The last time I had seen him, he had been staggering off into the night with a bullet in his side, the only head start I could give him, considering that Deborah was there and somewhat anxious to speak with him in an official capacity. Apparently he’d found medical attention, because he looked quite healthy now; a little older, of course, but he still looked a lot like me. He was very close to my height and build, and even his features looked like a crude and battered imitation of my own, and the bright empty mockery I remembered was in his eyes as he looked up at me from his little red car.
“Did you get my flowers?” he asked, and I nodded, moving forward.
“Brian,” I said, leaning onto the car. “You look good.”
“As do you, dear brother,” he said, still smiling. He reached out and patted my stomach. “I believe you’ve put on a little weight — your wife must be a good cook.”
“She is,” I said. “She takes very good care of me. Body and, um, soul.”
We chuckled together at my use of that fairy-tale word, and I thought again how good it was to know somebody who really understood me. I’d had a brief and tantalizing glimpse of this all-accepting bond on that one night we were together, and now I realized just how much I had given up — and perhaps he did, too, because here he was.
But of course, nothing is ever that simple, especially not with us residents of the Dark Tower, and I felt a small flutter of suspicion. “What are you doing here, Brian?”
He shook his head with pretended self-pity. “Already feeling suspicious? Of your own flesh and blood?”
“Well,” I said, “I mean, really. Um, considering…?”
“True enough,” he said. “Why don’t you invite me in and we’ll talk?”
The suggestion was like sudden ice water flung on my neck. Invite him in? Into my house, where my other carefully separate life lay nestled in its bed of clean white cotton? Let a dribble of blood spatter onto the pristine damask of my disguise? It was a terrible idea and it sent a surge of horrid discomfort right through me. Besides, I had never even mentioned to anyone that I had a brother, and in this case the «anyone» was Rita, and she would certainly wonder at the omission. How could I invite him in — into the world of Rita’s pancakes, Disney DVDs, and clean sheets? Invite him inside, by all that was unholy, to the Inner Sanctum of Lily Anne? It was not right. It was sacrilegious, a blasphemous violation of…
Of what? Wasn’t he my very own brother? Shouldn’t that cover over everything else in a blanket of sanctimony? Surely I could trust him — but with everything? With my secret identity, my Fortress of Solitude — and even Lily Anne, my Kryptonite?
“Don’t drool, brother,” Brian said, interrupting my flight of panicked musing. “It’s so very unbecoming.”
Without thinking, I dabbed at the corner of my mouth with my sleeve, still floundering desperately for some kind of coherent response. But before I could even arrive at a single syllable, a car horn bleated nearby, and I turned to see Astor’s peevish face glaring through the windshield of my car. Cody’s head was right next to hers, silent and watchful. I could see Astor squirming and mouthing the words, Come on, Dexter! She beeped again.
“Your stepchildren,” Brian said. “Charming little sprats, I’m sure. May I meet them?”
“Um,” I said, with really impressive authority.
“Come on, Dexter,” Brian said. “I won’t eat them.” He gave a strange little laugh that did nothing to reassure me, but at the same time I realized that he was, after all, my brother — and Cody and Astor were far from helpless, as they had shown several times. Surely there could be no harm in allowing them to meet their, ah, stepuncle?
“Okay,” I said, and I waved back at Astor, beckoning her to come and join us. With very commendable speed they both scrambled out of the car and came over to us, allowing Brian just barely enough time to clamber out of his car and stand beside me.
“Well, well,” he said. “What handsome children!”
“He’s handsome,” Astor said. “I’m just cute until I grow my boobs, and then I’m going to be hot.”
“I’m sure you are,” Brian said, and he turned his attention to Cody. “And you, little man,” he said. “Are you…” And he trickled to a halt as he met Cody’s gaze.
Cody stood looking up at Brian, his feet spread apart and his hands hanging stiffly at his sides. Their eyes locked together and I could hear the leathery unfolding of wings between them, the dark and sibilant greeting of twin interior specters. There was a look of belligerent wonder on Cody’s face, and he just stared for a long moment and Brian stared back, and finally Cody looked at me. “Like me,” he said. “Shadow Guy.”
“Amazing,” Brian said, and Cody turned back to meet his gaze. “Brother, what have you done?”
“Brother?” Astor said, clearly demanding equal time in the spotlight. “He’s your brother?!”
“Yes, my brother,” I said to Astor, and added to Brian, “I didn’t do anything. Their biological father did.”
“He used to beat us up really bad,” Astor said matter-of-factly.
“I see,” Brian said. “Thus supplying the Traumatic Event that spawns us all.”
“I guess so,” I said.
“And what have you done with this wonderful untapped potential?” Brian said, his eyes still on Cody.
I was now in very uncomfortable territory, considering that my plan had been to train them in Harry’s Way, a course I was now just as determined to avoid, and I found that I really didn’t want to talk openly about this, not at this point in time. “Let’s go inside,” I said. “Would you like a cup of coffee or something?”
Brian turned slow and empty eyes away from Cody and onto me. “I’d be delighted, brother,” he said, and with another glance at the children, he turned and walked toward my front door.
“You never said you had a brother,” Astor said.
“Like us,” Cody added.
“You never asked,” I said, feeling strangely defensive about the whole thing.
“You should have said,” Astor said, and Cody looked at me with an equal, unspoken accusation, as if I had violated some basic trust.
But Brian was already standing at the front door, so I turned away and followed. They came along behind, clearly fuming, and it occurred to me that this would not be the last time I heard similar words. What would I say to Rita when she asked the same thing, as she certainly would? I mean, of course I had never told them I had a brother. Considering that Brian was just like me but without any of Harry’s restraints on him, a kind of Dexter Unbound, what could I possibly say? The only really appropriate introduction would be, “This is my brother — run for your life!”
And in any case, I had not anticipated ever seeing him again after that one brief and dizzying encounter. I had not even known if he would survive. He clearly had — but why had he come back? I would have thought it made more sense to stay far away; Deborah would certainly remember him. Theirs had not been the sort of encounter one forgets, and she was, after all, exactly the kind of person who took great professional satisfaction from arresting people like him.
I knew very well, too, that he had not come back because of any kind of sentimental feelings for me, either. He did not have sentimental feelings. So why was he here, and what did I do about it?
Brian reached the front door and turned to look at me, raising one eyebrow. Apparently, the first thing I had to do about it was to open the door and let him in. I did; he gave me a small bow and entered, and Cody and Astor trooped in after him.
“What a lovely home,” Brian said, looking around the living room. “So very homey.”
There were heaps of DVDs lying across the tattered couch, and a pile of socks on the floor, and two empty pizza boxes on the coffee table. Rita had been in the hospital for nearly three days, and naturally enough she had not had the energy to clean up since she returned this morning. And although I do prefer a neat environment, I had been far too distracted myself to do any
thing about it, and the place really was not at its best. In fact, it was a frightful mess.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Brian. “We’ve been, um —”
“Yes, I know, the blessed event,” he said. “Into each life some domesticity must fall.”
“What does that mean?” Astor demanded.
“Dexter?” Rita called from the bedroom. “Is that — Is somebody with you?”
“It’s me,” I said.
“His brother is here,” Astor said belligerently.
There was a pause, replaced by the sound of panicked rustling of some kind, and then Rita came out, still brushing at her hair with one hand. “Brother?” she said. “But that’s — Oh.” And she stumbled to a halt, staring at Brian.
“Dear lady,” Brian said with knife-edged mocking joy, “how lovely you are. Dexter always did have an eye for beauty.”
Rita fluttered her hands at her head. “Oh, my God, I’m such a mess,” she said. “And the house is — But, Dexter, you never even said you had a brother, and this is —”
“It certainly is,” Brian said. “And I apologize for the inconvenience.”
“But your brother,” Rita repeated. “And you never said.”
I felt my jaw muscles moving, but no matter how carefully I listened, I did not hear myself saying anything. Brian watched me with real enjoyment for a moment before he finally spoke up.
“I’m afraid it’s all my fault,” he said at last. “Dexter thought I was long dead.”
“That’s right,” I said, feeling like one of the Three Stooges picking up a bobbled line cue.
“Still,” Rita said, still fussing absently with her hair. “I mean, you never — You said you were — I mean, how could you not…?”
“It’s very painful,” I said tentatively. “I don’t like to talk about it.”
“Still,” Rita repeated, and even though there was no guidebook for the territory we had entered, I knew I had not heard the last of this. So, hoping to maneuver us back onto firmer terrain, I blurted out the only words I could find.
“Could we have a cup of coffee?” I said.
“Oh,” Rita said, her peevishness changing at once to a look of startled guilt. “I’m sorry — would you like — I mean, yes, here, sit down.” And she moved to the couch and removed the assorted litter that blocked it with a rapid series of precision moves that did us all proud, domestically speaking. “There,” she said, piling the armful of clutter beside the couch and waving at Brian. “Please — sit down, and — Oh! I’m Rita.”
Brian stepped forward with brittle gallantry and took her hand. “My name is Brian,” he said. “But please sit down, dear lady; you should not be on your feet so soon.”
“Oh,” Rita said, and she was actually blushing. “But the coffee, I ought to —”
“Surely Dexter is not so hopeless that he can’t make coffee?” Brian said, arching one eyebrow at her, and she giggled.
“I suppose we’ll never know unless we let him try,” she said, and she actually simpered at him as she sank onto the couch. “Dexter, would you please — It’s three scoops for six cups, and you put the water into the —”
“I think I can manage,” I said, and if I sounded a little surly, who had a better right? And as Brian sat beside my wife, on my couch, I stalked into the kitchen to make coffee. And as I clattered through the motions of filling the pot from the sink and pouring the water into the machine, I heard from deep inside a quiet settling of bat wings as the Passenger stood down. But from the icy coils of Dexter’s allegedly powerful brain I heard only stammers of confusion and uncertainty. The ground seemed to be turning under my feet; I felt exposed and threatened and assailed by all the wicked armies of the night.
Why had my brother returned? And why did that make me feel so terribly insecure?
TEN
A few minutes later I had poured the coffee into mugs and set them on a tray with the sugar bowl and two spoons. I carried it carefully to the doorway into the living room, and stopped dead. The picture I saw was one of domestic bliss, charming in every aspect — except for the fact that it did not include me. My brother had settled onto the couch with Rita as if he had always lived there. Cody and Astor stood a few feet away looking at him with fascination, and I froze in the kitchen door and stared at the tableau with a growing sense of discomfort. Seeing Brian here, on my couch, Rita leaning toward him as she spoke, and Cody and Astor watching — it was just too weirdly surreal. The images did not quite mesh, but they were very unsettling, as if you had entered a cathedral for high mass and found people copulating on the altar.
Brian, of course, seemed completely undisturbed. I suppose it is one of the great advantages of being incapable of feeling things; he looked as comfortable on my couch as if he had grown there. And just to emphasize the fact that he apparently belonged there more than I did, he saw me lurking with the coffee and waved a hand at the chair next to the couch.
“Sit down, brother,” he said. “Make yourself at home.” Rita jerked upright, and Cody and Astor swung their heads to me and watched as I approached with the coffee.
“Oh!” Rita said, and to me she sounded a little guilty. “You forgot the cream, Dexter.” And before anyone could speak she was gone into the kitchen.
“You keep calling him brother,” Astor said to Brian. “How come you don’t use his name?”
Brian blinked at her, and I felt a surge of kinship. It wasn’t just me — Astor had reduced him to mere eye movements, too. “I don’t know,” he said. “I suppose it’s because the relationship is such a surprise to both of us.”
Cody and Astor swung their heads to face me in perfect unison.
“Yes,” I said, and it was very true. “A complete surprise.”
“Why?” Astor said. “Lots of people have brothers.”
I had no idea how to explain, and I stalled by putting down the tray and sinking into the chair. And once again it was Brian and not me who jumped into the silence.
“Lots of people have families, too,” he said. “Like you two. But brother — Dexter and I did not. We were, ah, abandoned. Under very unpleasant circumstances.” He gave her the bright smile again, and I am quite sure I only imagined that there was some real glint behind it this time. “Especially me.”
“What does that mean?” Astor said.
“I was an orphan,” Brian said. “A foster child. I grew up in a whole bunch of different homes where they didn’t like me and didn’t really want me, but they were paid to keep me.”
“Dexter had a home,” Astor said.
Brian nodded. “Yes, he did. And he has another one now.”
I felt cold talons on my back and did not know why. Surely there was no threat in Brian’s words, but still —
“You two need to realize how very lucky you have been,” Brian said. “To have a home — and even somebody who understands you.” He looked at me and smiled again. “And now, two somebodies.” And he gave them a horrible fake wink.
“Does that mean you’re going to hang around with us?” Astor said.
Brian’s smile grew a fraction. “I just might,” he said. “What else is family for?”
Brian’s words jerked me into action, and I leaned toward him as if somebody had burned me on the back. “Are you sure?” I said, and I felt the words turn into cold and clumsy lumps in my mouth. Nonetheless, I stammered on. “I mean, you know, um, it’s wonderful to see you and all, but — there’s a certain amount of risk involved.”
“What risk?” Astor demanded.
“I can be very careful,” Brian said to me, “as we both know.”
“It’s just, you know, Deborah might come around here,” I said.
“She hasn’t come around for the last two weeks,” he said. And he raised a mocking eyebrow at me. “Has she?”
“How do you know that?” Astor said. “Why does it matter if Aunt Deborah comes around?”
It was very interesting to hear that “two weeks,” and know exactly how
long Brian had been watching us, and we both ignored Astor’s interruption because it quite clearly mattered a great deal. If Deborah were to see Brian here, we would both be in unspeakably hot water. But what Brian said was true: Deborah did not come around very often lately. I hadn’t really thought about why that might be, but perhaps in light of her recent meltdown on the subject of my having a family before she did, I could assume that she found it painful in some way.
Luckily for me, I was spared another lesson in family dynamics, as Rita came bustling in bearing a small milk pitcher, and even a plate of cookies. “There,” she said, putting down her load and arranging things in a more perfect display. After all, she was Rita the Mighty, absolute Ruler of the Domestic and All Things Kitchen. “We had some of that Jamaican blend left that you said was so good, Dexter. Did you use that?” I nodded mutely as she moved things around on the coffee table. “Because after all, you liked it so much, maybe your brother would like it, too.” And she loaded the word «brother» with so much extra weight that I was very sure I had not heard the last of it.
“It smells absolutely wonderful,” Brian said. “I can already feel myself perking up.”
Brian’s words were so patently fake that I was sure Rita would turn on him with a raised eyebrow and a curled lip. Instead, she actually blushed a little as she sank back onto the couch and pushed a cup toward him. “Do you take milk and sugar?” she said.
“Oh, no,” Brian said, smiling right at me. “I like it very dark.”
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