If shame had a face I think it would kind of look like mine
If it had a home would it be my eyes would you believe me
If I said I am tired of this now here we go now one more time
I tried to climb your steps I tried to chase you down
I tried to see how low I could get down to the ground
I tried to earn my way I tried to change this mind
You better believe I tried to beat this
When will this end it goes on and on over and over and over again
Keep spinning around I know it won't stop till I step down from this for good
I never thought I'd end up here I never thought I'd be standing
Where I am I guess I kind of thought it would be easier than this
I guess I was wrong now one more time
This is a sick cycle carousel, this is a sick cycle, yeah
~Lifehouse, "Sick Cycle Carousel"

---

We sit in the emergency room of the hospital, all too numb to feel anything right at the moment. My long divorced parents are actually holding hands, and Candace and I have two children each on our lap. Our ashen faces seem fit for a funeral.

A doctor emerges from the operating room, pulling off some latex gloves. "Well, luckily, he didn't sever any arteries or nerves in his arm, but the cut was quite deep. He should be all right in about three weeks," the doctor announces, and seems bewildered when our faces don't pick up.

Papa steps up to him. "Thank you, Dr. Rosenfeldt. When will we be able to see him?"

"Well, he just came out of surgery, so about two hours seems sufficient. You can take him home whenever you feel that he's ready. All you have to do is check out with the nurse."

"Thank you again. You've done more than enough." Papa turns to Mama, Candace and me, grim faced. "Does anyone want to see him?"

"He's my son, of course I want to see him," Mama cries, pressing a handkerchief over her eyes. "I just want to know why he would...do such a - "

"Mama, it's all right." I touch her arm.

"It's not, Valya! If only I'd paid more attention, I would have noticed - I thought it was nice he started paying attention to you! I thought, 'Oh, Pavlusha's just being a good big brother'! I didn't know - !" She cuts herself off, covering her face with her hands.

Papa sighs and touches her shoulder. "It's my fault, Tatiana. Maybe if I weren't so hard on the boys, he wouldn't have - "

I shake my head. "That's not it either. He's sick, Papa. He needs help. Blaming ourselves isn't going to make him get better."

Papa stares at me, softening his hard, stone-like black eyes. "You, of all people, have a right to be angry at him, Valya."

"That's not in my nature, Papa. I can't hate him for something he can't control," I reply, weakly, kissing the top of Natasha's head.

My father sighs. "Do you want to be the first to see him, Valya? I can't look at him." He shakes his head, sadly. "I can't look at the monster he's become."

I sigh. Mama is avoiding eye contact with me, blowing her nose, Papa is staring out a window, and Candace is fussing over the children. "Okay, I'll go then."

Mama and Papa share 'looks'. "Are you sure?"

"He needs someone right now. We can't turn our backs on him like he's not family anymore," I say, softly.

"You don't have to do this," Papa states, firmly. "He's put you and your wife through enough hell - "

"I have to do this, Papa. Not for him, but for me, okay?" I stand up and shove my hands into my pants pockets, wandering away from the cramped, suffocating hospital lobby.

I want some time to myself, to think, before I see him.

---

I slip into Pavel's room and take note of the brightness and cheer the open curtains and flower arrangements bring to the room. And then I look at his face and my spirits fall.

"Va-Valya," he croaks, when he sees me. "What are you doing here?" He reaches up with his good hand and wipes at his eyes, crusted with sleep.

"I'm here to see how you're doing, Pavel," I state. I'm going to be strong, I'm not going to crack in front of him.

He struggles to sit up and presses his index finger down on on a button to raise his bed. "Hey," he laughs, sadly, usually bright blue eyes hollow and dull. "This is a cool bed, eh," he says, his tenure in Vancouver sneaking through.

I sit by his bedside, on a hard wooden chair. "Yeah, it is."

He turns his eyes on me, offering me a weak, watery smile. "I always wanted one of these when I was a boy," he whispers. He brushes the back of his hand over my cheek, plastic and bandage from his IV scraping over my skin roughly. "Smile, Valya."

I rub my cheek where his hand had touched me. "Why?"

"Why not," he counters, with a slight smirk.

'He has a point...' I sigh, leaning forward, resting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. "Papa doesn't want to see you."

"No surprise."

"They're mad at you, Pavel. They want to disown you," I mutter.

"And what do you think?" he asks.

I look at him. "About what?"

"What do you think should happen to me?"

I shrug. I'd learned a lot in the few days since Candace found out about our sick little 'secret'. Whereas I'd been so quick to defend him before, I wasn't so sure now. "I think you need help, and not just a monthly trip to see a sports shrink. You know I'm right, too."

He nods, slowly. "I know, Valya." He looks down at his bandaged arm and sighs. "I almost severed some nerves and arteries. Not to bright, eh?"

I tilt my head to the side. "Nope, not at all."

He smiles, this time a genuine grin. "Maybe, when I get out of the hospital, we can...you know, try to make up for lost time? Like when we were little kids... Before Mama and Papa got divorced..."

He sounds so youthful and full of hope, that I can't bear to crush his spirits. But that lingering doubt is still there. "I don't know, Pasha," I mumble. "I don't think we can ever be the way we were."

He stares at me for a long time, without speaking. When he finally does, his voice is shaking uncontrollably. "I've lost you, haven't I, Valya?"

I ponder the meaning of his words in my mind. Lost me? As a brother or a lover?

"I just wish we could start over, and I know that can't happen, and I feel...so...awful for ruining our relationship. And if I could change it I would, Valya, you know I would," he rambles, tears leaking out of his eyes. "I... After I cut myself, I...realised something."

"What?"

"Papa was right about me."

"What? What was he right about," I ask, thoroughly confused.

"Papa was right when he said I was a failure as a son. He was right, Valya. I have all this wealth, but no one to share it with. I've got no one now, my family hates me, you hate me. Mama and Papa hate me, and I don't think your wife ever liked me." He shrugs, sadly. "It took me too long to realise it, Valya. And I let you slip through my fingers. I tried to hold on to you, but the tighter I squeezed, the more you just slipped from my fingers."

I sigh and rest my head on my forearm. He moves his fingers through my hair, gently.

"Remember the day we went to the beach?" he asks, softly. "When I was seven and you were four?"

I shrug and shake my head.

"I picked up the black sand in my hands and I didn't want to share with you," he says, softly, brushing his fingers over the back of my neck. "I was selfish, and didn't want to share. When my palm was open, I had the most sand, but when I squeezed it shut, it slipped from my grasp."

I nod, slowly.

"You're like that sand. All of you," he whispers. "I lost you a long time ago. I just realised it too late. I thought that by giving myself to you, I could win you back... You were so much smarter than me. Papa was always upset you got As in school and I could only muster Cs... He wanted me to be you, Valya."

"But you were better - "

"He loved you best," Pavel counters, sharply, warning with his eyes not to challenge him. "I was so mad when we were kids. I blamed you for stealing Papa's love and admiration. I wanted to be you."

"But why did you - " I ask, and pause, unable to bring myself to say it.

"I was so jealous of you, Valya. You had their love and admiration. You were the golden boy," he whispers, his voice tinged with pained inflections. "You were everything I wanted to be..."

"You idol worshiped me? ME?" I ask, astonished. Pavel had always wanted to be ME?

"When I learned I was to play in that tournament in Canada, I lost it. I couldn't bear the thought of being apart from you, Valya. I was so unstable, and I didn't know what to do... That was the year I started cutting myself," he whispers, closing his lightly bruised eyelids. "I don't know why I hurt you. I don't have an explanation. I wish I did... I was so lost and confused..."

I nod. It all seems so much clearer now. Pavel's self-destructive behavior, his unwillingness to be apart from me, his intermittent spurts of aggressive, impulsive behavior. His inability to maintain a solid romantic relationship. It made sense now. I take his hand in mine.

"I'll be there for you, Pavlusha," I whisper, giving his hand a squeeze.

He gazes at me, his blue eyes wide with joy. "You don't hate me?"

I shake my head. "I can't hate you. I tried for many years to hate you, Pavlusha. I failed."

He sighs happily, and gives my hand a squeeze. "Maybe I'm not so lost anymore," he says, picking at a thread unraveling from his hospital blanket. "Maybe you've found me."

I smile. "Maybe."

Maybe we could become the brothers we used to be. Maybe we could rebuild our relationship. Maybe we could get him through this turbulent time in his life.

Maybe not.

I don't know what road I'm traveling, or where it's leading me, but at least I'm traveling it with Pavel.

Maybe there are such things as happy endings.

Who knows? Only time will tell.

So you liked it? Send Alex some f/b.

Part 9 | AN