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wouldn’t give up trying to win her back, to convince her
to forgive me if it took me the rest of my life.  “She was out cold and
freezing, so I got her out of her wet clothes and put the robe on her.  And
convinced her that we needed to let you know where she was.”
    I’ll
admit it, and it’s fairly obvious by the chain of events that brings us to this
point that I can be an overbearing, volatile, hot-headed asshole from time to
time.  This turned out to be one of those times.  Jake had found Lila, given
her shelter and talked her into allowing me back into her life.  All those
things registered as the acts of a loyal, conscientious brother, which I’d
later thank him for.  But the only detail I could concentrate on, however, at
that moment in time was one:  I got her out of her wet clothes and put the
robe on her.
    He’d
stripped her, as she lay unconscious.  He’d seen her naked, and I had no doubt
he’d enjoyed every minute of his oh-so-righteous act.  My nerves were shot
twelve times over by this stage, and as much as I might have tried to cling to
the last vestiges of my self-control, it was a lost cause.  Very carefully, I
eased my clasp from Lila’s hand.  I stood up.  And I lunged at my brother.
    It
wasn’t the first time I’d taken my frustrations out on my brother and probably
wouldn’t be the last.  He used me as his therapeutic punching bag on a regular
basis, too, and had since he’d grown to almost my height.  I still outweighed
him, though.  This time, he’d been expecting retribution, I could tell.  He knew he was guilty.  He knew he’d enjoyed salivating all over my naked
girlfriend, whatever the circumstances might have been.  He fell as I landed on
top of him and I got a good left hook in before he punched me in the stomach. 
We rolled and growled and punched and knocked over a table.  I got in a few
more solid hits but Jake’s a scrappy fighter and we’re evenly matched.  And he
was as amped-up tonight as I was.  We might have killed each other if it wasn’t
for Lila.  As soon as I felt her hand touching my shoulder, I froze, breathing
hard.  Jake did, too.  She was too close to risk any more violence.  She couldn’t be harmed.
    “Stop
it right now, the two of you,” she said sternly, her face heart-breakingly
serious and mind-numbingly beautiful.  Like an angel, crouched there, scolding
us.  “Alexander, you leave him alone.  He’s been only kind to me.  And good.  He
found me, and he helped me.  He’s done nothing wrong.”
    Jake
turned to me.  “I didn’t do anything,” he said.  “I wanted to,
but I wouldn’t do that to you, brother.  I wouldn’t .  Not after
everything.  I was keeping her safe for you.  She’s for you.  She’s good for
you.  You deserve her.”
    My
brother, as close as we’ve been over the years, was not especially
sentimental.  He keeps his emotions, generally speaking, close to his chest.  It’s
sort of a defence mechanism of his, I’ve learned.  This was the most emotional
thing I’d ever heard him say.
    And
I believed him.  I believed him so much it hurt.
    Then
he turned to Lila and said, “You should forgive him.  He saved me, and it
wasn’t easy.  That’s why he acts the way he does: he had to.  He had to be a
mother and a father and a brother and a provider.  I was a fucked-up kid who
needed help.  And he helped me.  Every day.  Every single fucking day of my
miserable fucked-up life.  He never gave up on me.  He still hasn’t given up on
me, and that’s saying something.  He can help you, too, Lila.  He’s the most
generous person I know and you should forgive him.  He didn’t mean to hurt
you.”
    With
that, Lila kissed Jake’s cheek.  “Thank you,” she said to him.  “Thank you for
saving me tonight.”  Then she turned to me, and I noticed she wasn’t crying
anymore.  “Alexander, I’d like to go home now,” she said.
     
    Lila
     
    Alexander
gently picked me up