by Jane Anthony
“It’s okay, Gabby. This is Daniel,” I say on the edge of laughter.
“Hi,” she replies timidly.
Daniel runs his thumb over the lesion on his opposite arm, his shoulders seemingly curving with the movement. He was never a big guy, the total opposite of me. Tall and thin to my average and stocky. But the past few years have taken their toll. They’ve stolen all the things that gave Daniel life and shoved him in this rotting carcass that continues to sleep down the hall.
“I think I scared the girl to death,” he says, his head lolling in my direction.
“It’s okay. Just surprised me, is all.”
“I know I’m positively frightful,” he jabs, waving his hands in the air as if he’s doing magic. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
“No.” She takes a single step, halting Daniel’s quick escape back to the confines of his bedroom. “You’re fine. Anthony and I were going to watch a movie. You can join us if you want.”
He lifts a brow, his gaunt features taking on a sarcastic grin. “You’re not afraid?”
“Of what?”
“Catching death,” he warns.
Gabby’s loose curls bounce with the delicate shake of her head. “Should I be?”
“Most people are.”
“Well, I’m not most people.”
Daniel steps toward her, holding out his spindly hand. My breath catches in my throat. Most girls would go running for the hills. No one touches Daniel. No one. The girl at the grocery won’t even accept money from him. I brace myself for the moment she coils away, but, to my utter shock, Gabby slips her palm against his without a second thought.
“It’s nice to meet you, Daniel.”
The corner of his lip twitches before curling at the end. “Yeah. You too.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta pee,” she announces before ducking into the bathroom and closing the door.
Daniel turns his head and hacks a dry cough into the crook of his arm. “She’s cute,” he says, recovering.
As much as I try, I can’t stave off the goofy grin that follows. “She is.”
“Jeez, Anthony. You’re as bad as Dad.” Twisting on the ball of his foot, he rolls his eyes, coughing again.
The past few nights, I’ve heard it emanating through his bedroom door. I’ve seen the bloody Kleenex buried in the trash. I don’t want to admit it, but this is more than a cough. It’s the beginning of the end.
I reach out and touch his forehead. “Did you have that looked at yet?”
“What for? So they can tell me I’m dying?”
His statement punches me in the chest, but I shake it off. “You’re so fucking dramatic.”
“Whatever,” he announces, throwing up his hands. “I’ll meet you downstairs.” With that, he pads away, leaving me alone with my worry.
He’s getting worse.
Every night, I go to bed wondering if it’s the last day I’ll ever see my brother alive. Each morning, I wake with the fear of finding his lifeless body lying in his bed. I’ve been lucky so far, but that feeling of dread sits on my chest, crushing every moment we spend together with its looming presence.
With a heavy sigh, I turn and head back toward my bedroom to wait for Gabby. I hover before the mirror and rake my fingers through the hair falling over my forehead. “You’re still beautiful, don’t worry,” Gabby quips, sauntering in.
But the energy shifted. The thick layer of lust that swam between us dissipated like smoke twisting off her clove cigarette. She falls against the dresser, pressing her ass to the rim as she slides in next to me.
The look in her eyes is a shot to the throat. The mix of pity and sadness darkening her coffee stare as she cocks her head and eyes me with remorse. “He’s got the virus, huh?”
“Yep.”
The soft feel of her fingers casually threading with mine makes my chest ache. I’ve accepted this is Daniel’s fate. I don’t need her to feel bad.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
My emotions slam closed, my gaze hardening. “Would you have wanted anything to do with me if I did? Would you be standing here right now if you knew?”
She blanches.
“Yeah, I thought so,” I snap, turning away.
“I’m still here, Anthony. I haven’t run off yet.” A moment of silence sits between us. Maybe I should have told her before she came. I owed her the right to make that decision on her own instead of dragging her into this mess, but I couldn’t stand the idea of losing her because of Daniel’s reckless past. “How much time does he have left?”
I shrug, falling to the back end of my bed. “Hard to say. He got the official diagnosis last year. But by then, we’d already started seeing symptoms.”
Gabby pushes off the dresser. The mattress dips under her weight as she settles beside me and takes my hand in hers, resting her cheek against my shoulder. She doesn’t respond, and she doesn’t have to. Nothing she can say will ease the burden placed on upon me. She simply sits and absorbs my pain. With her by my side, it doesn’t feel quite as heavy.
“You wanna head downstairs?”
Her face rubs my arm with her nod. For a split second, all I want to do is push her back to my bed and take it out on her. Let her cries of pleasure drown out the agonizing panic flooding in my brain.
She’s not wearing anything sexy. A simple Bon Jovi tee, but the way the logo stretches across her luscious tits makes it hard to control the semi I’ve been toting around all night. Dark curls frame her face, flowing over each shoulder and down her back, reaching the waistline of her denim skirt. I can’t stop thinking about the way all that hair would feel skimming across my bare chest as she hovers over me.
My heart flips at the thought. I feel it in my throat as I stand and pull her close. I met her at The Junkyard, but she’s not just another random chick I met in a bar. She’s not one of the nameless fucks who wants to spend time with the band.
Gabriella is different. She’s special.
“Took you two long enough,” Daniel quips as we meander into the living room. He stands in the center with a VHS tape in either hand. “The Outsiders or Red Dawn?”
I shoot Daniel a look, but he merely shrugs. “I need some Swayze in my life, okay?”
“The Outsiders,” Gabby replies, cuddling into the soft arm of the couch. “Checks the boxes.”
Daniel lifts a questioning brow.
Gabby explains. “Patrick Swayze for you, vintage cars for Ant, a harem of hot boys in leather for me.”
My jaw drops; Daniel chuckles. “I see why you like my brother. Despite that awful haircut.” He shoves the cassette into the mouth of the VCR. It sucks it in slowly then closes as it swallows.
“Whatever,” I grumble, taking a seat. “You’re just pissed because I’m better looking than you.”
A pfft sound leaves his lips. “Please. You’re too butch to be pretty.”
“I think you’re both handsome,” Gabby interjects.
Daniel grins. “Aww, ain’t you sweet.”
He pops on the movie and chucks the remote on the pillow next to me. It wouldn’t have mattered which flick Gabby chose, because I’m not really watching it anyway. I can’t seem to keep my eyes off her. The movie is background noise.
Being this close and smelling her sweet, powdery perfume makes it hard to concentrate on anything else. She melts into me, her bare legs curled around mine. I’m really trying to respect her boundaries, but it's so hard when she’s sitting there, the heat from her skin soaking the thick panel of denim covering my thighs.
All I want to do is kiss her again.
Licking my dry lips, I stare into her soulful eyes, trying to think up the best way to tell her how I feel. I’m past the point of casual fling. My chest tightens along with my jeans whenever I think about her. Seeing her with Daniel only made it stronger. She squirrelled under my skin and burrowed into my heart. I’m not sure if this is love, but it’s the closest thing I’ve ever come to it.
I want
her. Physically, yeah, but it’s more than that.
Mentally, spiritually . . .
I want it all. Everything she has to give.
Gabby stretches as the credits roll, her impish little moan tickling my spine. “I need a cigarette,” she says with a yawn, jumping up and jaunting to the kitchen. She slides the filter between her lips, then pulls her hair to one side and holds it over her shoulder as she bends down over the stove. The burner ticks before bursting into a shallow blue flame.
“You’re gonna burn your face off,” I warn.
Once lit, she snatches it from her mouth with two fingers. “Naw, I got it. I’ll take this outside.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just turn on the vent.”
“Right. While your brother hacks up a lung right here on the carpet. I’ll be right back.”
Daniel wobbles to his feet. “It’s okay. I’m heading up to bed.”
“You all right?” I stand.
Daniel pauses. “I’m fine. I’m just tired.” Soft wheezing rattles his chest as he rounds the couch. “It was nice to meet you, Gabby.”
“You, too. Sleep well.”
But he wavers at the foot of the stairs, his body rocking as he sucks in a stuttering breath. A death rattle that gusts through the room like static. We both turn at the godawful sound, neither of us expecting what happens next.
Daniel’s eyes pop as he clutches his chest. I jump to my feet, but it’s too late. He hits the ground like a rag doll. No resistance, no arms poised for protection. One minute he’s standing, the next he’s a heap of bones at the foot of the stairs.
Chapter Nine
ANTHONY
Gabby yawns and lays her head on my shoulder, but my gaze stays trained on the blue-and-white checkerboard floor. A crack splits the tile next to my boot and splinters out as it reaches the sole. One single blemish in an otherwise perfect floor. I wonder where it came from. How it got there.
Sliding my feet together, I try to cover the crevice, to pretend it isn’t there, but the end peeks out from the curved edge of my heel.
I hate hospitals.
Before you roll your eyes, I realize what a silly admission that is. That’s like saying I hate funerals or I love to laugh. Duh — everyone does. But that doesn't make sitting here any easier. It doesn't make the stink of solvent burn any less or the minutes click by any faster.
And it doesn’t stop the memories from crashing down. It all comes back as if it were yesterday. The smell, the sights, the worry . . . a crazy culmination of feelings racing through my adolescent brain as my dad took his last breath right in front of me. The somber tone of my mom’s voice telling me to say goodbye, but I wasn’t ready. I thought if I didn’t say it, he wouldn’t die. As if there was something magical in the single word that would keep him here, selfish as it was. So, I stood there stupidly. My jaw locked shut, listening to the wheezing pump of machines until everything went quiet and it was too late.
“I shouldn’t have smoked that cigarette,” Gabby warbles around her fingertips. Her nails bitten down to the quick, she’s way past curfew. I should have dropped her home hours ago, but I couldn’t leave Daniel.
I never said goodbye to my dad, and he died anyway.
I won’t make that mistake with my brother.
“You shouldn’t smoke anyway because it’s bad for you, but I promise that single puff didn’t cause this.”
“How do you know?” she asks, lifting her head.
“This would have happened with or without you.” I splay my fingers wide then wrap them around hers. I feel like a rubber band stretched too thin. A guitar string pulled too taut to pluck. I could snap at any second. The only thing keeping me from flying apart is her. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Time ticks on. The wait is endless. Stuck in a windowless room that feels like a cave, I’ve started counting the chairs, the ceiling tiles, even the snacks in the vending machine. Anything to keep my mind sharp. To stay alert, awake, and calm when all I want to do is tear this place to pieces.
The doctor’s entrance sucks the oxygen from the room. A sharp breath hits my lungs, but another doesn’t follow until he sits in the empty seat next to me.
“I apologize for the wait. We have been attempting to contact your brother’s primary care physician.”
A dull pain spreads through my jaw and circles across my brow bones. “How is my brother? Is he okay?”
“I’m afraid your brother is suffering from Pneumocystis pneumonia. It’s a fungus that causes inflammation and fluid buildup in the lungs. It’s extremely common in patients with HIV.”
The tension in my shoulders makes my muscles lock. I feel it compressing my body into a Rubik’s cube as I try to make sense of what the man is saying.
“Having a fluid buildup in your lungs is similar to drowning. If it continues to go untreated, your brother’s symptoms will continue to progress, and it will become increasingly difficult to breathe.”
I pull my brows together. I feel like Charlie Brown talking to his teacher. He keeps talking, but all I hear in my head is womp-womp-womp-womp. What does he mean, continues to go untreated? We literally just found out. Treat him now, and let’s get the fuck out of here.
“I don’t understand.”
The doctor drops his gaze to the chart in his lap. “According to Dr. Swain, treatment for this was offered when his CD4 cell count fell below 300. Daniel declined.”
An icy chill sloughs down my body from head to toe. “You’re saying that he knew about this?”
The doctor’s tone softens. “I’m afraid so, yes.”
“What’s his cell count now?” I brace myself for the impact of his statement.
“Forty. We have recommended a mixture of two different antibiotics to be administered intravenously. We would like to keep him overnight to monitor his vitals. However, he is still refusing treatment. At this juncture, there is not much we can do.”
My chest burns as I attempt to pull in enough air to keep from losing my shit. “Can I see him?”
“Yes,” the doctor agrees with a curt nod.
“Wait here,” I mumble to Gabby.
Pins and needles splinter my shins. I rise to my feet, the rasp of Daniel’s cough echoing in my mind as I follow the doctor out. How could I have been so blind? Daniel’s condition has worsened at an alarming rate. I assumed it was a natural progression of the virus. Now it all makes sense.
He’s letting himself die.
His lithe body lies under a sheet, tubes and monitors piercing his graying flesh. He’s never been a burly man. The Morello genes couldn't touch him. He’s better than that. Sinewy and graceful, with slender hands and elegant fingers, he side-stepped my rough and tumble with an agile grace that’s all his own. He’s my brother, my father, and my best friend.
“Daniel,” I audibly mumble.
His lashes flutter, his muddy eyes coming into view. He reaches up and pulls the oxygen mask from his mouth. “I didn’t want to end up here.”
“Then stop refusing treatment.”
His head rolls to the side as he turns away as best he can. “I’m gonna die anyway. Why prolong it?”
Heat plumes up my face and stings my eyes. I blink it back, but it keeps coming until my vision blurs. “Is that what this is? You feeling sorry for yourself?”
A humorless laugh hisses through his teeth. “I’m way past that. This is acceptance.” He drifts back toward me. “I’m ready for this to be over.”
I swallow past the burning lump blocking my throat. “But you could have so much life left.”
“I don’t. But you do. And I don’t need you worrying about me. I’m just gonna get worse, and it’s not fair to make you suffer with me.” He pushes up the mask, then pulls in a rattling breath before continuing. “You’re not a kid anymore. You don’t need me to take care of you.”
His words are a knife twisting in my back. “I know moving back home to raise me wasn’t part of your grand plan. I never asked you to do that—”
He wriggles his fingers out and covers my hand. “That’s not what I meant.” He pauses to take another labored breath. “You were the greatest thing that ever happened to me. If given the choice, I’d do it again, but you’re a man now. My work is done.”
“What if I’m not ready to say goodbye?” My voice comes out in husky rasps. There’s so much more I need to say, but the pain in my chest is far too great.
“You’re gonna do great things. You’ve grown into a wonderful person, and I know part of that is because of me. Promise me you’ll buy that garage. I want you to grab onto all the things in life that make you happy. Don’t wait, and don’t let anything stand in your way.”
I nod, forcing down the deluge of emotions to find the strength that resides within. Out of nowhere, that scene from The Outsiders pops into my head. The one where Johnny lies in the hospital, his body burned and bloody while Dallas and Ponyboy are powerless to help.
Nothing gold can stay.
My brother and I saw it in the theater at least ten times before it was released on video. He joked about having a crush on Patrick Swayze, but now I wonder if that wasn’t the whole truth. I think on some level, he identified with him. His character, Darry Curtis, the brother turned father of two teenage boys after the death of their parents.
Daniel deserves more than this. I can’t give him back the life he lost, but I can give him the death he requests. It’s the least I can do in return for everything he’s given me.
“Gabby still here?”
“Yeah.” I nod, sniffling. “She’s in the waiting room.”
“Never turn your back on a beautiful woman.” His wheezing snicker becomes an abrasive cough. He replaces the mask until the attack subsides before adding, “Go get her.”
With a heavy heart, I traipse to the door and wander out. Gabby’s legs fold under her body, her head resting in the crook of her arm as she lies curled up in the chair I left her in. “Gabriella,” I say, gently rousing her from her nap.