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Don’t you ever want the kind of family where you’re just allowed to be…   My brother trails off, his sad blue eyes etched with lines There are 13 years between us, and it’s been 5 since we last met We’re having brunch opposite the Henry Moore Institute The empty restaurant is decorated with imitation sweet peas, a garish canopy of purple and white plastic droops above our heads He’s insistent I eat and determined to pay   He took care of us, my sister and me He took care of everyone, even our other brother, the eldest, loudest, favourite We never called them our half-brothers, because why describe the family you saw the most as anything less than whole   He gave me my first Hooch First listen to Jagged Little Pill, hedgerows clawing at our headlights, driving fast down dark country lanes He taught me how to shape the visor on a baseball cap, how to banter I learned about my desire by observing his Furtive looking from the back seat or barstool Standing in the bathroom at a house party, trying not to watch as his girlfriend has a wee Her glossy brown hair smelt of coconuts, stone-wash denim bunched around her thighs Heartbroken when they ended   My brothers They had done everything and got away with it My mother: terrified   Approaching the barrier at Leeds station, an image of him materialises Twenty-three   years ago, a young man waiting for us on the other side That’s what physical places can do: time travel Today, I’ve arranged to meet him because he’s been absent The proper term is estranged No blowout or cross words, just a slow disappearance, like a newspaper clipping gently fading in the sun   From our brothers my sister and I learnt the art of keeping secrets We did not speak of our experiences, of difficulty or pain We disconnected Silence was easier Which is to say, our mother couldn’t cope with who we wanted to be   It would crush her   Our combined longing fills the