamed on the other line and I could only imagine how his smile looked in person since the wedding. 

“Don’t wanna take up too much of your time, but I was wondering if you two wanted to join me and a few friends for dinner this weekend.” I offered that genuine question and tried to smile on my own despite sitting in the living room by myself. 

“Thanks for the offer, but Drew’s birthday is coming up and we’re all going out for dinner then. Maybe next time, E.” Russ declined, but at least sounded grateful. 

“Oh, no problem.” I stayed cordial. “Sending birthday wishes for Drew. Bye.” I hung up this phone call, feeling slightly defeated. 

_______

With no other choice but to brush off that call with Cyrus, I found out that Drew earned quite the birthday celebration based on social media posts. Russ offered access due to our small steps, which allowed me to “follow” his friends in return. 

In videos or photos, glasses clinked while everyone grinned, proving just how much Cyrus and Drew were linked. The Butler family and friends join in, beaming as if Cyrus was actually born with Drew in the same ward. Even Bianca laughed along. 

All I ever wanted was to feel openly included with him like that, accepted near him instead of dodged. Friends would come and go, but family meant something to me, especially when Russ and Tobias were still alive. Happy, too. 

While cooking dinner alone, I noticed that subtle turns of my front door had echoed from behind. 

I didn’t know what to think, but cut off the stove and picked up my nearest firearm, secretly permitted to carry as long as no one called out my criminal past. 

I’d only given one spare apartment key to Troy, so someone else must've tried to pick the lock this time around. 

“You should really get that door fixed, Eric. Put the gun down.” Ray Hugo showed the audacity to stand in the middle of my living room and lift up one bobby pin. 

“What are you doing here?” I lowered my voice, but unloaded the gun as he requested. There was no need to fight back and risk getting killed for good. 

“Wanted to talk, especially since you didn’t help me out last weekend.” 

“Told you before Ray, I wasn’t going to ruin the best day of their lives. Russ deserves to be happy. Why don’t you understand that?” I defended my brother, trying to reason with the monster who stood in front of me. This same monster hurt Mom and killed my father.

“Look, your mother only coddled him because of where we lived. To be honest with you kid, I never really liked our city anyway.” Ray dared to scoff, pacing back and forth. 

“Coddled?” I furrowed my brow. “Russ is one of the toughest men I’ve ever met, with or without family ties.” 

“He only turned into this wannabe thug because it’s the only way folks didn’t kill you on sight.” Ray uttered bullshit, completely skipping over how much people bullied him growing up.

“Are you saying that he appropriated culture?” I questioned. 

“Of course. Without the tattoos, a Black wife, and so-called mafia power in the city, he’s just another White Boy, no different than you.” Ray lowered his voice, still giving out nonsense. 

“Sounds like you're insecure, Ray. My therapist says that folks start projecting onto other people when they don’t like reality.” I folded both arms, admitting the truth. 

“Don’t give me that psychological bullshit. No amount of time with some bookworm shrink could excuse your sins. Deal with God like everyone else, kid.” Ray shook his head. 

“You have no idea what I’ve been through. Now, I know exactly why Mom left your ass.” I backpedaled from him, still feeling pissed off. “Only think about yourself.” 

“No. If it wasn’t for you being born, I’d have my family back.” Ray was almost delusional now and blamed me for Mom’s happiness after their divorce. 

“You’ve lost your mind.” I said. 

“Not yet.” Out of nowhere, Ray took out his cell phone and slid it towards me across the coffee table. 

At that moment, I lifted the phone and realized that there was a picture of Cyrus cuddling a puppy with the biggest smile on his face. Even his wedding band gleamed while his knuckle showed. 

“What did you do to my brother?” I nearly growled. Enough was enough. “What the hell do you even want from us?” 

Just when I believed that Ray would finally give me an answer, one piercing gunshot ran out. 

His dying body almost immediately fell backward and thudded right onto my carpeted floor.