The Mistaken (3 page)

For the next eight days, I shuttled like a zombie
between Nick’s bedside and Kim’s. After several combative
consultations, Kim’s doctor finally persuaded me to terminate her
life-support. I sobbed as the hiss of the machine—the last tangible
sign of her life—fell silent, and Kim’s body stilled. I’d never
again hear her chatter of boys and school dances, of her plans to
follow me and Nick to the States. Her dreams, like her life,
disintegrated, like fog in the warm afternoon sun.

Afterwards, I existed in a foggy limbo. My parents
and sister were gone. Their deaths devastated me, but with Nick so
gravely injured, I had little time to mourn them properly. The
guilt and shame, however, dogged me every minute of the day, like
hounds nipping at my heels. If I had only listened to Nick and
given in to his request, they would all still be alive, and I
wouldn’t be pacing at his bedside, worried he might never walk
again.

Nick’s injuries proved difficult to recover from,
and he spent the next few months in rehabilitation. Jill took time
away from her photography studio, and I practically shut the doors
on my contracting business so we could work closely with Nick’s
physical therapists. It was our mission to help him regain his
strength and mobility, which he ultimately did with great effort.
But the pain was a constant torment, and the guilt he carried over
the deaths of our parents and sister made his recovery even more
difficult.

I don’t know which of those contributed more, but
within four months, Nick was addicted to his pain meds then later
to booze. I found it difficult to accept that Nick would want to
live that way. He was the epitome of life itself, always living on
the edge, one adventure after another. That he would accept a life
mired in addiction—chained to something over which he had no
control—confused and angered me. I urged him to clean himself up. I
even put him in drug rehab, but it didn’t stick. Over the next six
months, his addictions took priority. All I could do was watch as
Nick drifted further and further away.

Jillian tried to help. She and Nick had enjoyed a
playful relationship before the accident, flirtatious even, but
afterwards, he ignored her. We rarely heard from him at all, and
then only when he was in trouble. He couldn’t keep a job, and he
was even caught stealing a couple of times, which landed him in
jail, but somehow he always managed to skate on the charges.

To fuel his habits, Nick attempted an armed robbery
close to his home at a liquor store in San Francisco’s Outer
Richmond District, an area notoriously controlled by the
Solntsevskaya Bratva, a highly-organized crime family originally
from Moscow, now firmly rooted in San Francisco’s Little Russia.
They knew my brother well and didn’t take kindly to him robbing a
store under their costly protection, especially with the owner
screaming for Nick’s blood. My brother realized they were mere
hours away from taking justice into their own hands. Panicked and
frightened, he called me and confessed his careless error in
judgment.

“Careless?” I said, taken aback. “For God’s sake,
Nick, are you insane or just dumb?”

“I know it was stupid, Ty. I don’t need you driving
it into the ground like you always do. But I do need your help. I
need a place to stay until I can smooth things over with those
Russian pricks. I can’t go back to my flat now. They’ll come
looking for me there.”

“Yeah? And what happens when they come looking for
you at our place? You’d put Jill at risk to save your own
neck?”

“
No way, Ty. They don’t even know
about you—or Jill—so they sure as hell don’t know where you live.
It’ll only be for a few days, I swear. Please, brother, I wouldn’t
ask but I don’t know what to do. I have nowhere else to
go.”

Though I resented always being put in the position
of bailing Nick out of trouble, I relented and gave him one week to
clear up his mess, but one week turned into two, then three and
four. A few days ago, he assured me he was close to a resolution,
but in the end, he let his habits get in the way, and when he
ventured out to replenish my depleted bar and score some OxyContin,
he was attacked, beaten, and left for dead on the sidewalk, with me
unconscious beside him. And here I was again, back in the hospital
at Nick’s bedside, fixated on the monotonous rhythm of another
bloody machine, grateful that he had made it through one more
night.

I bounced back into the moment when the door to
Nick’s room swung wide. The ping of the elevator and drone of TVs
rushed in, along with Nick’s doctor, a tall man in his early
forties dressed in green scrubs and blue Crocs. A harried nurse’s
aide followed. She rattled off notes from Nick’s chart then handed
it to the doctor. After checking his IV, she took his vital signs
and turned back to the doctor who mumbled instructions, rapid-fire.
With a nod, she left in a flash of faded pink cotton. The doctor
walked over to my side, his eyes glued to the chart. I remained
seated in the chair with my elbows leaning along the edge of Nick’s
bed.

“Your brother took quite a beating,” he said without
looking at me, “but he’ll recover. His injuries aren’t nearly as
serious as the last time he was admitted.”

He paused and scribbled notes then signed his name
in a grand flourish before returning the chart to its proper place.
He slipped the pen into his pocket and looked at me for the first
time since entering. I wondered what he thought of my two black
eyes and freshly aligned nose.

“No need for rehab this time. He should be up on his
own within a few days and out of here in a week. His nurse will be
back soon with his new meds. She’ll call if there’s any change, but
I think Nick will be just fine. He was very lucky this time. Any
questions?”

I shook my head and held out my hand. “No, Doctor.
Thank you.”

“Sure thing.” He shook with a firm grip and headed
for the door.

After he left, I settled back down and focused on
the monitor’s measured pattern. Nearly an hour later, Nick’s nurse
returned with his meds and asked Jill and me to leave. I placed
Nick’s hand back at his side then stepped away, the steady chime of
the monitor fading into silence behind me.

Chapter Three

Tyler

Five times I watched the dense summer fog march in
and retreat outside the hospital window, five long days of prayers
and pacing before Nick was moved out of the ICU. At last he was
conscious. The swelling around his eyes had eased, and he could
finally see me hovering about his bedside. He was in good spirits,
alert and talkative, though he hardly wanted to hear what I had to
say once the staff left us alone. I’d waited long enough. There was
no easing into it.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Nick, but…that was
pretty stupid, leaving the house like that. I don’t understand. Why
would you do that? I let you stay with us to keep you safe, and you
leave to score drugs? What were you thinking?”

He glared hard at me then looked away, his eyes lost
in the bags of bruised, swollen flesh that still hung around them.
“Bugger off, Ty. I don’t need your shit. I’ve suffered enough as it
is.”

I bobbed my head. “Right. And what about those
Russian blokes? Will they agree? Or are they going to come back and
finish what they started? And what about us? Did you even consider
Jill…or me, for that matter?”

He turned his palms to the ceiling. “What was I
supposed to do, Ty? I need those pills. I can’t get through the day
without them.”

“That’s bullshit. You’ve never even tried. It’s just
easier for you to rely on those pills and the booze than to man-up
and face what’s happened.”

“Oh yeah, right, like you would know. You’ve never
been messed up like I’ve been. If you had only listened to me in
the first place, I wouldn’t be here, and they wouldn’t all be dead.
It wasn’t
all
me, Ty. Admit it. You played your part. You
need to accept your share of the blame, too.”

His words were like a slap in the face, because the
truth of it rang so loudly in my ears. And the fact that I had
always known yet never admitted that truth made it all the more
difficult to accept now. But although Nick’s words had been a long
time coming, I was still stunned by his outright accusation. With a
guilty conscience binding my tongue, I threw him an angry glare and
headed for the door, but his voice pursued me, halting my
escape.

“No you don’t, Tyler! You can’t run away from me. We
need to talk about this, once and for all. Work it all out.”

I stomped back over to face him, my anger defying
the remorse I felt. “And just how do we do that, Nick? You
disregard everything I say, and do whatever the hell you want, damn
the consequences.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, what about you, huh? You refuse to
bend, even just a little. Everything always has to be
your
way, the
right
way, the
only
way.” He shook his head.
“I have to live my own life, Ty. Make my own mistakes. Why won’t
you just let me—”

“Look what your mistakes have cost us, Nick!”

“Because you wouldn’t listen to me! You
never
do! I tried to tell you, but you didn’t hear!” He drummed his ear
with his finger. “I admit my part in all this. I was wrong, yeah,
stupid and foolish. I get that, I do, but…what about you, Tyler?
You had a hand in this, too. You know you did.”

He looked at me as if daring me to refute, but I
could not, because Nick was right. I never bothered to listen, not
really. I always assumed I knew better, that simply being older,
having more experience, somehow made me wiser. I tried to force
Nick to live up to my expectations, by my rules. He warned me when
he didn’t think he could. Yet I ignored him. I couldn’t even look
him in the eye now. He held quiet while I wrestled silently with
both my pride
and
my conscience. Finally, I sighed and
nodded in acceptance for my role. It was about time.

“You’re right. I
am
at fault. I
do
shoulder some of the blame. And I’m sorry I never let you see that.
I never held you solely accountable, Nick. Never. Truth is, that
accident was more my fault than yours.”

He shook his and started to protest, but I held up
my hand.

“No, just listen. I need you to hear this. All of
it.” I settled into the plastic chair with my elbows on my knees
and my head in my hands. “You haven’t said anything I haven’t
thought of a thousand times myself. Yes, I could have helped you
out. Yes, I should have realized you weren’t in the best shape to
drive. You were a kid, and you liked to party. I knew that. I
should have backed down. I’m sorry I didn’t. More than you
know.”

It was difficult admitting my part, knowing full
well that I could have prevented everything: his pain, our guilt,
their deaths. I could have saved everyone.

“I was selfish. I can see that now. I didn’t want to
give up any of my time with Jillian. But, in my defense, we hadn't
known each very long, and for the first time in my life, I was in
love. Maybe I handled it wrong. I don’t know. She just…consumed
me.”

“Yeah, Ty, I remember. That’s when everything
changed. Especially you.”

I looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Nick. Really. You
deserve better. I don’t know what else to say.”

He smiled, just a little. “It’s okay. You don’t have
to say anything. I get it.” His grin grew wide, stretching clear
across his face. “She’s damn hot.”

I chuckled and peered back down at my feet. “Yeah,
she is.”

I shook my head, caught up in memories of our early
days together. I’d never believed in love at first sight, at least
not until I met Jillian Demetrio. I’d been set up on a blind date,
but the girl I was to meet skipped out and sent her friend,
Jillian, instead. It was serendipitous, to say the least.

“
I remember when I first met her.
She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I just sat there
like an idiot, staring at her. All that hair, her gorgeous smile.
And her eyes, God, I got lost in them, right then and there. Not
usually my style, you know.”

“Well no, Ty, I didn’t know. Not then anyway. That’s
why I followed you here from half way ‘round the frickin’ planet,
to be with you, get to know you again. But then
she
came
along and you just…disappeared.” He snapped his fingers. “Shut me
out.”

I hung my head, disappointed in myself. “I know. I’m
sorry. But there was something so different about her, at least
from the girls back home in Melbourne.”

He snorted. “How would you know? You didn’t stay
around long enough to find out.”

His sharp tone put me on the defensive. “Well, I
didn’t fit in like you did. You weren’t even four when we moved. I
was already twelve. I had to leave all my mates back in Maida Vale
and St. John’s. I was never happy in Melbourne. Nobody there seemed
to get me.”

“Maybe they would have if you’d tried to fit in. But
you never did, Ty. Not once.”

“I wasn’t like you, Nick. You were practically born
there. Or you acted like it anyway. Always the wild one, taking
risks and pushing limits with no regard to the rules, just like the
rest of your friends.”

He blew once on his fingernails and buffed them
along his chest. “Yep, that’s me: fearless.” His serious expression
gave way to an ear-to-ear grin.

I snickered. “Yeah, you always were.”

Nick’s smile faded. “Why did you come here, Tyler,
to the States? I always thought you’d head back to London.”

I nodded. “Yeah, me, too. But Pops was adamant I not
return. Said I needed to stay with the family. He was kind of weird
about it. Said it wasn’t safe, but he wouldn’t explain why. Kind of
rubbed me the wrong way, like he thought I couldn’t take care of
myself.” I shrugged. “But even though I resented his interference,
it was hard to disregard his wishes. So I decided to tour America
first then maybe return to London later. But I ended up here. I
like the cool weather. Reminds me a lot of London. For whatever
reason, I’ve always felt at home here, and Jillian is a large part
of that.”