I often imagined what life might have been like with a different Brian, or no brother at all. Sometimes I imagined Amber’s life, too. I liked to think she would have left Wilsonville. I don’t know what she would have done, who she would have been, but she would have existed, and that is enough.
I also think he pleaded guilty to save Mom from further scandal. Everyone I’ve talked to since then—the therapists and counselors—have all told me Brian is incapable of thinking about anyone other than himself. He’s devoid of feelings and compassion. I still don’t know if that’s true. His narcissism would have pushed him to proclaim his innocence for years, despite the piles of evidence they eventually collected. And yet he confessed for Mom. To spare her a trial.
We do things for the people we love. That’s why I visited Brian for as long as I did. I would have been happy never seeing him again. The conversation we had in the hallway that day could have easily been our last. But out of respect for Mom, I continued to go. At least for the first few years. I never said much. I usually waited for Mom to have her conversation and only agreed to speak with Brian after she pestered me.
Eventually I stopped. All those knowledgeable people—the therapists and counselors—said it was for the best. Keeping Brian in my life would only continue my pain. I believed them on that one. I’ve never regretted not seeing him, and he finally took the hint and stopped sending letters.
On my last visit, I had recently graduated college. I was older than his victims ever were. I was engaged to Danny and had only come because Mom threw a fit. She wouldn’t leave until I agreed to talk with him, so I begrudgingly followed the officers down the narrow hallway. I sat in front of Plexiglas and saw Brian on the other side. He’d shaved his head and bulked his shoulders, but he still had a handsome face. I wondered what he might have become if he’d committed his mind to anything other than evil.
He lifted the phone, and, out of habit, I did the same.
“Mom doing all right?” he asked.
“Fine,” I said, looking away. “As good as can be expected.”
Seeing his face, hearing his voice, brought back all the memories. The cruelty and the cunning. Dad. Brian held the power to resurrect my ghosts.
“And you?” he asked, looking at the ring on my finger.
I quickly slid my hand under the table. “Damn it,” I said. “She said she wasn’t going to tell you.”
“You know Mom likes to share good news.” He smiled, wanting me to show some kindness in return. All it did was make me cringe. “I always saw a spark between you two.”
“I don’t want to hear what you saw in us,” I said, slapping my palm against the tabletop.
Brian looked down. “You deserve to be happy, Della.”
“You’re damn right I do.” I took a deep breath. I refused to cry in front of him. It was the one thing I’d promised myself.
He waited, looking at me. “You know, I don’t blame you for putting me in here.”
“You shouldn’t,” I said. “You should blame yourself.”
“I do,” he said, straightening. “I’m in here because of what I’ve done. I know that. I just want to make sure you know, too.”
“Why wouldn’t I know that, Brian?”
“Well, I’m on the inside. You’re the one living in the world. Dealing with the whispers and Mom’s hysterics. There must be a part of you that thinks you caused this by turning me in.”
“Don’t play games with me,” I said, poking my finger at the glass. This was what Brian did. He wormed his way into my mind. Tried to pull out my deepest thoughts. “I know I did the right thing. You wouldn’t have stopped killing otherwise. If turning you in hurt Mom, so be it. I had to do something.”
“I just wanted you to hear me say it,” he said. “I see what coming here does to you. You don’t have to do it for her. Or me.”
“I just don’t understand why, Brian.” My lip quivered, and I blinked hard in an attempt not to cry. “Even after all these years, I don’t understand why you did what you did.”
“I don’t either—”
“No, there has to be a reason,” I said. “Maybe you need to dumb it down for me to understand, but you have to have a reason. You have to tell me.”
“I just…” He clenched his jaw, and I saw his eyes watering. “I’ve always had this darkness inside me. As messed up as it sounds, it only lifts when… I do what I did.”
“That’s sick,” I said, leaning back in the chair and taking him in. His jumpsuit and his smile lines and his stupid shaved head.
“You know, when we were kids you always talked about how I was smarter. You had to work for stuff. Figure it out on your own. I didn’t try to be smart, but you didn’t try to be good.” He smiled at me, a genuine, even jealous, smile. “You just were.”
Maybe people are wired differently. Maybe there’s something within each of us that makes us who we are, and there truly isn’t any reason behind it. The whole world knew Brian was a monster now. That same monster had moments of light only I remembered. The day he saved me from Jeremy Gus. The night he let me cry after Dad died.
“Are you trying now?” I asked. “To be good?”
He nodded but didn’t say anything. I stood to leave, and I could see the loneliness consume him. He would return to his empty cell with its rules and restrictions. I might carry the weight of Brian, but at least I could carry that weight into a world of my choosing.
“You’re right, Della,” he said, before I left. “I wouldn’t have stopped.”
That was the
