by Brent, Cora
In the meantime she needs to take this trip to Dallas. I feel mildly guilty about dropping a bombshell on her earlier but she’s owed the truth and I’m not the one she needs to hear it from.
I’m finally feeling tired but there’s not enough time to try for sleep so I suck it up, brew a pot of coffee to keep me awake and get ready for work. I’m ready to leave and wondering why Shane isn’t up when he stumbles out of his room. He looks like he might not have showered but he’s dressed and he accepts a cup of coffee while stuffing a piece of bread in his mouth for breakfast.
“Let’s go make some fucking muffins,” he says, pounding me on the back before heading out the door. “I’ll meet you there.”
At the bakery I try to keep my mind on work but I feel off balance today. I keep thinking I should have gone into Caris’s room anyway this morning. I’m not sure what time she’s being picked up for her airport ride but at ten I tell Shane that I need to run a quick errand and I’ll be right back. He asks no questions.
I drive straight over to the house but she’s already gone. It’s just as well. She’ll find the gift in her purse, if she hasn’t already. She’ll understand.
It’s kind of irrational how much I already miss her. I’m kicking myself for the weeks wasted by being a jackass when I could have been with her sooner. By shutting out the past I didn’t just reject the bad parts but also the good. Caris is all good. I’ll never make the same mistake again.
Back at the bakery, I begin to notice something about Shane. He’s weird today. Weird in a terribly familiar way. Irritable and unable to focus. Luckily Delia is here filling in for Caris. Shane screws up the recipes, drops things in the kitchen and forgets batches in the oven.
Delia soothes him in a motherly way, believing he’s just anxious. She doesn’t understand that there’s something else going on. But I do.
The last few days I’ve been preoccupied with Caris and I’ve let my concerns about Shane fall to the wayside. It’s time to take action.
A few minutes before closing I tell Delia she can take off. There hasn’t been a customer in nearly an hour and I’m just mixing up batter for tomorrow while Shane begins emptying the bins of whatever’s left.
The doorbell chime signals Delia’s departure and I set the last bowl of batter in the fridge with care. If anyone had ever told me that I’d be stressing out about mixing up the perfect chocolate cupcake and worrying over the texture of scones I would have laughed until my guts hurt.
Shane looks up when I emerge from the kitchen. He’s putting most of the uneaten food in reusable plastic containers, which are dropped off a couple of times a week at a nearby homeless shelter. It was Caris’s idea. Once a week she collects the food containers.
“You want me to take those down today?” I ask him, going to the door and turning the CLOSED sign out.
“If you want.” He snaps a lid, straightens up and rubs his eyes. “I got some shit to do anyway.”
“With Lana?”
“No, she’s at work.”
“Can I come with you?”
He shoots me an odd look. “What the hell for?”
“Because Caris isn’t in town and I’m bored. Also because we haven’t been hanging out a lot lately.”
“Let’s go out tonight then,” he says and tries to move past me. “I’ll see you at the house later.”
Shane is surprised when I place a hand on his chest to stop him.
“What’s up?” He backs up a step, wary all of a sudden.
I try to get him to look me in the eye. “Where are you going, Shane?”
He huffs and turns his head aside. “Told you I’ve got shit to do.”
“What are you on these days?”
His head snaps to my face, his eyes defiant. “Don’t pull this fucking crap on me right now.”
“Then don’t bullshit me. You’re drinking too much and you’re popping pills left and right. You’ve been on this road before, buddy. It’s a bad one.”
His shoulders slump and he looks at the floor. I reach out and put a hand on his shoulder. He gruffly swats me away.
“Fuck this,” he mutters and charges for the door.
I’m bigger. I’m stronger. I can stop him.
I brace my right arm across the door so he can’t open it, even when he yanks hard on the handle.
Shane glares, tries to slam into my chest to throw me off balance. I shove him off with ease and he staggers.
“What the fuck’s your plan, Jay? To hold me hostage?”
“My plan is to get you help if you need it. And I think you do.”
He’s angry. In fact I wouldn’t be surprised if he takes a swing at my head. This is not really Shane. This is just what that garbage does to him.
“When did you become such a motherfucking life expert?” he growls.
I remain calm but don’t move my hand from the door. “I’m no expert on anything. I’ve just seen this movie before and I don’t want to watch it again. I’m worried about you. And so is Lana. You know the house has thin walls, right? I can hear when you guys argue at top volume.”
He wilts at the mention of his girlfriend. He no longer looks like he wants to punch me. He sinks right down to the floor and puts his elbows on his knees.
“I’m scaring her,” he mutters, sounding as miserable as he’s ever sounded. “Fuck, it’s the last thing I want to do.”
I take my hand away from the door. He won’t go running out now. I drop to the floor beside my best friend.
He raises his head and shows me bloodshot eyes. “I’ll never really do have it beat, do I?”
My heart cracks. If I could take this burden from him then I would.
“You will, Shane. You will.”
He exhales heavily and smacks his leg. “I thought I could juggle it all, man. The girl, the house, the business. And then I stopped sleeping. So now I take shit to help me sleep. And I take shit to help me wake up. And between all that I drink to blur the sharp edges a little.”
Of all the demons I’ve faced, and there are many, addiction has never been one of them. I know from watching others fight their battles that it’s a struggle unlike any other. I wouldn’t wish it on an enemy.
“Lana wants me to go to rehab again,” he sighs. “Maybe she’s right. It’s the only thing that ever seems to work, at least for a while. I don’t want to let this place go but I might have to.”
I nudge him. “You don’t have to do anything. You’ve got all the help you need for as long as you need it.”
He shakes his head. “You can’t be my savior forever, Jay. It’s not fair to you. None of this is fair to Lana, either.”
“Fuck that shit. I’m not your savior. Don’t you remember back in Hell House? We made a pact and it was you and me. We’re brothers, Shane. I learned early in life that blood doesn’t count for a thing. You’re my brother in every way that counts. So I’m not fucking going anywhere. And you know what else? That sweet girl who’s worrying herself to pieces over you isn’t going anywhere either. You have people who love you. Get used to it.”
He chuckles. “You’ve always been bossy as hell.”
“Just part of my charm.” I hold my hand out. “Give it to me.”
He doesn’t ask what I’m talking about. He reaches into his back pocket and withdraws a plastic bag with a couple of white pills twisted inside a bubble. When I press him, he admits that he’s got more at home so that’s the next place we need to go.
After dropping off the leftover food at the homeless shelter we go through the house and clear out all the booze. He hands over the rest of his crap and lets me pick apart his bedroom to prove that there’s nothing else hidden.
Then we sit down on the back patio and wait for Lana to come home so we can all have a talk about what Shane needs to do to get healthy.
Lana’s on board right away and I’m glad I wasn’t wrong about her. She holds Shane’s hand the entire time and tells him that she’s proud of him, that she loves him, that she’ll be here when
he wins this last battle.
He’s worried about the bakery but I’m confident that I can run the bakery with Caris while he’s getting well. Delia would likely be willing to work some extra shifts and we could always get some temporary help if necessary to fill in the gaps. Shane does better with inpatient treatment and the good facilities are expensive. Luckily, there’s a small life insurance policy from Ruby that Shane just received and the bakery is starting to bring in money again. Lana immediately volunteers to find a nice, reputable place that’s not too far away.
Once the emotional flood subsides and we have a plan in place we order Chinese takeout and pig out on the back patio. Shane’s yawning by the time dusk settles because he hasn’t slept right in weeks. Lana takes him to bed to tuck him in and I don’t expect to see her for a while but she returns fifteen minutes later, right after I’ve finished cleaning up the takeout containers.
“He went out like a light,” she says and sinks into a patio chair. She presses fingers to her temples, looking rather tired herself.
I choose the chair across from her and sit back down.
“You holding up okay?” I ask and she stops pressing on her temples.
“I’ll be okay if he’ll be okay.”
“He will be.”
She nods. “You really are a brother to him, Jay.”
“Always will be.”
A tear falls down her cheek but she smiles. “I really love him.”
“I know you do.”
A slight breeze produces ripples in the pool and we stare out at the water.
“I want to ask you something completely nosy and out of line,” she says.
“I probably won’t answer but you’re free to give it a shot.”
“Do you love Caris?”
“Whoa.” I shift in my seat. “That’s pretty blunt right there.”
“Told you I was nosy.”
“Caris and I…” I say, and then the words trail away.
“You love her,” Lana declares.
I remain silent and without warning she socks me in the shoulder. Of course it doesn’t hurt.
“What the hell?” I sputter.
She tilts her chin up with a stubborn expression. “Caris is extremely loveable.”
“I know that,” I mutter.
She smiles. “So you do love her.”
I change the subject slightly. “Have you heard from her today?”
She cocks her head. “Yeah, she texted while I was in there with Shane. I made her promise to tell me when she arrived. I haven’t told her what’s going on here. Didn’t want to say it in a text. She’s at her parents’ house.”
“Good. I mean I’m really glad she got there safe.”
“Why don’t you just call her?”
“Eh, she’s with her folks. Let them have their time together. She knows where to find me and she’ll be back soon.”
“All right.” She shrugs and rises from the chair. “Think I’m gonna start researching rehab places and then join my sweet boy in dreamland.”
“Thanks, Lana.”
She pats my arm in solidarity before she goes.
The wind continues to pick up. Flashes of lightning slice across the eastern edge of the sky. The idea of calling Caris is a tempting one. There’s no other sound I’d rather hear right now than her voice.
Then I remember that she’s got some family issues to sort out and that’s thanks to me and my big mouth. She should have found the gift in her purse by this time. She’ll call me if she wants to talk.
I can hear the thunder now, low and rumbling in the distance. When I was little I was terrified of thunderstorms. I was convinced I’d be struck by lightning. My older brother Rafe knew this and would hassle me about it without mercy. That’s what big brothers do, of course, but Rafe was worse than most and he just got more out of control with every passing year. Nine years have gone by since I last spoke to my brother. Anyone else might think it’s high time to do something about that.
“A brother is a brother.”
But they don’t know Rafe like I do.
Johnny, Age 13
“Here.” He drops a bag of frozen peas on the sofa beside me.
I pick it up and fling it on the floor. A risky move, considering it’s Rafe I’m dealing with.
“I’m not hungry,” I announce.
He sighs with irritation, grabs the bag off the floor and throws it directly in my lap.
“It’s to put on your face, moron.” He sinks down on the opposite end of the sofa, glares at me like I’m the world’s biggest loser and shakes his head.
“Thanks,” I grumble.
I carefully press the cold bag against my swollen eye. I don’t know if it’ll help at this point. My eye is already puffy as hell and not likely to go down much tonight. But this is Rafe’s half ass way of apologizing for the beating. At least I’m getting better at fighting back. I got in a few good shots before he knocked me to the ground and slammed his boot into my ribs.
He seizes the television remote and I don’t care because there’s nothing to watch anyway. All we can access are local stations that come in via the spindly antenna and even those are kind of fuzzy.
“Is there anything to eat?” he says. He’s wearing his Killer football jersey again. I wonder when he washed it last.
“Go see for yourself,” I answer and I must be in a reckless kind of mood because you don’t get an attitude with Rafe and walk away intact.
I don’t give a shit.
I’m still furious with him for walking into Caris’s house and taking her mother’s picture. That upsets me a thousand times more than the way my ribs ache with each breath.
Maybe he’s tired of hitting things for today because he says nothing, just flips the remote onto the couch cushion and goes scavenging in the kitchen. He finds a box of pasta and then gets mad when he realizes he can’t stick it in the microwave so I get up off the couch and start boiling a pot of water so he’ll shut up.
I don’t like it when he sits on a chair right behind me while I’m stirring the pasta. It’s elbow macaroni, like the kind that comes in macaroni and cheese boxes except there’s no cheese.
Rafe’s quiet for a long time so I keep stirring the pot. I remove the cracked plastic colander from a cabinet and set it in the sink to drain the macaroni.
“I just wanted to see what it was like in there,” he finally says. He doesn’t sound like himself. He sounds serious. Maybe a little sad.
“Huh? Where?”
“The Chapel house.”
My heart freezes. My fists clench.
He doesn’t notice. He’s playing with a lighter, setting paper napkins on fire and smacking out the flames with the palm of his hand. “There’s all this old crap all over the place. You know, pictures of dead people on the walls. Hey, you never said that little girlfriend of yours is one of them. That’s some sick shit. Her mother’s such a lying bitch. I’m sure she is too so watch your ass.”
I look down into the pot of boiling water. “Leave her alone, Rafe. Please.”
He snorts with laughter. “You think I’m gonna touch that little bag of bones? Not interested. You can keep it for yourself.”
I’m shaking on the inside as I pour the boiling hot contents of the pot into the colander. For a second I thought about doing something terrible. If Rafe had said the wrong thing then I might have.
And then I’d be just like the rest of them.
Maybe that can’t be helped no matter what.
“Hey, get two bowls,” Rafe says. “There’s enough mac there for us to split it.”
I don’t feel like sitting down at the table and eating a bowl of macaroni with him but it’s about as generous an offer as Rafe ever extends and besides, I’m hungry.
I get two bowls and two spoons and Rafe grabs the salt shaker. He becomes almost cheerful as we sit there eating bowls of salted pasta, almost as if we’re two regular brothers having regular dinner.
He talks about footba
ll, about how he’s tired of being on the offensive line and he wants to be the quarterback. He says the minute he graduates from high school he’s getting the hell out of Arcana. He’s always thought that Las Vegas would be a cool place to live.
Even after my bowl is empty I keep sitting at the table because it’s not often that Rafe behaves like a person you wouldn’t mind having a conversation with. I’m still pissed at him for the whole thing with the picture of Caris’s mother but it seems like just one of those dumb stunts that he pulls because he thinks it makes him a badass. He doesn’t sound like he’s interested in bothering Caris and that’s all I care about.
We’re still sitting there at the table when my mother walks in. I haven’t seen her in a couple of days. She must have just come from work because she’s still wearing her salon smock. Her dry lips are painted red and they look like angry gashes in her tired face. She sees Rafe first and scowls. Then she notices me and her eyes widen.
“Jonathan.” She drops her purse on the floor and flies over to examine me. “Oh my god, what the hell happened?” She checks out my eye, looks at my cut up hand, notices when her hand lands on my back that I yelp because my ribs are still sore.
It’s not like this is the first time I have bruises but I’m in worse shape than usual and I see from the grim set of her mouth that she’s going to make a big deal out of it.
“You did this to him, didn’t you?” she accuses Rafe.
For once Rafe appears uncertain. He looks at her and then at me.
“Get out of here,” she whispers.
Rafe doesn’t move an inch.
“Get out!” she screams. She picks up my dinner bowl and hurls it against the wall. “GET OUT! Get out for good!”
Rafe now reacts. He rolls his eyes and then laughs but somehow I don’t think he finds this the least bit funny. I certainly don’t find it funny. For all the times I sort of wished my mother would kick him out I never thought she’d actually do it.
“Be gone by the time I’m out of the shower,” she says, already walking out of the kitchen. “Or I’ll have you arrested for what you did to your brother.”
The bathroom door opens and shuts. I guess mothering time is over. Rafe and I just stare at each other for a minute.