After the Storm (All I've Ever Needed) by Jewel Moore

just lying on her back staring up at the ceiling, too distraught to eat.
    She might have stayed in the same position indefinitely if Nathan hadn’t called her at four the next morning to say that he was on his way over to crash on her sofa.   He had gone to a nightclub to celebrate one of his friend’s nineteenth birthday and had drunk too many beers.   Natalie’s place was nearer to the nightclub, but she had tried to persuade him to go home instead.   He had pleaded with her, saying that he didn’t want their parents to see him in his inebriated state and she had given in.
    He had enveloped her in a half-drunken bear hug on his arrival and she’d barely stopped herself from crying out in agony.   Thankfully, he had kicked off his shoes and immediately gone to sleep, his feet dangling over the arm of the chair.
    He hadn’t awoken until after midday.
    Natalie had avoided his gaze as she had made him brunch and finally he had demanded playfully, “What’s the matter with you?   Did I fart in my sleep or something?”
    Natalie had been forced to look him in the eye and when he saw her face, he’d sworn violently.
    “Who did this to you?”   He’d cupped her jaw gently as he turned her face up to the light and it had brought tears to her eyes.   Not knowing about Michael, Nathan assumed the worst.   “My God, Natalie, did someone rape you?”
    “No.   It was Michael…my boyfriend.”
    “Where is he?”   Nathan had looked around the flat, as if hoping that Michael was hiding somewhere, so he could drag him out and beat him senseless.
    “He went home afterwards.”
    “Where does he live?”
    “I don’t know.”   The reality of it had hit her then—Michael had never disclosed his address although they had been sleeping together for months.
    “Do you have his number?”
    “Yes,” she’d admitted.   He hadn’t given it to her, but once when he was struggling to finish an assignment he had called her and she had saved the number.
    “Call him for me.”
    “Nat, please leave it alone.”
    “Natalie, call him now!”
    Up until that was the moment she’d thought of Nathan fondly as her little brother.   As Natalie pressed Michael’s number on her mobile and handed it to Nathan, she’d realized that he had become a man while she wasn’t looking.
    “Hey, this is Nathan, Natalie’s brother.”   Natalie had never heard her brother speak so coldly to anyone.   “I’m at her flat right now.   Do you want to meet me, bro?”
    Natalie was surprised that Michael didn’t simply end the call when he’d heard her brother’s voice, but the seriousness of his tone must have frightened Michael.
    “If you come near my sister again, I will kill you.   Do you understand me, bro?”   Michael must have responded because Nathan continued before he’d disconnected the call, “Good, because this is your first and final warning.”
    Nathan’s face as he’d said the words had been unrecognizable—he’d looked capable of carrying out his threat without a minute’s hesitation.   It had confirmed Natalie’s fears that, like her father, if Nathan had a chance to put his hands on Michael it would end badly.   She would have never forgiven herself for getting him embroiled in a situation that had been of her own making.
    Nathan had demanded an explanation.   She hadn’t told him everything—some things you don’t tell a brother, but she’d told him about Michael telling her that she was too tall,   too dark and her hair too short to be seen on his arm.
    Her brother had the same smooth dark skin she had inherited from their mother and people often complimented him for having beautiful skin.   No one ever believed all he used was plain soap and water.   He had modeled for just over a year when he was sixteen, but had filled out his large spare frame before his eighteenth birthday.   Work had dried up when he refused to diet to achieve the androgynous look popular with designers at the time.