In the kitchen, Mark put on the kettle and poured in some water. He opened the cabinet and stretched out his hand to take out the coffee, and paused as he looked at the two packets sitting side by side, ground coffee beans and dried tea leaves. Lisa had instructed him on how to prepare strong tea, but… do I let the water boil with or without the tea? Is a teaspoonful too much for one cup? He wondered as he sniffed at the contents of the packet. Not as strong as coffee, he thought as he carefully measured a teaspoon and dropped the tea into the kettle. He watched the chemical process taking place inside meditatively, then as if on impulse added half a cup more of water. The mixture still looked dark. Shrugging, Mark left the tea to sort itself out through boiling and walked to the sitting room. He sat at his desk and switched on his laptop. While he waited for it to boot, he rushed back into the kitchen- to find the tea already boiling. He switched off the gas and peered at the dark concoction through hot steam. The smell was different from that of coffee… and as he sieved it into a cup, observed that the color was darker too, not the muddy color that characterizes coffee. Taking it with him, he found the laptop waiting for his password which he keyed in as he took a tentative sip of his first-time-to-drink drink. He felt a slight shiver akin to lust as he recalled how as a young boy he had looked forward with the same feeling to his first communion, since it would mean finding out how alcohol tasted, legally. He never did find out for after getting into a fight with Paul- who kept insisting that it was not alcohol but sacred wine, Mark had left the church, never to set foot in it again. And while walking along the highway, dusty, angry and hungry, and old man had stopped his car and had given him a lift back home. Beside the old man at the front of the car had been sitting a young girl of about Mark’s age. Mark, sitting at the back had put on his meanest look when the girl had attempted to smile at him. At that moment he felt that he loathed her with all his might. And he wanted to get the message to her as clearly as possible; that he didn’t care whether her name was Vivian Dionte, as she had told him. Through his mean look though he had mumbled that he was Mark Thinn…
The laptop, tired of his delay as he stared at the ceiling and reminisced, went into standby mode. He swiped a finger on the touchpad to revive it- stared at the icons set on a black and white background, and with a heavy sigh, switched it off and stood up. The steaming mug was still where he had set it. He hadn’t liked the taste. Had anyone told him that perhaps he should have added sugar… Outside, the day was breaking, and with it the dawning that time to face it all had come, and a good start was a visit to his brother… who lived in the northern part of Three Tulips. Should I call before going? He was wondering, but he never knew what he decided for sleep overtook him. This time, no dream ruined it.
*****
He had not called before coming. Doing so, he knew would have opened an avenue for him to find an excuse not to come. As he got out of his car and locked it, he noticed the reflection in the highly-polished body. He felt the jab in his back and heard the sharply-barked command,
"Hands where I can see them!" He raised his hands.
"Do not turn around. Now turn around and walk!" He bit the urge to laugh as a smile tugged at his lips,
"But you said not to turn around…"
"No talking!" Whatever was pressed on his back, eased a little, "Turn, slowly!" He obeyed, keeping his eyes straight ahead. Behind him quick footsteps turned also, so as to remain behind him. His captor was between him and his car now, and he had turned half a circle, such that he now faced the house.
"Walk!"
"Okay, okay!" He started walking towards the house, "What is your name?" He asked.
"It is a secret! When we reach the door, you stop!"
"Okay, mystery captor," they walked up the short, cobbled footpath, captor and prisoner, "Here we are…" he stopped, hands still raised, "Now what?"
"Turn around, with your hands spread wide…" he obeyed and did as bid. As he turned, he went down on one knee, and into his arms rushed a pig-tailed girl of about eight, her weapon, a plastic water gun, being flung thoughtlessly away. He hugged her tightly and lifted her up with him as he stood up,
"Oh, it's you!" He feigned ignorance as arms around his neck, his niece Julia accorded him a wide and happy grin.
"Second time to be ambushed by a beautiful girl!" He quipped as he reciprocated her grin.
"Did you believe you were being carjacked?" She asked breathlessly as Mark pulled open the front door and walked in, still carrying her.
"In a carjacking, you take the car," he elaborated as they walked through the short hallway, "Yours was an ambush."
"It was carjacking!" She wiggled up and down in his embrace, "Because there was a car!"
"Oh," he frowned thoughtfully, "Ooh, so that is what it means!"
"Yes!" She yelled with infectious glee, "And I made you walk!"
"Well, then… that means I have to go back to school."
"I did not learn it from school."
"Where then?"
"Like my name, it is a secret. If you find out you die!" She mimicked gun sounds. Mark rolled his eyes up in his head and pretended to go limp. Just as she started squealing in his arms as he pretended to fall, he regained his balance and smiled at her. "Our hero is afraid of falling," he kissed her forehead as he set her down, "I wonder why."
Once firmly on her own two feet, she turned to him, a fierce look on her face, "Remember, my name is a secret!"
"Okay Julia, your name Julia is a secret. I will tell no one, not even your mum who is looking at us," he smiled at Janet Thinn as he held out his hand to her, "I won't tell your mum that your secret name is Julia."
The young girl pointed at him, " You had better not!" She turned and left the room, arms held stiffly at her sides, an unidentifiable beat on her lips. Mark and Janet watched her awhile.
"She's missed you," Janet bade him to the couch, as she sat opposite him, "That was her angry way of showing it."
"It's been long, and she's so grown. Taking more of you, though."
"Really? More and more, I see more of Paul than me in her features."
"The hair, perhaps, the rest is you."
"Yeah, blond. None in my family is blond…"
"My mum was," Mark said, "She used to say…" whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a looming shadow in the front doorway. Mark looked up. Save for the difference in hair color, no other physical trait differentiated the two men, although it was evident that the one standing in the doorway was slightly older, though by only three years.
"I hope you didn't have a hard time finding this place," Paul smiled at his younger brother as he walked in, "Or did you ask for directions?"
"Paul… it's not been that long," Mark stood up and shook his brother's hand.
"If seven months is not long…" Paul sat next to his wife, "Then we shouldn't be worried," he patted her stomach, "Should we Jan?" They both looked at Mark, but it took a moment for him to understand, and when he did, he couldn't hide his surprise, "Wow! Congratulations, Paul, Janet! I stand corrected, it’s been long if there have been such developments!"
"See?" Paul raised his eyebrows, "She needs an uncle too."
"She?" Mark was awed, "You already know the gender?"
"More so to prepare Julia," Janet chimed in, "Who can't wait for her baby sister."
"I'm extremely glad for you both. I wish you all the best..."
"You say it like you're leaving," Paul peered at him closely, "Are you?"
"Paul…" Janet remonstrated her husband, then turned to Mark, "I was just about to start on dinner. I have some pudding though while you wait." She stood up.
"Thank you, Janet," Mark raised his hand in weak protest, "Don't stress yourself on account of me."
"You're not meant to protest," she turned to head to the kitchen, "Coffee coming!" She left. Paul had stood up also and was standing by the stereo, pressing, turning, and adjusting. In a few moments, music filled the room, though he was careful to set the volum
e at a considerate level.
"I know you dislike the loudness," he resumed his seat and settled himself comfortably, assuming the worst sitting/lying posture possible, any back doctor would have had a heart attack at the way he splayed himself.
"Never did," Mark agreed, "I recall dad would use it to get me up in the morning, and especially on Sundays."
"I remember. 'Paul! Mark! You boys! Paul and Mark! Sons!'" They both laughed at the recollection, and especially how convincingly Paul did it.
"How many ways would he call us in that one moment?" He asked.
"I believe he used the chance to communicate with us and be done with it," Mark opined, "Since he would remain so quiet the rest of the day."
"Those were great days…" Paul started to say as Janet reappeared, coffee tray in her hands. She paused and looked at them both meaningfully, then at the dining table near the large window that looked out to the backyard. Without saying anything since they knew that arguing with such silent communication would have been futile, the two men stood up and walked over. She set the tray on the table as they sat, but Mark stopped her as she moved to pour then the coffee, "Permit me," he stood up, "Let me."
"Won't pretend on that," She raised her hands in surrender, "Thank you," she whispered to him and hurried off, calling out to Julia as she went. The young girl answered from some unidentifiable direction outside…
Mark poured the coffee and sat. They remained silent as each stirred their own cup, each deep in thought, each wondering what topic would be an interesting subject. Mark broke the silence first,
"I plan on going back." It was stated simply, as a matter of fact, with no implied impact behind the words, but all the same to impact they did, for Paul, nearly choking on his own coffee, set his cup down slowly and stared at his brother.
"You'll go back to Fatigue?" The disbelief was evident on his face.
"Yes," Mark's eyes did not leave his shocked brother's face.
"Uh… but… Mark, why?"
"Paul, I have to. I made a promise to someone.”
"Is it closure, does it have anything to do with Vivian? Or Mr. Dionte?"
"It's a decision not based on influence Paul… though I could be wrong about that…" the last words were more for his own benefit than Paul's, as his mind briefly recalled Lisa. Now that was a subject he wasn't sure how to broach with Paul.
"Mark…" Paul's face was beginning to clear of its initial shock, "Are you sure… would you like me to accompany you?"
"We'll talk about that after telling you what brought me here… not that I wouldn't have come to visit, but," he hesitated and for a moment saw himself at age thirteen, talking to his sixteen-year-old brother about an uncomfortable subject, mostly to do with girls… "It's about a woman."
"Paul leaned back in his seat, " Mark," he regarded his brother quietly, "I'm glad you came, and I'm grateful that you'd consider talking to me about that."
"Thank you, Paul," Mark stared at his coffee, as if addressing it rather than his brother, "I need to do this." He took a sip.
"I'm not in a hurry to listen, Mark. Better still, spend the night. We'll talk about it with fresh minds in the morning."
Mark opened his mouth to give an excuse but was interrupted by Julia's wailing voice and Janet's scolding one. A little time with his niece wouldn't hurt, he decided. Paul must have read the acquiescence on his face, for he nodded silently.
"See- Julia, watch… you connect them till none has an open end. Do you see how I'm doing it?" Phone on the table, Mark demonstrated to the visibly irritated girl how by tapping at the half circles and lines displayed on the screen, they joined to form one continuous pattern.
"Yes." Julia, standing at his side, shifted from one leg to the other,
"Wanna try?" Mark reset the game and invited her to try. She peered at it as she scratched her armpits,
"It's boring."
"Ah, well. What else would you like to do?"
"A game…" she glanced at her father who was lying on the other couch, eyes closed, "With guns," she whispered, "Dad won't let me play."
"Then I'll get into trouble if I do," Mark whispered back, "But I know just the game for you. Now let's see… loading… yes! Here, let me demonstrate…"
He picked up the phone and holding it in front of her face, tapped at the screen, which showed a vehicle dashboard. He tapped again to change the camera view- just as another vehicle seemingly out of nowhere rammed into it. Mark drove his own car, turning his phone this way and that to simulate steering- and rammed into the vehicle that had just rammed his moments earlier.
"See, this is a derby," he explained… but Julia was barely paying attention. With a gleeful smile on her previously bored face, she jumped up and down,
"Let me! Let me!" Paul opened one eye, peered at the two of them and closed it again. Mark carefully handed the phone over and waited to be consulted for instructions on how to play, but he shouldn't have bothered. Setting herself on the couch beside him, Julia ignored him completely and was lost in the game. A peek at her progress, and he was genuinely surprised, "How did you learn so fast?" He asked her.
"My car is magic," she replied, eyes never leaving the screen, "I have smashed the other car. See, it is burning."
"Wow. Julia, with the secret name…" she smiled briefly at the reminder of her earlier game, "Whose secret name is Julia…"
"Only you know," she tapped at the screen to pause the game, then turned to him, "Put sound," she held the phone out to him.
"We might wake up your dad, and he might… I don't know… that's why I've set it to low."
"Okay," she said simply and resumed the silent game. Mark leaned back, closed his eyes, and let out a sigh. He was tired. But not too tired to think about Lisa and to wonder what she was doing at the moment... and whether she was still as beautiful as she did it… whether she was thinking about him as he was her…
"Yes, I'm thinking about you, come hold and kiss me," she held out her hand, which he took… and she started shaking him vigorously. When he opened his eyes, Julia was still at his side on the couch, shaking him. Standing nearby was Janet.
"Uncle Mark, here's your phone. It's my bedtime."
"Oh, I must have slept," he took the phone from her, "Night, Julia." She waved sleepily as she slid off the couch and walked off.
"Who is Lisa?" Janet asked, a wondering but smiling look on her face. She didn't wait for an answer, and Mark hadn't been about to give any. On the other couch, Paul lay, eyes closed. Whether he was asleep or not, it was hard to tell. Mark closed his own, and when Lisa reappeared once again, he didn't hesitate in giving her what she wanted, all of it.
The moment he opened his eyes and sat up in bed, he knew it. No amount of self kicking or remonstrations could convince him otherwise. As he walked to the bathroom, mind reeling from the sudden impact of that simple truth about God and hate, Mark wept.
"You decided to break up with Vivian?" Paul asked incredulously, "After more than five years of knowing each other? When did this happen?” They were in Paul’s workshop, which was next to the garage. In it were things- at least that is how Mark saw it, but could he have exhibited the slightest interest, Paul would have explained to him the hot bits hanging on coiled wires were soldering guns, the transparent containers held, various electronic components like capacitors, resistors, transistors, or that the soft wire Mark was holding was actually solder… but Mark had no interest in such, and so, to him the workshop was full of things.
“Why am I hearing about it now?" Paul was still looking at him.
"I don't know, you never call?"
"Mark, I never call?"
"Well, we never call each other. I think we should, and more often. Seriously, I thought you knew. Lisa and I…"
"Lisa? Who is she?”
"The girl I met in the bush. She's great. She…"
"Hold the gushing for a moment, Mark- you've already met someone else?"
"People assumed that just because we h
ad been together for long, Vivian and I, the next automatic thing would have been marriage."
"Vivian was the best thing that could have ever happened to you, Mark!"
"You're right, Paul. But our happiness as individuals mattered too. And what we have, me and Vivian, is… a Modesty Blaise Willie Gavin thing.”
"What are they? Anyway, did you two fight?"
"We did not fight."
"Did you sin- cheat?"
"Sin? Seriously?" Mark laughed, "But to answer, no, we did not betray each other. Sexually." He added for comical effect and burst out laughing at the look on Paul's face.
"Then what happened?" Paul set down the pliers he had been holding and turning fully to face his brother, who was still standing, folded his arms across his chest. "Make me understand."
"You have your judgmental tone on," Mark eyed his elder brother carefully. "Paul, you're judging me. You're judgmental."
Paul shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "You’re just being defensive, Mark. You don't like hearing the truth about you from anyone else. Can't you bear being told when you're wrong?"
"I'm wrong? For what?”
“Leaving a perfectly good girl like Vivian. I don’t get it… probably already sinning…”
“What about you Paul, are you that righteous, setting yourself on a higher pedestal, to pass moral judgment on us 'sinners'?"
"Well then, Mark, tell me I'm wrong. Find a fault concerning some aspect of my life. I'm not perfect, no, I'm not. I just want you to tell me what I'm doing, or I've ever done wrong."
Mark stared at him long and hard, a hard look on his face. He knew why Paul had challenged him so; Deep down, Mark admired Paul and his well- adjusted life. Simple and perhaps based on blind beliefs, at least according to Mark, but a good life all the same. Paul could never make wrong choices, but of course Mark would never let him know of his deeper feelings. He only let what was on the surface out,
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