T R U M A N

"Who was that?"

I jumped back into bed, hovering over Santana. She was still naked, and I felt her hands unwrap the towel from my waist.

"Eden," I murmured, kissing her neck.

She flinched away. "Why is Eden knocking on your door at seven o'clock?"

My lips were on her chest, and I lifted my eyes to hers. "You really wanna talk about this right now, San?"

I moved my head lower and she bit her lip.

"Truman. . ."

Her voice. Those green eyes fluttering close. It was killing me.

"How about now?" I brushed my mouth against her thighs, watching the way her back arched as her hand curled into my hair.

The conversation ended as Santana pulled my head to where she wanted it to be. She moaned my name, over and over and the sound killed me, teasing me until I couldn't take it anymore. Santana knew it too, because she shoved a condom into my hand and tugged my face back up to hers.

I kissed her. Felt her hands on my back. Heard her whisper my name into my ear, lips hot on my skin.

This is good, I told myself. I need this. I want this.

____

Santana was sitting on the counter, eating a bowl of cereal when I walked out of the shower. I finished running a towel through my wet hair and stopped in front of her, smiling as she held out the spoon.

"So," she began. I groaned, knowing where this was heading. "What happened with Eden?"

I chewed slowly, buying time, thinking of what to say. By the way Santana was watching me, she knew it too. Sighing, I sat on the counter beside her, grabbing the bowl from her hand, and decided on the truth.

"She left her school bag in my car," I said.

"Why was she in your car?"

I turned to her. "We broke up once because of your jealousy, San. You really wanna go through this again?"

It was the same reason why we broke up the night of Katie's accident. I couldn't even look at another fucking girl without her accusing me of something. She was always bickering, tugging at my shirt sleeve and following me around with her eyes wide open, waiting for me to fuck up.

And one time, I did.

"It's valid. You know that," she said. I winced at the reminder, pushing the memory aside.

Setting the bowl on the counter, I grabbed her face in my hands. "I took Eden to a diner that was Katie's favourite. That's all. She wanted to feel close to her. The girl just misses her best friend."

Santana didn't ask about me. Didn't think to ask if I missed my sister. It was fine. I was the one that told her not to come to the hospital. I was the one that constantly said I was doing all right and we didn't have to talk about Katie. But Katie was real, the pain was real. And sometimes I wondered what this relationship was even based on when all we did was avoid the important conversations.

She leaned in, lips finding mine, and I held her there for a second before she pulled away. "Okay," she said, eyes still closed, forehead on mine. "It's just . . . You two kissed once. I get nervous sometimes."

"It was just a kiss." The words felt wrong. So wrong. "Didn't mean anything, San. I told you that. It was a mistake."

Jumping off the counter, I stood in front of her. My feet ached against the cold tiles and I stood between her legs, pulling her to me, breathing in the smell of her hair that was still hanging damp around her waist, slowly curling. It was red, like fire. But I rarely saw it anymore: the fire Santana had been filled with back in high school. It was like someone burned it out, or the flame just died over the years.

Either way, she changed. We both did.

"Truman?" Her eyes held a vulnerability I hadn't seen in a while. She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me closer, palms running up and down my arms.

"What is it, baby?"

"I love you," she said.

I froze. She felt it, too, dipping her head beneath my chin to gaze up at me, eyes wide. I wanted to turn away, to tell her that she didn't love me, that she was just too comfortable with me; that we were two people who had grown so used to the other's company that we couldn't live without it.

It was fucked up. And for some reason, I found myself playing along.

"I love you, too." The words were a lie. And it felt wrong, that my first time saying that to someone was complete bullshit.

But by the look on Santana's face and the way she kissed me, the kind of the kiss that pulled us back to bed, I knew she bought it.

I didn't even think I was capable of that: loving someone. I didn't know how to love. I had only ever fucked around, dated for a few months then ended things when I got bored, which was too often. Santana was the first girl I had ever seriously dated. And even know, I knew there was something wrong with me— wrong with us. I didn't feel anything in my heart when we were together. When we kissed, when we fucked. Nothing.

My mind drifted off to Eden and how it felt to kiss her. Different. That's the only word I can use to describe it. And even now, her stupid comebacks, anger, and eye rolls made me laugh. Smile. Had me wanting to spend time with her, time I didn't have a right to.

Santana kissed me, her hand grabbing my arm and tugging us onto the bed as the other one slipped beneath my boxers.

I groaned at the feel of hands, then her mouth. All the while imagining it was someone else.

And I knew it was wrong, to be thinking about Eden right now. But that seemed to be a pattern in my life: thinking about Eden when I shouldn't be.

____

Santana was still asleep when I left for the hospital. There was no use inviting her. I didn't want her there, and she didn't want to be there either. She never knew how to act around Katie. I don't know what it was, and now it's too late to ask, but Katie never liked her. I wish I knew why.

I wish I would have cared enough to ask.

The hospital was quiet when I walked in. All the nurses on Katie's floor smiled at me. They weren't the same smiles they gave Eden, I was sure of it. These were all surprised, all filled with pity. All wondering why Katie's older brother doesn't visit as much as the rest of her family. I couldn't tell them that the guilt kept me away. I think only Eden could understand that.

I went to see a therapist after the accident. No one knows, not even Santana. It was a month after Katie's coma, and I hadn't slept in what felt like weeks. I kept seeing Katie laying on the ground, cold, trying to yell my name while I was hiding in a closet kissing her best friend.

I felt like I was drowning every time. My throat closed. I couldn't breathe. I was under water, and my body was filled with stones. I could see Katie's face on the surface, rippling back and forth before disappearing completely. Sometimes it was Eden's face, too.

I told the therapist everything. About the kiss. About the accident. About the guilt and the insomnia and how I never said goodbye. I sat there for the entire hour looking for answers and all I got were questions. I left feeling worse. The next day I decided I needed to leave, go back to college. Maybe getting away was the only way to clear my head.

I was wrong.

I walked into Katie's room and sat by her bed, holding her hand. The blankets on the couch were rumpled, and I knew my mother was going to walk back in soon. I'd have to be quick then.

As kids, no one ever thought Katie and I were related. Her hair was brown, and mine was black. Her eyes were wide and brown and mine were slender and blue. She was the one that kissed all our aunt and uncle's cheeks and asked to babysit their kids on weekends. I was the older brother that lurked in the corner and wondered when the fuck we'd be able to leave.

People always liked Katie better. Until puberty hit, high school started, and I grew seven inches. Then everything shifted. People wanted to be around me. People didn't know Katie by name anymore. The only knew her as my sister. Girls tried to get close to her to get close to me. And when they snuck out of the house in the mornings, Katie was sitting on the couch, watching. Judging.

I wanted to protect her. I wanted to be the older brother that she asked to drive her to the movies on weekends and distract mom and dad when she came home after curfew. But it was never like that. Not until she started hanging out with Eden, then the two were everywhere. I was driving them around. I was hanging out on the couch while they did their homework in the kitchen. I was always there. Eden was always there.

I eventually learned that Eden was there for me, and I was there for Eden. No one was there for Katie.

I wonder now if she knew that while I held her hand. I wonder if she always knew that there was something building between me and her best friend—if that's why she made Eden make the promise. I wondered if Katie would open her eyes one day and realize that we both let her down.

I hated thinking that.

Then I remembered something Katie said to me once. I was eight, and she was seven. We had just moved into our new house, and our dad was setting up a swing set in the backyard. Katie was laying on the grass, staring up at the sky, and I laid next to her.

"I think it would be nice, Truman," she had said, "to live in the sky. Don't you think?"

The idea was completely ridiculous, but she was my little sister. So I laughed and squeezed her hand, then tickled her stomach.

"I'll tell dad to build you a bedroom in the sky when he's done with the swings," I said. Her eyes went wide, and she sat up in a flash and jumped on me.

"You really think he can do that?" she said, grinning. "A bedroom in the sky?"

I nodded and hugged her back.

"He can do anything for you, Katie."

I remember that day because it was the last time I had seen the childish joy in Katie that made her believe she could actually live in the clouds. Then we grew up, and we grew apart.

I stared at her now, at the way her skin had paled. My mother brushed her hair every day, and it hung around her shoulders, the only part of her that still looked healthy—looked alive.

I glanced out the window and the sky was blue, and I imagined her laying in the clouds, watching over me and Eden. Would she be proud of us? Of what we've done? I didn't have to ask her to know the answer was no.

I sat up, an idea quickly forming in my head.

I didn't know if Katie would wake up tomorrow, next week, or ever. But all I did know was that when she woke up, I was going to be a brother that she could be proud of. I was going to give her the sky, that bedroom, and everything in between.

____________________

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