The rest of the ride to the airport is silent as Pa listens to his favorite Gospel station on the radio. We reach the airport and I make my way into the airport. It only takes me a minute or two to make it to the baggage claim in the relatively small airport to find Glen standing with two bags looking around nervously. Glen is not usually nervous.

I was ten and Glen was sixteen. He picked on me all the time. Stole food off my plate at dinner, hit me a little too hard, and made fun of the yellow blanket I still carried around. Glen adapted to the rules of the family quite easily. Glen wasn’t mean spirited but easy going so I couldn’t blame him for blindly following the expectations. Glen was a jock and your conventional teenage boy so it wasn’t too difficult for him.

When Glen was eighteen and graduated from high school, I begged for him to not go away to college. I pleaded with him to not leave me with the now thirteen-year-old Victoria, a full-fledged teenager in every sense. I understand now, five years later, that Glen had to leave. He had to get out of this bubble that we are protected by here. Glen went to school in New York, a big city. He talked to the family often at first but eventually drifted away. Glen always reassured the family though, that he was not being corrupted by the city, full of sin.

Glen notices me coming and suddenly drops his bags and envelopes me in a strong hug. I have always loved Glen’s hugs, comforting and confident. I realize that no one else is with him and ask him, “Where’s Chelsea?” with an eyebrow rose.

“She had an important call with a director of a gallery in Austin.” Glen picks up on my worried look and quickly adds, “She’ll be here in two hours.”

I’ve never met Chelsea before. I visited Glen and Madison, his former fiancée, when I visited him in Dallas last year. Glen got a great marketing job right out of college last year. I begged him to convince my parents to let me travel to Dallas to visit my brother.