My phone rings again, but there’s no joy or relief in my heart this time. It won’t be her. According to her mother, it will never be her. When I check the screen, it’s confirmed. Still, it’s the one other person who’s allowed to see me at my worst. She already has more times than I can count.
“Camille,” I breathe out once our video call is connected.
My sister’s concerned expression droops further when she sees me. “Oh, Oli. It’s not good, is it? I’m so sorry,” she says in French.
I shake my head, looking away. My heart is too shattered right now to face her. “I don’t even know. Her mother has her phone and won’t tell me anything. I know the same as everyone else, which is nothing.”
“She probably doesn’t want to worry you.”
I blink back the emotion, not wanting to make my sister yet another casualty. “Maybe.” The lie grates against my lips as it slips out.
“I wish I was there to hug you, Oli.”
I close my eyes, fighting my intense reaction to that thought. God, I’d do anything to have her here right now. To feel the warmth of unconditional love. Any fucking flicker of light. “I wish you were too.” My voice sounds shattered. I wish I could take it back when I see how it hurts her.
“I want you to come home for Christmas.”
I swallow the new lump in my throat. The burn in my heart sears to my eyes. It’s too much. All of it. The shit show of my life raining down all at once. “You know I can’t,” I force out.
“I know but… Oliver?”
I shake my head, clenching my eyes shut.
“Oli? What is it?”
Tears push against my lids, pressing, violent in their assault. I grip the phone, pushing the heels of my palms against my eyes to block them. Not now! Not fucking now!
“Oliver!”
I hear my sister’s voice. She’d be staring at the ceiling with the phone in this position. Maybe the door behind me. I don’t know at what angle I have the camera anymore, as long as it’s not my face. As long as it’s not giving her access to the mess I’ve become. Weak, broken. My spirit as useless as my body now.
My cheeks burn from the hot liquid as it seeps out. My eyes, even more. I whisper curses, but it doesn’t make it stop. The pain. The tears. The despair. All of it swirls around me inside and out. I’m a shadow, indistinguishable from the darkness surrounding me.
“Oliver! What’s wrong? Are you crying? Talk to me.”
I can’t. She can’t see me like this. Know I’ve failed. That I’m not the man she thought, probably never was. Maybe the gossip sites were right. I’m a fraud. A liar. Worse than that.
“I’m showing you something,” she says to the ceiling. “Hold on.”
Huh? After a few seconds, I hear rustling again as she picks up the phone.
“It was supposed to be a Christmas present, but I think you need to see it now. Will you just look? Why am I still staring at a wall?”
“It’s a ceiling,” I respond finally, my voice shaky. I pull in a ragged breath and drag my sleeve over my eyes. I probably look like a mess, but I finally adjust the phone so she can see me. Her reaction confirms it, and her eyes melt with the pain reflected in mine.
“Oh, Oli,” she whispers.
I blink and avert my gaze, searching for some remnant of strength to hold onto for her sake. Just a few more seconds and I can break once and for all in the solitude of my basement prison. Sandy was right to lock me down here. I shouldn’t be free to poison the world anymore.
She sighs and seems to collect herself as she reaches for something beside her. “Emma and Eric made this. Mom told them to make a picture of you.”
“The twins?” I ask, perking up at the mention of my baby brother and sister. Okay, so they’re ten now, but they’ll always be babies to me. Dad died of a heart attack right before they were born, Thomas just a couple years later. In a weird way, I’ve always been the father figure in their lives.
She nods, biting back a smile. The phone angles away from her face and lands on a large sheet of paper. I startle a bit, choking back emotion at the image before me.
“I told you, Oli. You’re not just some famous athlete,” she says softly. “And you’re not a popstar’s boyfriend either. You’re our brother and you are everything to us.”
I suck in a breath at the rough image of me in a superhero cape, standing in front of our house with my fists on my hips. Mom and the others surround me, smaller in stature but clearly depicted with representative characteristics. Lea and her guitar. Zoe and her camera. Camille with her books, and Eric and Emma with the dog they forced Mom to get last year. I blink back tears at the two figures in the sky, smiling down at us. Dad and Thomas, alive enough in memory and love to be depicted by young minds who never even knew them.
“We need you, Oli. I need you,” Camille whispers. “You’re our world.”
I swat the tears from my cheeks, nodding my response as the words catch in my throat. “I know. I’m… Just having a hard time,” I choke out. “I wish you were here.”
Tears glisten in her eyes as she stares back at me. “I want to be. More than anything. I love you, big brother.”
“Love you too, little sis.”
She softens, studying me for a moment. “I have
