"Come on, Kev. Turn it off and get your coat and boots."
Kevin, dressed in a dark blue suit - without a tie, of course - and with his brown hair combed neatly over his ears, remained seated on the floor in front of the television, his gaze transfixed on the play unravelling before him. On the screen, Foghorn Leghorn, amidst a world coloured predominantly in shades of yellow, brown, and dull green, was explaining to the naive chicken-hawk of the delicacy of peasant-under-glass.
"Kevin !"
The warning in Brad's voice - that is to say, as far as there was ever a threatening tone in his usually soft voice - caused Kevin to look around at his older brother with apprehensive.
"Come on," Brad continued in a calmer tone, at the same time attempting to assuage Kevin's fearful anxiety with a smile. "I told Chris we'd be there at five."
" 'Kay, Brad !" Rising awkwardly to his feet, he turned back to the television and pushed in the power button; the cartoon faded instantly to black.
"I just gotta take this back to Staci," he half-raised the glass casserole dish in explanation. "We've gotta leave as soon as I get back, so you better be ready."
" 'Kay. I'll be ready. Just need my shoes."
"Your boots." Brad - likewise dressed in a dark blue suit, and likewise sans tie - corrected as he began to move towards the front door, Kevin trailing along at his feet. "And your raincoat. It's wet outside."
"Yeah, sure, Brad. You say-so."
"That's right - I say so." Half-turning as he walked, Brad swiped the dish playfully at his brother, a wide grin on both of their faces. "And you'd better not forget it, buddy-o."
"I won't, Brad. Never. Of course yer the boss."
Opening the front door, Brad paused to look back at Kevin. "Five minutes."
" 'Kay." Already Kevin had the hall closet open and was bending over to withdraw his rubber boots. "Five minutes."
Leaning his back against the wall for support, he began to pull the left boot on, at the same time almost chanting under his breathe in an off-key sing-song voice: "Five minutes. Five o'clock. Five minutes. Five o'clock."
Without a word, but with a fatherly smile on his face - Kevin was trying to place the left boot on his right foot - Brad stepped into the outside corridor, cutting off Kevin's refrain in mid-utterance as the door swung softly closed.
The hall into which Brad stepped was a marked contrast to the interior of his apartment. The dark-green plush carpet, with lighter tones blended into its swirling design, was obviously well-worn, with a very noticeable path down its centre - the result of years worth of feet - visible even in the dim yellowish light. The walls, at one time presumably white, had long since begun to crack and peel, revealing beneath the light blue of previous paint jobs. And, the final touch, beside the elevator doors - themselves a dented gun-metal gray - stood a plastic chest-high plant, complete with a conspicuous amount of dust on its artificial fronds.
Not giving the greenery, the carpets or the walls even a glance - after living in the building for more than three years, they had become so familiar as to be no longer there - Brad moved quickly toward the far end of the hall, deftly and unconsciously stepping over the two areas of the floor where the boards creaked noisily whenever so much as a feather touched the carpet. From behind the closed doors he passed, the sounds of tenement life echoed forlornly out into the corridor - a mother softly attempting to sooth a restless child, the latest femogynological [ed. note - femogyny - hatred of men] tripe of a certain talk-show hostess coming from a television turned too loud... But like everything else, these, too, were unnoticed.
Reaching Staci's apartment he paused for the briefest of moments, trying to identify the music which wafted through her closed door - No in or out / No loss or doubt / No living with or doing without - before raising his free hand to knock.
Where money ain't the power king...
On the other side of the door the music continued to play. The name of the artist was one Brad knew - his voice was one of a kind - but he just could not place the song. Trying to recall, he knocked again.
And kindness... is the most pre--cious thing...
"Staci ?" he called out, the name seeming to echo off the walls of the hall as he did so. When still there was no answer, he reached for the doorknob, gently turning the brass handle - it was possible that Staci had gone out and left the radio on, but not very likely. Maybe she had just fallen asleep...
Where angels sing.(1)
Meat Loaf ! The name suddenly came to him as the knob turned freely in his hand. A triumphant smile on his face because he had finally remembered, he had the door about halfway open before realizing what he was doing.
"Staci ? It's Brad." Again there was only the sound of the radio to answer him. "Okay, I'm coming in. If you're not decent, you'd better speak up now."
With closed eyes - if Staci was indecent, and had not answered him because she was absorbed in one of the countless Romance novels she read, he wanted to give her a chance to notice him and cover up - Brad opened the door wide and stepped into the apartment, opening his eyes after a few seconds had passed with no sound of movement from within.
Like his own apartment, Staci's place was considerably brighter and more attractive than the corridor, with only thin shears in front of the window to filter the late afternoon sunlight. Film posters - Casablanca, Untamed Heart, Frankie and Johnny - decorated the otherwise blank white walls, each picture professionally mounted and laminated. Her stereo, a relatively inexpensive Sanyo, occupied a set of shelves which included both the television and an equally inexpensive VCR; her collection of Romance novels filled out the remaining spaces. Against the wall directly opposite the shelving unit rested a light blue couch, with dusty rose and white flowers scattered throughout the design.
The living room was as empty as the corridor.
"Staci ?"
Stepping into the small kitchen just long enough to set the casserole dish on the counter, Brad began to move toward the short hall leading to the bedroom and the bathroom. With each step, the concern he felt for his friend grew more and more, edging very nearly into trepidation. His hand shaking slightly, he reached out for the half closed bedroom door, pushing it soundlessly open.
"Staci !"
All thoughts of Chris and Kevin fled from his mind as he rushed to the bed. Placing one knee on the edge, he stretched forth his hand to lift her dirty blonde head from where it lay limply on the pillow, completely unaware as he brushed heavily against one pale leg, the dark black stocking rolled down awkwardly to just below the knee. Cradling her cheek against his chest, he began to cry out softly in despair.
"Oh Jesus ! No..."
Her graceful hand slipped from his grasp as he attempted to lift it with his own free hand, falling loosely back to rest against her nearly colourless skin. Oblivious to the barely noticeable coolness of her bare midriff, he quickly took hold of her hand once more, entwining his fingers desperately with hers and bringing the two to rest roughly against his own cheek.
"This can't be right... It can't be..."
Her flaxen hair - at one time tied back in a loose ponytail, but now in disarray - cascaded silkenly over his fingers as he lifted her head away from his chest and looked down at her seraphic features. Still holding tightly onto her hand, he began to shake her, gently at first, but with more urgency as her eyelids remained closed.
"Come on, Goddamn it ! Wake up ! This isn't funny !"
A dolorous cry burst from his dry throat as his eyes caught sight of the fading bruise around her slim neck.
"How's he doing ?"
"He seems to be alright. He's just been sitting in front of the tv watching that cartoon of Bugs Bunny, over and over."
They stood close together in the kitchen of his own apartment, talking in hushed tones to each other. Gingerly, Chris reached out and wiped the drying tears from Brad's cheek with one hand.
"I didn't tell him everything, just that Staci had had a bad accident. I wanted to see how you wanted to handle it, first."
"Thanks."
With both of his hands he took hold of Chris' and simply stood there for a moment with his eyes closed, savouring the feel of her skin on his. For those brief seconds everything seemed safe and right, and the memory of the past few hours - Staci's lifeless and nearly naked body sprawled across the bed; the sympathetic, but at the same time seemingly disinterested, words of the police officers; the harsh flash of the camera as every small detail of the apartment was meticulously recorded ... - was pushed a little further away.
But he could not remain on that safe island of sanity forever, no matter how much he wanted to. There was Kevin to think of...
Still holding onto Chris, he dropped his hands and, with a deep breath, opened his eyes once more.
"You've done more than enough already."
"That's what friends are for." The quick look of uncertainty in Brad's eyes caused her to quickly add, with the deepest sincerity: "And you know we're more than friends..."
"Yeah, I know."
They stood that way for another moment - looking into each others eyes, Brad's hands holding onto Chris' - until Brad reluctantly broke the spell, his mind returning to the images of Staci's death with a momentary flush of guilt at having almost lost himself to the moment while she lay in some sterile room, doctors tearing her body apart to perform the obligatory autopsy.
"I think it's probably best if I talk to Kevin alone. He's going to be quite shaken up. He... he loved Staci - in his own way."
"How about you ? Are you going to be okay ?"
"I'll manage."
Letting go of Chris' hand, he gave her a smile of reassurance as he began to move toward the front room. Silently, she trailed behind.
At the archway separating the two rooms, Brad stopped, his eyes going to the form of his brother crouched down in front of the television, where Elmer Fudd was in the woods hunting his nemesis; the sound was turned completely down. There was something about the way Kevin squatted that made Brad want to break out in tears once again: the way Kevin was hunched forward on his feet, his thick arms wrapped tightly around his knees, his whole form rocking gently back and forth as his eyes were fixed firmly on the screen in front of him, softly humming the tune to some song that was familiar to Brad but which he could not place.
"Kevin."
It was Chris who broke the silence, earning a grateful smile from Brad.
Slowly - his movements were lethargic, as if he were moving through some dense liquid - Kevin turned to face them. There was no recognition at the sight of his brother, so involved was he in his own thoughts. He continued to hum as he absently gazed at the pair standing in the kitchen archway.
"I have to go now."
The whole set of his face, until then conveying only marked detachment, took on an anxious expression, most visible in the way his eyes widen slightly and a crease formed over his brow. At the same time, his humming took on a more forceful tone. To Brad it almost seemed that Kevin was preparing to pounce on Chris if she made a move toward the front door. It was not until she continued in her calm voice that the tenseness drained from his body.
"Just for a while, I promise. I'll be back in the morning."
" 'Kay."
Just as simply, he turned back to stare at the images on the television, Chris and Brad apparently forgotten. With a nod of her head, Chris motioned for Brad to follow her out into the front hall.
"You're sure the two of you will be okay ?" Leaning against the wall, she began to pull on her white-and-pink sneakers.
"Yeah."
In thoughtful silence, he watched as Chris finished tying her laces and pulled on her gray windbreaker. Then, ready to leave, she moved close and kissed him lightly on the side of the mouth.
"Well then... I guess I should go."
Reaching behind her to open the door, she looked carefully into his face for some sign, some signal that he was all right, that he was not going to break down as soon as she left. Satisfied by what she saw, she went on, "If you need anything - you know, someone to talk to - call. Don't worry about the time."
"I will. And Chris... thanks. For everything."
"No problem."
With one last glance toward the front room, where Kevin, though unseen, could still be heard softly humming, Chris turned and left.
"Kevin ? Why don't you come over here and sit down for a minute. I need to talk to you about something."
Returning to the living room, Brad had finally placed the song which his brother was humming: "Run, Baby, Run." Before her de... It had been one of Staci's favourite tunes.
"Kev ?"
Seemingly unaware of Brad, Kevin continued to rock back and forth slowly, his eyes fixed forward as he stared at the cartoon Staci had bought him less than a month earlier.
For a moment Brad stood watching his brother's wide back in silence. Then he moved to stand behind him, gently placing his hands on Kevin's shoulder in a comforting gesture. Almost as soon as he did so, Kevin spoke in a sad, curious voice - a voice filled with something close to desperation, as if he had been struggling with the question he asked for a long time but had been unable to come up with an answer on his own.
"Who's that ?"
"Who..." Brad began, taken off-guard.
"That woman."
Unwrapping one thick arm from around his knees, Kevin pointed at the picture resting on top of the television set. Although it had been taken more than twenty years ago, the young boy - about six years of age - was easily recognizable as Brad; his blondish hair had long since darkened until it had reached its present light brown, but the hazel eyes which smiled at the camera were most definitely his. As for the woman...
"That's our mother."
Seven months pregnant at the time the photograph had been taken, the woman was still stunningly beautiful. Her perfectly sculpted features - high cheeks, delicate nose and chin, loving brown eyes - were surrounded by long, curly strands of dark brown hair; Brad could still remember the feel of that hair as he had playfully held it in his childish fingers. Conscious of her sensitive condition at the time, the young Brad, rather than sitting in her lap as he had loved to do, stood deferentially at his mother's side, lightly holding one of her hands in his own small fist as they both smiled for the camera.
Brad realized that Kevin had been staring, not at the television as he had first thought, but at the picture which sat atop the set.
"Mother..."
The forlorn sound of that one simple word caused the tears he had thought stopped to once more begin to flow slowly down his cheeks.
"Kev..." He started after they had silently run their course.
"Staci's gone away, ain't she." It was not really a question, but more a statement of some unchangeable fact.
"Yeah."
"Is she with her ?" He nodded in the direction of the picture. "With our... mother ?"
"Yeah." Removing one hand from where it rested, Brad wiped at his moist face. "They're together. In Heaven."
"What's it like ?"
"Heaven ?"
"Yeah."
"Well, it's... It's the most beautiful garden you've ever seen. The trees are greener than anything on earth, and the flowers... Thousands - millions - of them, in all colours and fragrances. It's the kind of place where animals walk with the people in peace - even the most ferocious, like the lions and minks." While he talked, Brad could almost envision the picture he painted to set Kevin's mind at rest. "The grass is almost as green as the leaves of the trees, and each blade is perfect for using as whistles, you know, like we usually do - put them between you thumbs and blow. But the sound's not harsh, not like when we usually do it, but kind of soft - almost like... like a harp. And there's... there's a little stream which flows into a calm lake. And on the banks of the lake, on the grass, that's where Mom and Staci and... " - he almost said their father, but caught himself; people like him would never sit on that shore - "all our other loved ones sit and wait for us. With the sun shining warmly overhead in the clear blue sky, they sit on the banks of that lake and talk and laugh and smile as they wait for us to join them, each one taking turns to watch over those of us left here. That's Heaven. That's where Staci and our mother are. Waiting for us in that garden."
When he had finished, he fell silent, almost wishing he could believe what he had described to be real.
"That's a Good place, ain't it ?"
"Yeah, it's a Good place."
For the first time since Chris had left, Kevin turned his gaze from the television - the picture, Brad corrected himself - and looked directly into his brother's face. Like Brad, his eyes were slightly swollen from tears. With his free hand - his other was still wrapped around his knees - Kevin wiped his eyes.
"I hope she waits for us..."
