The Muse's Undoing

“Seems violent,” I say.

“Spoken like a true artist, and someone who’s avoiding my question.”

I sigh heavily and fold my arms over my stomach. “What’s there to talk about? You know my dirty secret.”

“Why dirty?” he asks.

“Did you forget you’re my brother?”

“Did you forget I’m actually not?”

The truth is there hasn’t been a single day of my life where I thought of Fischer as my brother. Maybe that makes me an asshole, but he was a hostile stranger. Until he became my world, and now my best friend. Still, what I want between us isn’t possible, and I’ve known that a long time. It’s the cross I bear. “Regardless,” I say. “But I’m sorry about all that earlier. I was just frustrated.”

“Why were you frustrated, though?” he asks. “What did I say?”

I let out another sigh, but this one sounds more like a groan. “You were talking about getting married again and settling down, and you’ve got a regular hook-up who’ll probably worm her way into your life sooner than later, and when that happens, for me, you might as well be back in Jerusalem.”

Fischer scowls deeply. “What are you saying?”

“Just what I said.”

“No…it’s not just that. What are you saying, Matthew?”

“I’m saying…” I take a deep breath. “That if what you want is a life with someone you can raise your kid with, then maybe I shouldn’t be coming by as much.”

A long silence hovers between us. It doesn’t settle. It’s charged and it’s got weight. We stare at each other, and I have no clue what he’s thinking. He doesn’t look happy. But he doesn’t look devastated either. Meanwhile my insides feel like they’re being put through a shredder.

After a few endless minutes of this, he holds out a hand. “Come here.”

I roll my eyes. “Why?”

He wiggles his fingers at me. “Come on.”

Against all my better judgment, I take his hand and let him drag me down. After some rearranging on his crazy-firm couch, we lie on our sides facing each other. My leg instinctively cages him in because he’s the one on the outside, in danger of falling to the floor. Again.

“What?” I repeat myself.

He rests a hand on my face. “You’re beautiful. You know that, right?”

This is suspicious behavior. “What’s the point of this?”

“I’m telling you I think you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you. You’re not so bad either.”

His eyebrows lift. “Thanks, I guess.”

His thumb brushes my mouth, and I feel myself going into shock. I’m cold. I’m clammy. I lick my lips as subtly as I can, but they feel dry all of a sudden.

“I’m gonna kiss you,” he says out of the clear blue nothing.

My eyelids flutter. I might pass out.

“If you want me to stop, just don’t kiss me back, okay?”

“Okay,” I choke out.

“But I wanna say something first.”