Serve Me

Declan hung up, and I got out a cold bottle of wine and some snacks to go with it. Once I settled comfortably on the couch, I poured the wine and waited for Declan, flicking through the TV Shows category on my TV. After a few minutes, I settled on a random episode of Friends, which was my go-to remedy.

The door was unlocked, and halfway into the episode (and a glass of wine), I heard Declan let himself in.

With the glass still in hand, I went to greet him, landing a big hug and grabbing the plastic bags of Chinese he brought.

“You couldn’t wait five minutes, Syd?” he asked, looking at me with a smile.

“First of all, it was more like twenty. Second of all, you look good, Declan. Put on some weight?”

“Oh, fuck off,” he said with a thin smile.

“I’m glad to see you.”

The truth was, Declan didn’t look good. In fact, he looked worse. He was even paler, if that was even possible, and leaner, his clothes now seemingly oversized and baggy. He looked older.

Declan stepped out of his shoes and crashed on the couch. There was something odd about him, a look or embarrassment I knew all too well. I didn’t say anything at first, simply got the food out of the plastic bags and joined him in front of the TV, salivating.

“Is this for me?” he asked, meaning the wine.

I nodded. “Only half a glass, okay?”

Declan didn’t have to ask my permission, but he was being nice. Back before the treatments began, he would have had no problem downing the whole bottle on his own, but now we had to be cautious. Even half a glass was worthy of a celebratory amount, and there was nothing to celebrate. He dropped a white envelope on the table.

I said, “Another bill?”

“Yup. Due next month.”

“Right.”

There was an awkward pause. I hated the awkwardness. I hated that my brother was sick, and how miserable it made him feel. Made both of us feel. And then there was yet another bill to pay. I could only guess how much longer we could keep it up. It was one of those times I really wished our mother was here to give some advice – she had always been the practical one. Our dad had been more into religion, but prayers weren’t working anymore.

I, on the other hand, was doing my best. Declan had burned through his college savings over the past year, and I had been working overtime for the past few months. It was consuming our lives.

I sipped the wine. It was cold and bittersweet on my lips. Rachel and Ross in the background pulled me out of my thoughts.

“I got it, Declan, don’t worry,” I said.

“I’m sorry Syd,” he replied, looking at the TV screen.

“Hey, don’t turn this into a pity party. You don’t have anything to be sorry about.” I paused but he didn’t respond. “Let’s eat dinner.”

We watched the show and talked about nothing in particular, just having a family night, like in the good old days.

Declan barely touched his food, but emptied his glass rather quickly and relaxed on the couch. He had become withdrawn lately, and I couldn’t blame him. The elephant was in the room, and sometimes it was hard to ignore.

“Hey, cheer up, okay?” I said, mostly to myself. “We’ll figure it out, and you’ll get better.”

He looked at me, as if saying Do you really believe that?

I was used this look, so I nodded, thinking that perhaps it was the wine giving me the optimism. Either way, I’d take it.

We watched another episode, as I finished my noodles. When it ended, I said, “Do you want to stay here tonight? Julia will be back late, so…”

“Nah. I’ll head home, read a book. I don’t sleep much, anyway. Thanks for letting me invite myself.” He began to get up, slowly, minding his balance.

“I’m here for you, Declan. You just let me know if you need anything. Keep your phone nearby.”

“Always do, don’t I?” his phone was in his hand, and I saw the Uber app was open on it.