His brother scooped a heaping spoonful of pot roast and potatoes into a bowl and set it in front of him. “My pot roast is still your favorite, right?”
Llew’s answer was to shove a huge spoonful into his mouth. His brother appeared to be waiting on some type of response… but he didn’t have one. He’d been taught to keep his mouth shut and only speak when he absolutely needed to. “Does it taste alright?”
Llew nodded his head once.
His brother breathed a soft sigh. “Llew, please say something. You haven’t said more than ten words since I picked you up. Are you mad at me?”
Llew looked at his brother with eyes that he’d been told were intensely emotion-filled. “I’m not mad at you, Leslie.”
Leslie nervously twisted his hands together. “The counselor said that you may need some time to adjust again, but I want you to know that I missed you very much, and I’m going to help you as much as I can to get back what you lost.”
Llew slowly wiped his mouth with his napkin. He stood and came over to his brother, looking down at him now that he was bigger and a lot wider than him. He put his large hand on his shoulder. “You can’t give me that, Leslie. Eight years of my life are gone. I have to think ahead, think about what I want to do in the future. I won’t be one of those angry men who goes out here and fucks up because they feel someone owes them something. No one owes me anything. Especially not you. Your letters and visits, Leslie.” Llew scrubbed his hand over his face. “They got me through, bro. I could never be mad at you.”
His brother’s emotions quickly surfaced, but he didn’t wipe away the tears, he let them fall. Leslie pulled him in close and Llew allowed himself contact with another human being. It felt… different… foreign. He slowly put his arms around his brother and hugged him back. Before he knew it his brother was coughing and tapping him on the shoulder. “Llew. O-okay. I can’t b-breathe.”
For the first time in what seemed like years, Llew laughed. Genuinely laughed, then smiled. “Now let me finish my roast, it’s definitely still my favorite. You’ll have to teach me how to make it soon.”
Leslie finally looked happy with Llew’s answer. He quickly scooped some into his own bowl and joined him at the small kitchenette table. “You want to take a couple weeks to get acclimated, or do you want to start working with me this week?”
He finished his last bite of the tender meat, wanting some more but not used to asking for seconds. His brother seemed to sense it and swiped his bowl from in front of him, quickly filling it again. He sat back down, looking at him expectantly. “So.”
“How does your crew feel about me working with them?” Llew’s deep voice filled the small kitchen. “You said there are some guys I went to school with that work for you now.”
“I don’t give a damn how they feel. It’s my business. If they don’t like it, they can quit.” Leslie fumed.
“I’ll start whenever you want me to.”
“My guys are paid the standard right now and that’s what you’ll be paid too. Which is sixteen fifty an hour; I start everyone at that rate. I know it’s not much,but after ninety days you’ll get a—”
“Leslie. For the past eight years, I’ve been working manual labor for thirty-two cents an hour. I’m okay with your starting rate.”
A collage of emotions passed across his brother’s face: sympathy, outrage, compassion, and a few others that he didn’t quite recognize since he hadn’t seen those feeling directed towards him in almost a decade. “I’m sorry, Llewellyn.”
Llew stood abruptly, his chest heaving with restrained anger. “I don’t need any apologies, Leslie. Understand that.” He took his bowl and carefully placed it in the sink. “I’m gonna go for a walk, okay?”
Leslie kept his head lowered, but the nod let Llew know he’d heard him. He knew his brother meant well, but he didn’t think he could handle being treated like a pussy. This was his life. He’d accepted it long ago. He didn’t need anyone’s pity or apologies. His pulled his coat tighter around him as he walked up the quiet street. Dusk was approaching quickly and Virginia in November definitely required something heavier and more well insulated than the windbreaker he was wearing. That would be added to the growing list of things he needed to get. He had four hundred thirty-two dollars that he’d saved; all he’d earned working the past eight years. It may seem like crumbs to some; he understood that most men made more than that in one week, but Llew was proud of it.