Hudson pulls out his phone, already on the case. “With Google, anything is possible,” he says, but it’s not true. Google can’t give us back Luna, and that’s the only thing I really want.
It takes us ten minutes to find an Irish bar, or as the Brits call it, a pub. It takes another ten minutes to get served and receive our drinks. Thankfully, there is a table free at the back and, as we all take a seat, I feel strangely awkward.
My friends are like oil, and my brothers like water. They’ve never mixed before, and now we’re in the same place at the same time, I feel trapped between them, not really sure which version of myself to be. They’re not that different beneath the surface though. I’m hoping that some time spent together will iron out any creases.
“So, where are you guys staying?” I ask to break the silence that’s settled over our group.
“A hostel in Kings Cross. It’s basic and expensive but the cheapest we could find. What about you?”
“We’ve got rooms in a chain hotel. Nothing fancy,” I say. I don’t tell them about the penthouse and VIP suites we’ve been staying in or our travels around the world. They don’t need to know about Luna at all and to be honest, talking about her would be like picking open a wound. “You gonna share what happened…how come you’ve left the family?”
Josiah nods, taking a sip of beer, which leaves white foam in his blond beard. “Same as you, brother. We got to an age when we realized that there wasn’t anything for us there.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t marry you off by now,” I say.
“They tried, but we grew up with those girls. They all felt more like sisters than potential brides, and we didn’t love them. What kind of marriage isn’t built on love?”
“My parents only met once before they married,” Mo says, sipping his Coke through a straw. “They’re happy together.”
“I guess it can work some of the time,” I say. “But I get where you’re coming from. I wish I’d known, but I couldn’t get in touch with you. I tried, and Dad would always put the phone down. I just believed that I was never going to see you again.”
“We didn’t take it personally, El,” Isiah says. “We knew you weren’t leaving us; you were leaving the life. We knew you were doing the right thing for you.”
“It was hard to leave everyone behind,” I say. “I used to dream I was home, and then I’d wake up in some dusty tent in Iraq and wonder how the fuck I got there.”
“We prayed that we’d find you somehow,” Josiah says, revealing that it’s not their faith that they left behind, just the restrictive lifestyle our family enforced.
“It looks like those prayers were answered,” Connor says. He holds up his glass, “To Elijah and a surprise family reunion.” We all clink glasses, but the toast is followed by another awkward silence.
“Love always finds a way to bring people together.” Isiah nods knowingly, suddenly seeming older than his years. I wish I had the same faith as him. My whole life seems to have been about leaving people I love – first my family and my friends back home, now Luna. I don’t get why holding onto love can be so hard.
“Love always finds a way to fuck you in the ass,” Jax says, tipping the rest of his beer down his throat as though he’s trying to drown his melancholy.
“Not love,” Josiah says. “It’s everything we put before love that does that.”
“Your brothers are very wise,” Mo says, nodding.
“But that’s life,” Hudson says. “There’s always something that comes to test us.”
“And what do you do when that happens?” Isiah asks.
“Whatever is best for everyone,” Hudson says.
Isiah nods knowingly, slumping back into his chair. “Our parents would say that they did that for us. They would tell whoever asked that all their decisions had the best interests of their family at heart, but they never asked us what we wanted. They never asked us how we felt. Our real wants and needs were pushed aside for what they believed we should need and want. In the process, they squashed us until we didn’t know whether we were coming or going. Elijah was the strong one. He was the first to break out of that and find his own place in the world. We waited for longer, hoping that our mom and dad would learn that they were doing wrong by losing one son. It turns out they lost all three of us and still haven’t learned.”
“That’s sad,” Jax says. “Why do parents fuck us up so bad?”
“They say the worst preparation for life is a happy childhood.” Connor says it bitterly, but I understand why that might be true. When things are too easy, we don’t build the fortitude to resist difficult times.