As soon as I opened the garage door, I could tell that my brother was up to something. The garage was cleared of any clutter, and he had three black garbage bags full of something near the front of the room.

We were kind of minimalists. One thing we had learned through all our moves was the fewer items we had, the easier it was to move. So the fact that he had three large bags of garbage was kind of alarming.

"What's going on?" I asked a bit reluctantly as soon as I stepped out of the car. I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to know the actual reason or not, although I suspected I already knew.

He straightened up, and I got a good look at him, which was another surprise. His beard was completely gone, and he wasn't wearing his glasses. It made him look more like me than ever before. Well, my old me. Now I had the non-shaved look, where it was just a short scruff across my face, and my hair was shorter and neater.

"I'm cleaning out."

That was obvious.

"I see that, but what are you throwing out? We had three bags worth of garbage lying around?"

He gave me a look I knew well. The one that said I was an idiot to question him.

"Shit we don't need. Some of my old clothes, papers, old towels, just old crap."

I nodded because what else could I do? It was what I expected. He was getting ready to move. It was as clear as day.

I hadn't thought we were at that point yet, so I'd either been ignoring the signs, or he hadn't told me the whole truth about everything. My guess would be on the second option.

"Alright," I told him. "I'll make dinner, and then I think we need to have a real talk."

His shoulders slumped a bit like he didn't want to.

"Yeah. Okay."

He stayed in the garage as I went inside the house to change. Bear followed closely behind me, like he knew something was bothering me, and it was. I'd hoped we'd have more time in Boston. I liked it here. The job especially, and the co-workers were nice enough.

I wasn't looking forward to starting over at a new place. To have to figure out new surroundings and safe routes. To have to get a new job, and meet new acquaintances.

Sometimes I really hated this life.

After changing into a plain white t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts, I went downstairs to cook. Curry chicken and rice with a side of peas were on the menu.

I heard my brother go through the stuff on his desk as I added chicken to the frying pan, and for some reason that just added to my already annoyed mood.

"You better tell me exactly what's going on," I told him the second he stepped foot in the kitchen. "How urgent is it?"

He sighed as he slumped down onto the kitchen chair he usually sat on during dinner.

"I heard from dad again," he admitted.

"Okay." One would think that'd be a good thing, but in our case, it wasn't. It usually meant trouble was on the way.

"He's being very cryptic."

"More than normal?" I asked sarcastically and got a nod in response.

"In what way?"

I turned so I could look at him as I used the tongs to flip over the chicken pieces.

"He's just texting numbers."

"Like random numbers or phone numbers?"

"Random numbers. Like single digits. The first time he did it was shortly after that ten-year text. I thought it was a mistake at first but then he sent another one a few days later. The first one was a two, then it was a five and this morning he sent a three."

That had me frowning.

"Nothing else, just numbers?"

"Yeah. Weird right?"

"Huh..."

It reminded me of a conversation I'd had with our father a long time ago. I couldn't remember what it was about or exactly how old I was, just that he referred to numbers and said it was important. I must've been like twelve or thirteen at the time, so whatever it was that was important to him, hadn't been very important to me.

"I asked what that was supposed to mean, but he didn't respond."

He wouldn't. Not by text. Especially not if it wasn't safe. And if he texted like that, it most likely meant he was in trouble. Again.

"It means something, but I can't remember what," I admitted. "We'll need to go to the cabin again. It must be written in the papers we hid underneath the floorboards."

He nodded. "Alright. That's good. At least we'll have a lead."

I portioned the food onto two plates and brought them to the table.

"Thanks," my brother said and dug into the food. It got quiet for a few minutes as both of us shoveled food into our mouths.

"You really think we need to move again?" I asked when I was halfway done, hoping he'd say no, but knowing better.

He didn't even have to think about the answer. It was immediate. "Yeah, I do."

And I hadn't even told him about what happened at work. Shit. This sucked.

I put my fork down and told him exactly what had transpired during lunch and what I'd done about it.

"Fuck."

"Yeah." That was exactly how I felt about it, too.

"This changes things. We need to change things up asap." He leaned back in his chair and stared straight into my eyes. "We'll need to get a new car right away, and you need to change your appearance."

Like he had.

"I can't really change the way I look for work. It's not like I can wear jeans and a hat to the office."

He considered that for a minute. "You could wear a hat to work and take it off once you get there," he suggested. "Cut your hair shorter, and you have to change your routine. Take the subway tomorrow. Bring lunch."

I knew the deal, but hearing him point it all out just pissed me off.

"I don't want to go to Kansas," I commented like a spoiled kid.

"Bro, we already decided that would be our next step. We already have some things in set place for that."

"I know that," I snapped back. "Don't you think I know that?"

He just sighed and looked down at his empty plate.

"I hate all of this!" I shouted. "How we have to live in fear and constantly be aware of our surroundings, and move every few years because of him, because of the choices he made."

"I don't really like it either," he responded and looked back up to meet my eyes.

"Don't you ever just feel like it's enough? Aren't you tired of this life?"

"Of course I am," he exploded, clearly as wound up as I was. "I'm twenty-seven years old and I still live with my brother. I spend my entire days in this house, most of them in a makeshift office in an old dining room with floral wallpaper. You think that's my fucking dream?" He gulped in some air and continued, "if I had a choice, I'd live on the coast somewhere near a beach. Somewhere I didn't have to shovel feet of snow every goddamn winter. Or move to some backway town in the middle of fucking nowhere just because we haven't lived in that state yet and it must be safer than all the other ones." He took another breath, and his eyes flashed with anger. "I can count on one hand the times I've been to a bar or a restaurant this year, but I can't even remember the last time I had sex."

I knew he was right. This life stunk for both of us. I got up and opened the fridge, and took out a couple of beers.

"Thanks," he said when I handed him one. He immediately took a long pull.

I sat back down and did the same. More than half the beer was gone before I put it down.

It got quiet again for a couple of minutes. My brother picked at the label on the beer bottle and I just stared at the wall.

"I just wonder if it's ever going to change?" I commented once I finished the beer. "Will there ever be a time when we can settle down? Meet someone, actually have a real life, you know, like start a family..."

Those had never been things I'd thought I'd want in the future, at least not since I dated Ellie, but as I got older, those were things I wondered about. And even more so after seeing Ellie again. Somehow she was still the one I saw as my bride, and the mother of any future kids.

"Does this have something to do with Ellie?" He asked and there was a teasing tone to his voice.

And that hit a nerve. I got up so abruptly from the table that it startled both my brother, and Bear, who'd been sprawled out on the floor next to my feet.

"I fucking hate this," I shouted, "and I hate him."