Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Chapter Twenty-Five: Apology and Confession

Joe’s bedroom door was partly open, so I didn’t knock, just gave it a little push to widen the entry and leaned against the doorjamb. He was sitting on the floor next to his bed, cross-legged, and looked up tiredly as the hinges creaked. I hesitated in the doorway, not too sure of my welcome.

“Joe, I-”

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t be so over-sensitive,” he interrupted me.

“I shouldn’t be such an asshole,” I countered, moving across the room and carefully kneeling beside him. He closed his eyes and sighed, then got up and helped me to my feet. We both sat down on his bed and I rested my hand on his arm. “Just because I’m on medication is no excuse for me to be all cranky and rotten to you, Joe. And it isn’t even that, ‘cause I was being pretty unpleasant even before I was on the painkiller.”

Joe looked a little puzzled. “When?”

“Oh, like when I snapped at you for teasing me, before we went up to Vermont . And I wasn’t any too easy to live with after we got back to Vermont from Canada- I was annoyed with Biff and Chet and you got some overflow from that. And I got all pushy with you before we left home, too, when you didn’t feel like explaining about your dreams. Not to mention-” I was counting off on my fingers when Joe interrupted me.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered. “You’ve been...more uptight than usual this summer. I guess I hadn’t sat down and counted- I try not to do that. Anyway, you did have reasons to be in a bad mood.”

“And no matter how low I feel, I always feel worse when I take it out on you,” I returned.

He sighed again. “That’s why I shouldn’t let it get to me, I can see how guilty you feel about it,” he answered, studying the carpet. “But I can’t just- brush it off and pretend it didn’t happen, either. It-” He hesitated, seeming to brace himself. “It makes me feel like I can’t do anything right...”

I chewed on my lip until enough of my guilt eased for me to talk. The last thing in the world that I wanted to do was trigger him into another bout of low self-esteem. “Joe, you’re the only one who has done things right for me,” I told him, putting my arm around him. “You- you’ve taken care of me, and I didn’t even have to ask you to, you just did. And I don’t think I’ve even said thank you once.”

“You have,” he retorted quickly. “Several times.”

That wasn’t much consolation. “Even so, thank you isn’t very much. I don’t mean to make you feel bad, and I know I shouldn’t get on your case for things that really aren’t your fault at all. Especially when you’re being so- good to me.”

He didn’t answer that, which meant he agreed.

“I didn’t want to come home,” I confessed after a moment. I owed him an explanation for my mood as well as an apology for it, even though I wasn’t too sure I wanted to talk about my feelings yet.

My brother turned to me with an astonished look. “But-?”

“I’m worried about what’s going to happen with Mom. We never exactly finished that argument, you know, and it’s gonna come up again- and I’m not looking forward to it. And...I wanted to go downstairs and be with you all- I could hear you all talking and wanted to come down and join in. But I thought about it and wondered if me being there wouldn’t just make things awkward. Felt like maybe you’d got used to me not being around and wouldn’t want to, to include me. It made me lonely. You- all three of you, not just ‘you’- sounded so...cheerful, without me... Egotistical, I guess,” I concluded lamely.

“Insecure, I guess,” Joe retorted, leaning against me. “No wonder you’re so down and grumpy. Feeling left out from your family is rotten. We were cheerful ‘cause you’re home, Frank. Believe me, the last couple weeks, it’s been Gloom City in this house. We’d go through whole meals without saying more than three words apiece. And laughing? Forget it.” He looked up at me earnestly. “Now that you’re well enough to be home, this place really does feel like ‘home’ again. It hasn’t.”

I sighed, gave him a faint smile and a tight squeeze, feeling a little foolish but also feeling a lot better. “Thanks,” I murmured. “Thanks, Joe- for everything. Aw, heck, I could say it a zillion times and it still wouldn’t feel like enough.”

“Once is enough for me,” he answered, smiling as I lifted my hand to ruffle his hair. “Say- did you really finish all that pudding so fast?”

“Hm? Oh, no, I didn’t even start on it.”

Joe regarded me in surprise, then grinned. “If you don’t want it...”

“Sure, I want it, but I had something more important to do, first.”

He looked puzzled briefly; I gave him a significant look and he suddenly blushed, understanding. “Oh...well, go eat your dessert before the thought of all that chocolate tempts me too much,” he ordered, gently pushing my hand from his hair.

I obeyed, feeling relieved, but one thought kept returning to haunt me.

One of these days, he’s not going to forgive me.

I didn’t know if that came from my own fears or if it was a logical conclusion, but either way it sent a cold chill through me. As I reached my own room and sat regarding the pudding dish, I mused on the thought and finally concluded it was a logical, if extreme, idea. Joe doesn’t handle unfairness or injustice well, and he’s utterly intolerant of anyone who betrays him. That meant my recent habit of snapping at him and taking out my frustrations on him was a double strike against me; not only was I bruising his feelings, I was betraying his sense of fair play. If I kept it up, his forgiveness would get more and more grudging, and in time I would hit the point of no return.

I shivered, resolved at all costs to cease such destructive behavior, and wondered rather bleakly if he still wanted my dessert. I had no stomach for it at all.

“Are you still trying to tempt me?”

I jerked my head up in surprise. “Huh? Oh-”

“Mom wants the dish, if you’re done with it, so she can run the dishwasher,” Joe explained from the hallway. “So stop sitting there looking like you’ve lost your best friend, and either eat it or give it away. But most especially, stop looking so miserable, okay?” he added more gently when I didn’t react. “It’s okay, big brother. Jeez, you tell me not to guilt-trip myself so much- take some of your own advice. It’s not like you make a habit of picking on me, and you always apologize when you do. You’re human, Frank, just like everyone else; you’re allowed to make mistakes.”

“I hate feeling like I’ve been unfair,” I explained, picking up the spoon and taking a tentative taste of the richly creamy chocolate. “I know how much you despise unfairness- and I do too, so when I do it-” I shrugged.

“Yeah, but what bugs me most about unfairness is when people won’t acknowledge it or admit that it’s wrong. Or when they do admit it but then go right back to being unfair. They say they’re sorry, but as soon as you forgive them, they

act like it’s an invitation to go on and do it again. You don’t do that. When you catch yourself being unfair, you stop, and when you apologize, you mean it.” Joe canted his head, giving me his best ‘encouraging smile’ and I had to smile back. Then I set about finishing the pudding; my appetite had returned, my mood lifting as he set me straight.

“You’re right,” I agreed, between mouthfuls. “There is a difference. Thanks for the dose of perspective, bro- along with everything else. You’d do great on the debate team,” I added after a moment. “Very persuasive.”

Joe just grinned, waited till I had finished the pudding, and took the dish and spoon downstairs for me. I settled back on the bed, feeling about ninety percent better, and let my eyes close.

I am so lucky to have him for a brother.