by Thomas Brown
All the questions make me wish I could recede into my madness, yet madness makes no sense to me now. I see it flaring up in Thom and I don’t know what to do to rescue him from its grip. I hope his family will do that for me, as Michael rescued me. When I met Thom, I asked myself how I could’ve hurt this man for no reason. Now, I ask how could Daniel hurt his own cousin, and why and why and why and why?
46 Reverberations
Thom doesn’t know how it happens but the next time he is aware, he is sitting on the kitchen floor. His elbow is throbbing. A chair is lying beside him. Aunty Val is peering over the table at him but doesn’t move to help.
“Did you hear me, Thom?”
“I’m not sure”, Thom mumbles, cradling his elbow with his other hand. He wants a sling so everyone can see there is something wrong with him. How will people be able to tell that he has been split in half when there are no signs on the outside?
“You and Daniel have the same father”, she repeats. Her voice keeps slicing through him like a glacier.
“But that would mean he and I were…” Thom can’t even say that word, though it is only two syllables.
“Yes, brothers”, she finishes.
“But that doesn’t make any sense”. Thom heaves himself to his feet, supporting himself with the table. He retakes his seat.
“It makes sense if you know the details”, she tells him and pushes her chair back, the scraping of the chair rupturing his insides further. She walks past him, her familiar smell touching him in the way she can’t now, and opens a cupboard behind him. She places a set of papers on the table and steps back.
“What is this?” Thom demands, focussing on her lips, hoping they will lie.
“Read it, Thom”.
Thom reluctantly obeys but it takes him several seconds to focus on the words at the top. Finally, Thom sees them: Contract of Surrogacy. As soon as his eyes absorb these words, his eyes instantly blur again. “What the fuck…” Thom mumbles, the word ‘surrogacy’ repeatedly crashing against his forehead.
“Your mother and father couldn’t have kids together”, Aunty Val says quietly, as she sits opposite him again. The table sits between them like a mediator. “After years of trying, they finally got tested and found out your mother was infertile”.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Thom snarls.
“The truth, Thom”.
“How could my mother be infertile? And what the fuck does this have to do with me and Daniel having the same dad?” Thom thinks he should faint but instead, he feels like he has seized up, ready to attack.
“They came to me one day and they asked me if I would consider being a surrogate for them”, she says, a brief smile passing over her lips. Yet, they quickly darken with a guilty frown. “After thinking about it for a while, I decided I would do it. I just wanted to help my sister, that’s all”.
“So you’re some saint are you?”
“If I were a saint, I would’ve told you years ago”. She bows her head.
“What exactly are you telling me?” Thom slams his hand against the table and winces as discreetly as he can when it begins to throb. Aunty Val grabs it, squeezing it hard to enforce the words that follow; “I carried you. You were twins”.
Thom rips his hand away from her and jumps from his seat, wrenching the table upwards and launching it across the kitchen. Aunty Val stays in her seat, as though she is expecting the table to return and she can once again lean her elbows on it. Thom doesn’t move again. Inside his mind, moments and words are gathering together like a puddle at the bottom of a gutter.
When he entered the room after the wake and Aunty Val turned white…
The way Sarah seemed so fascinated by him instantly and kissed him…
How Daniel left him clues to make him question everything and everyone…
The number 11 on the lock up door...
Why hasn’t Thom realised? Daniel has been trying to lead him here from the moment he died. In the face of leukaemia, Daniel discovered something so hurtful that he didn’t want to live anyway. And through these clues and his departure, he wanted to show Thom how similar they are, so similar because of a genetic bond neither of them knew about for most of their lives.
Thom shakes himself. “So who is the woman?”
“What woman?” Aunty Val says, sticking to the chair. Thom paces around her as though he might swing an axe and behead her.
“The woman who gave her egg for my dad… you know, to put in you”. Thom feels like a child again.
“Thom, I thought you understood”, she says in a high-pitched tone. Thom stops in front of her.
“Understood what?”
“Your mother asked me to do it, so it wouldn’t be some stranger. I’m the one”, she tells Thom, cowering, shaking. Thom sags into nothing. He once again finds himself being looked down on, staring up at her from miles away, her face shivering behind a curtain of tears.
“You are not… you’re not…” Thom splutters and crawls away backwards. “How can you say you are, when I already have a mother? You’re just sick and lonely and you want to keep me here because Daniel’s dead”. Thom pushes up against the wall. “Well, I’m not staying here with you, no matter what lies you tell me”. Thom doesn’t take his eyes from her as he heaves himself up near the kitchen sink.
She edges closer. Thom glances at the back door, trying to gauge how far away it is. He also stares at the hallway behind her, wishing it would chew her up. Yet nothing happens and he doesn’t escape. In the few seconds he has been thinking, she is only inches away and when he realises this, she has already grabbed him.
“I am your mother”, she declares. “I’ve tried to tell you so many times but it’s been so hard. Your parents kept promising they’d tell you and then they died and I didn’t know if you’d be able to cope with it. I didn’t want to take their memory away from you… I’m so sorry, Thom”.
“Say this is true…” Thom begins, nauseated by the mere notion, “If you gave birth to us, why did we get separated?” Thom feels smug; sure he has discovered the minute snag in her claims. Yet she remains in the same position, with the same expression and his hopes begin to plummet.
“If you read the contract, you’ll see. We changed it after you were both born. We only found out it was twins much later in the pregnancy and when I gave birth, I just couldn’t let you both go...” She is sobbing.
“Your parents weren’t happy and it took a lot of talking and thinking but we decided – well they agreed, to let me have one of you”, she pauses, a sour smile on her lips. “It’s scary and terrible and I don’t think either of us were truly happy with it but thank-fully, they understood how terrible it would be to have to give up two babies at once”.
“I can’t believe this. You said I was early, that’s why we were both born then...” Thom shakes his head violently. Then his attention turns, “How did you decide anyway? Did you flip a coin? Did you play highest card draw? How exactly did you choose a baby to give away?”
Her shoulders are slumped, her eyes red and soggy, her mouth a drooping flower that cannot be revived. “You don’t understand, Thom”, she cries, sobbing and moaning, “If you knew what it’s like to give up a child, let alone two…” Thom swivels his arms and grabs hold of her by the arms, shaking her.
“And you think being lied to your whole fucking life isn’t hard?” he screams, his spit jumping out and clinging to her skin. “How could you do it, Aunty…?” Thom demands and instantly feels like a fool. “Or whatever the hell you are”, he adds, starting to sink once again but she holds him up.
“I didn’t want to give either of you up but we’d agreed, Thom. I couldn’t back out because even if I’d tried to take them to court, the lawyers said I would’ve lost”.
“Daniel and I deserved to know”.
“I couldn’t tell him without you being told too and your parents kept saying ‘when the time is right’ but then they weren’t around anymore”.
“You’re blaming them? I guess that’s convenient for you now they’re dead”. Thom feels like his blood is boiling in his veins. He looks at the back of his hands to check bubbles aren’t rising underneath his skin. However, his skin retains the normality he can no longer see in this kitchen, in his ‘Aunty’, his whole stupid lie of a life.
“I think your mother felt very hurt she couldn’t even provide an egg. I think she couldn’t bear to tell you she wasn’t your biological mother”.
“You won’t take her away from me”, Thom tells her firmly.
“I never wanted to, especially after they died. I didn’t want to take those memories away from you, you’d lost everything else”. She tries to pull him into a hug but he pushes her back.
“I hadn’t lost everything then, but I have now”. Thom drops her arms. He moves away from her towards the door but before he can reach it, he bends over and vomits. His body convulses violently as it forces its way out of his throat. Thom can’t fight it, he lets it overpower him and watches it elongating on the floor below him.
When his stomach is empty, he pushes himself up and swallows several times, the sour taste of vomit lingering. He remembers having the same reaction after finding the note. He remembers the guilty sick stain on his sleeve that he stared at throughout the funeral.
“You haven’t lost me, Thom”, Aunty Val says, placing her hand on his back without looking at his indiscretion on the kitchen floor.
“What am I supposed to do, Aunty? Start calling you mum?”
“No, Thom. Not at all. But we can sort this out”.
“Daniel didn’t think so”.
“I hoped I wouldn’t lose both of you because of this”. She shakes her head sadly. Thom can’t help looking at her now. When he considers her features properly, he can see the truth. He can see the shape of her mouth that he and Daniel shared, and he remembers the shade of her natural hair that matches his unkempt mop. He has never seen her properly before. He has spent his life with foggy eyesight, his beloved Aunt elevated so high that he could never see the frightening similarities.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Thom’s face crumples. He looks down; ashamed to show her how she has torn him apart. “Why has everyone been lying to me?”
“Who else lied, darling?” She cuddles him. He is tempted to resist her again but he is too weak. He lets her hold him up, like he did for her on the day of the funeral. Somehow telling the truth has made her stronger, for the both of them.
“Sarah. You. The only people that matter”, Thom muffles into her shoulder.
“Sarah matters to you? What about Emma?”
Thom pushes back. “Is it really your place to be grilling me?”
“No, of course not. I just didn’t know”. She touches his unshaven cheek and scratches his beard playfully. “I miss talking to you Thom”.
“I’ve missed you too”, Thom admits, “but we can’t just go back”.
“I love you, Thom. Please work at this with me”. She leans her forehead against his. He stares into her eyes, his heart clunking. He wants to ask her thousands of questions, he recounts times when she started telling him something but then changed her mind. Why hadn’t she ever finished the sentence?
In the next moment he thinks about the last time he was here. He thinks about how he told her that Daniel knew he was going to die and how she collapsed. Had she been afraid he’d found out about the leukaemia? Or had she been afraid he had found out they were brothers?
“How did you choose, Aunty? How did you pick?” Thom presses his head into hers until he thinks he hears the bones crack. The words poke her in the eye. She blinks several times.
“There was no decision, I took one baby and your parents took the other”.
Thom shoves her away. “That’s it? A lottery to choose which child you take?”
“It would be more horrible if we’d had some criteria, don’t you think?”
“That’s why he hated me”, Thom says suddenly.
“What?”
“The night I arrived, I took over his bedroom. And you were always giving me all this special attention. He must’ve sensed it all along and when he found out… no wonder he left me all this shit to figure out”. Thom crushes his hair in his fists, his brain unfreezing.
“What stuff did he leave?” Val asks.
“Nothing, nothing…” Thom dismisses her. “He must’ve always known something but I guess he didn’t really believe it. He just couldn’t deal with it”.
“Stop it, Thom. We couldn’t have changed things. People take things how they want to”, she says, resigned.
“You’re actually blaming him now?” Thom advances on her.
“I’m not blaming him”.
“You’ve ruined us”. Thom starts to sob. He moans and attempts to bury himself in the wall. Yet he can’t push himself inside and hide. She can still see him; she can still claw at him and try to comfort him.
“I love you, Thom. I love you so much”, she cries. Her sobbing and her words seem fake to him. She is a lying bitch who has torn his heart out, who has watched them grow up in her lie, who has taken away his parents forever.
Before he can stop himself, he swings around. The first thing he knows about what he has done, she is leaning against the worktop holding her lip. The blood doesn’t appear until a few seconds later. Thom watches it swell out between her fingers.
Thom tries to speak but all he can do is howl.
“It’s okay, Thom. I know you didn’t mean it”. She lowers her hand, the blood spotting her hand and lip. Yet she doesn’t wipe it away. He stares at it until it appears to spread across her face, turning her entire face into a red mess. This is the blood that made him. This is the blood that runs through his DNA.
“I’m so confused. I can’t work out… I don’t know how… Please tell me…” The words get lost inside the avalanche steadily blocking exit points through his synapses, his mouth.
“It can be different this time”, she says hopefully.
Thom hears her words but can only think of how everything isn’t different at all. Like Daniel, no one really understands him anymore. Like Daniel, he feels angry and betrayed. Like Daniel, he has found out his whole life has been a lie. He has hurt her too. He has kissed the same woman Daniel had.
Thom begins to back away into the darkness of the hallway. She reaches out, tries to speak but realises it is useless. Her lip quivers hopefully, like a person still clinging onto the faith that after everything, it can’t possibly be over. Yet Thom feels like a full stop has been stamped on his heart.
He is swallowed by the darkness, becomes an outline and flashes briefly in the light from the street lights outside, before disappearing completely.
47 The Bloodied Scarf
The air covers me like a hot flannel. My skin feels numb so I can’t feel the sweat dribbling down my face. I only feel it when it gathers above my eyebrows and I have to wipe it away with my sleeve.
I guess I knew I would end up here at some point. After all the confrontations with my past lately, it seems apt and only fitting that I face up to the location of my crime. Yet, it doesn’t stop me shivering in the muggy cavern.
After sitting outside the Mansen house yesterday, I realised that I had to come back. This station, the trains, the smells, those over-sized posters and the silence of death – they have all been haunting me since that day. I can’t run forever.
The scarf trails behind me, darkened with my brother’s blood. I slowly approach the place where I stood on that day. It seems wrong when I see the clock says 13:45. I am early. Yet I won’t be meeting anyone here. No one knows where I am and the people around me are all strangers, with no inkling that I’m a murderer returning to the scene.
I wonder if any of the others on this platform were here that day. If as they watched helplessly; they screamed in horror, had been unable to tear their gaze away from the broken body crushed and flung by the train, the spray of blood marking them forever. Am I the only on
e who walked out of the station on that day unable to remove the image of that falling man caught by the train in mid-air?
I am standing on the spot. Nothing about it distinguishes it from the rest of the platform. There are no marks, no blood, and no red tape prohibiting others from stamping all over it. It sickens me how life continues so easily. How many people have stood here since that day? How many trains have passed through the tunnel? How many people have seen the clock at 15:32?
I look down at the tracks and see nothing but dirty metal and a few pieces of rubbish. When I try to imagine Daniel’s face, I can’t even remember how he looked. All I see now is Thom. I wish then that Thom could be here, holding my hand tightly to stop me jumping into the escalating wind. Yet how could I explain to him why I need him here in this spot?
The wind begins to thrash against me until I nearly topple, the scarf fluttering madly beside me. Others begin moving forward and I look back at them, wondering if one of them will push me in front of the train. It would be fitting after all. The tunnel is lightening, the spotlight approaching, honing in on me – the culprit.
I am sure I am a beacon, a firework spinning in circles. I am certain I am screaming out loud but it is only inside my mind. This is the scream I didn’t give Daniel on that day. I killed him without surprise, without emotion, without my eyes rolling in water. I believed that I knew exactly what I’d been doing but I’d been miles from reality, standing in a bubble where the only thing that could reach me was Daniel.
The air seems clogged with dirt, thick with the sweat pouring from me. I try to breathe but the opening seems blocked. The train’s nose is poking out of the tunnel and within moments, rushes past me, without hesitation. I realise how quick the transition is, how I must have taken the precise split second to kill him. He must’ve been proud of his work. He must’ve loved saying those words to me. Right on time…