I'll guard you from the monsters on the tv,
from the pirates in the corners of your dreams.
I'll keep you from the cold, and safe from trolls;
from the bad men while you play.
I'll hunt for crocodiles and snakes with smiles
I'll keep them far away
from your innocence
in all its wonder(1)
"Okay, Kev. Time for bed."
"Aaaww..."
Brad looked up from his notebook in time to cut his brother off.
"Don't argue. You've got to be up early tomorrow if you want to go with Chris and me."
That did it.
His disappointment at having to leave his friends - the cartoon figures which danced gleefully across the television screen - for another night quickly changed to excitement as he remembered what was planned for tomorrow. In one fluid motion, Kevin reached out, turned the television off, rose to his feet and turned to face Brad.
"We going to see the horses !"
"That's right, Kev. We're going to see the horses."
For the last week - ever since Chris had suggested the winter sleigh-ride - Kevin had grown increasingly excited at the prospect of the trip; growing up, the only horses he had ever seen up close were those on the television. But to be able to actually touch one... it was like a dream come true.
"I'm ready for bed !" Even as he spoke, Kevin began to move towards his bedroom.
"Not so fast there, slugger."
He stopped and turned back to look at his brother, a hint of dread in his large eyes.
"You have to wash your face and brush your teeth, first."
Relief washed over him - he had thought that Brad was going to tell him the sleigh-ride was off - as he nodded vigorously.
"'kay."
"And don't forget to get behind your ears !"
"I won't !"
When Kevin entered the bathroom and let the door close behind him, Brad likewise rose to his feet, turned off the front room lights and moved towards the bedroom hall, carrying his notebook with him. As he passed the bathroom door, he could hear Kevin inside, talking excitedly to himself about tomorrow.
With a smile on his face, Brad entered his own room and turned on the light. Moving over to the bed, he took the notebook and pushed it underneath one of the pillows so that he would be reminded before he went to sleep to finish what he had started; although he had said almost everything he could, there was still more he needed to clarify - to expand upon for his own sake, even if only to better understand his own feelings.
That done, he removed his jacket from the back of his desk chair and slipped it on before returning to the hallway, just as Kevin was coming out of the bathroom.
"Where ya goin' ?"
"I'm going to the store. And I want you in bed when I get back, understand ?"
"Sure, Brad. And then, when I wake up we goin' to see the horses !"
"That's right."
"Yeah, I'll be 'sleep when ya get back. You betcha ! I'll be 'sleep soon as I crawl in bed. Sooner ! I feel myself startin' to fall 'sleep now..." Giving action to his words, Kevin's eyelids began to lower drowsily even as he moved towards his bedroom.
"When you get in bed will be soon enough, Kev !" Brad called out after him.
"Sssshhh !" came Kevin's whispered reply. "I sleepin'..."
Smiling to himself, Brad reached in and turned off the bathroom light - once more, Kevin had forgotten - before pulling on his boots and leaving the apartment, letting the door swing silently shut behind him.
"Hello, Bradley."
Holding the inner door of the apartment building open for Mrs Robertson - a talkative woman in her late-sixties who had lived in the building for forever - Brad smiled warmly back at her greeting.
"Hi, Mrs Robertson. How was Bingo ?"
"Oh, you know... The same as always."
"Didn't win ?"
"Nah. I think that Ms Scadding has something going with Herman. This is the third week in a row that she's won the pot. I just know that it's that tight top she wears; Herman's eyes are always staring at her chest."
Coming from anyone else, that would have sounded like the complaint of a gossipy old woman. But the way Mrs Robertson said it, Brad couldn't help chuckling; always stating that she was not one to be judgemental of people, Mrs Robertson seemed nonetheless to take great pleasure in pointing out the faults of others. She seemed to forget the fact that Herman - Mr Magill, as almost everyone else called him - was an eighty-two year old gentleman who could barely see the end of his nose, even with his glasses, let alone the chest of a woman seated across a smoky Bingo Hall.
"Maybe I'll wear something extra-special next week." she absently commented, seeming to forget that Brad was still standing in the doorway. "Maybe then I'll be lucky."
"I'm sure you will, Mrs Robertson."
But Mrs Robertson was no longer paying him any mind. Instead, she was starting to make her way across the lobby in the direction of the elevator, muttering thoughtfully to herself, "I think the blue dress with the roses will do just nicely. Or maybe the beige one..."
Smiling, Brad let the door swing silently shut as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. The first rush of the cool wind - it was the first week of December, after all, even though the weather was still more like Fall - caused him to shiver and pull the collar of his coat closer around his neck before shoving his hands into the deep pockets of his coat. When he had been talking to Mrs Robertson in the doorway, he had not noticed how much the temperature had dropped from what it had been this afternoon. It felt like the snow the weatherman had predicted would start well before morning.
Even though it was only a few minutes after nine o'clock on a Friday night, the streets had the appearance of a deserted city: no cars moving, no one out walking, not even any cats or dogs. But then again, 'twas the season... most people were probably either still out shopping, or at their staff Christmas parties. This time next week, he'd be at a party himself: the annual Christmas Dance at the Centre. If things there went as he hoped...
Just that thought caused him to pick up his pace with a smile.
The choice had been made - all that remained was to carry that choice to its conclusion.
Chris...
With a little luck, that conclusion would be the one he hoped for.
The rest of the two-block walk to the store passed in what seemed an instant as Chris' image - most especially her grayish-green eyes and her ginger-brown hair - kept him company.
"Hey man, got any cigarettes ?"
He hadn't even seen the two figures standing just out of the range of the store's light until the shorter of the two had spoken, so absorbed had he been in his thoughts of Chris.
"Pardon..."
"You got any cigarettes ? You know, smokes ?"
Even though the two figures were half obscured in the dark, Brad could see that they were both males, and that the speaker was a youth who couldn't have been any more than fifteen or sixteen years old; his companion looked maybe a year older.
"No. I'm fresh out."
"What about some change ? You must have something you can give us ?" The taller of the two moved in closer on Brad's right as he spoke, while the shorter moved to his left.
Knowing what was about to happen, Brad stuck one hand into his jacket pocket - ostensibly to retrieve some change - while at the same time moving one step closer to the light.
"Yeah, I think I've got a dollar or two..."
The taller of the pair tried to get closer, to block off Brad's retreat, but Brad managed to shuffle to the side; the light from the store now completely illuminated them.
"Just give me a second..."
The shorter youth's breathe was a cloud of smoke in his face as Brad made as if looking for some coins in the depths of his pocket - he had grabbed his keys almost instantly, but was desperately trying to gain some time to come up with another solution.
"I was right. I think I've got something..."
He slowly started to remove his hand, his keys grasped firmly in preparation.
"Hey ! What's going on here ?"
All three turned in the direction of the voice.
"Nothing, man." the taller of the youths called threateningly to the shopkeeper standing in the doorway of the store. "Nothing that concerns you."
"I think you're wrong about that." As he spoke, the shopkeeper - at least sixty, judging by the gravelly tone of his voice and the slight crouch in his stance- pulled his right hand out from behind his back, revealing a large, aluminum baseball bat. "After all, you're standing in front of my store."
The way he stood in the doorway - the sodium lights from inside throwing his extended shadow almost to the spot where the three were standing - the bat held firmly in his hand, left little doubt of his intention to use the weapon, if need be.
"Come on," the shorter youth urged his friend. "It's not worth it."
"What's it going to be ?"
The answer was the sounds of the two youths backing away from Brad, muttering curses as they retreated.
"And have a Merry Christmas !" the shopkeeper yelled after them when they were halfway down the block.
"Fuck you !!" they turned and yelled as one.
"Kids these days..."
Laughing softly - more in relief at his rescue than because of the man's mock-humourous tone - Brad moved further into the light, entering the store as the shopkeeper held the door wide for him.
"Thanks. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come out."
"Forget about it. I'm just protecting my investment. It wouldn't be good business to let people get mugged in front of my store."
The off-hand, almost embarrassed, way he said it gave lie to the cold hard truth the man tried to convey.
"Well anyway, I owe you."
"These kids," the man started to ramble as he moved back behind the counter, returning the baseball bat to its shelf below the cash register. "They're getting more and more cocky every year, I swear. Not two weeks ago, I had a group of them try to hold me up. With a banana ! Can you believe it ? One of them had it stuffed inside his jacket pocket and was making like it was a big gun..."
As the shopkeeper continued his rant, Brad moved to the rear of the store and picked out a carton of egg nog from the refrigerator, along with another of milk. Balancing them in one hand, he stopped on his way to the register so he could pull out two ice cream sandwiches from a second refrigerator - the kind with chocolate chips in them, Kevin's favourite.
"Back in my day," he didn't even pause as he started to ring in Brad's purchase, "you never saw kids running in packs, scaring good people with their wild eyes and foul mouths. That'll be $6.74. Once, when I used that word, my mother took me and washed my mouth out with soap. Can you believe it ? Let me tell you, I've never said that word since, not even when I broke my leg back in '77. Even though it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, I didn't say it. Here's your change."
"Thanks."
The man continued to speak, even though Brad was moving towards the front door.
"But now, every second word out of a kid's mouth is F. It's F this, and F that. 'How are you today ?', 'I'm F-ing good !' I think parents have to take more control of their kids. Otherwise no one's going to have any respect for anyone."
"Merry Christmas !" Brad called over his shoulder as he opened the door and stepped back out into the chill night air.
"Merry Christmas to you, too ! And Season's..."
The closing door cut off the rest of his words.
He had not intentionally cut him off to be rude: that was just the way to handle the shopkeeper, unless you wanted to spend the night there. Once he got going, nothing could stop him, even if there was no one there to listen to his stories. Brad had learned that lesson almost as soon as he had started going there: for over three hours he had stood in the store listening to the man tell him about his life. It wasn't until the shopkeeper had told him that he should just leave, if he wanted to - "Don't you worry about hurting my feelings. I know I ramble on and on. If you want to leave, just go. I won't be offended. Not like my cousin Louis. Everything offends him, even if you look at him the wrong way. There was this one time, must have been back in '63 or '64..." - that Brad had really understood the man.
While he had been in the store, the snow had started to fall. Even though he had only been inside for no more than five minutes, a light dusting already covered everything.
Kevin'll be thrilled, he thought as he made his way back towards the apartment, his free hand stuffed deeply into his jacket pocket in an effort to keep at least one part of his body warm.
His feet breaking the fresh carpeting, leaving behind indelible traces of his passing, his thoughts once more drifted to Chris, and his hopes for their future together. He had planned on waiting until Christmas Eve before making his move, but now, with the arrival of the fresh snow, tomorrow morning seemed like a better time. A peaceful, brisk day, picture-perfect with the snow, the sleigh, the horse, would be a much better time to ask her than a quiet evening in his apartment in front of an artificial tree.
Besides, he knew he would not be able to wait another three weeks. Last night he had almost asked her - he had picked up the ring earlier in the day - had almost pulled it out of its hiding place...
The unexpected force of the blow to his stomach sent him stumbling backwards, an explosion of warm blood bursting from his mouth as he desperately tried to hold his balance on the slippery surface.
The second blow took him just above the left eye, and he found himself collapsing to the sidewalk, the bag of groceries sprawling to the side.
His face aflame with pain, he could barely focus enough to make out the two youths glaring down at him. In the hands of the taller one was what looked like a piece of two-by-four, a rusted nail protruding out of one side.
"Merry Fucking Christmas !"
The shorter youth used his booted foot to emphasize his words, bringing it roughly into his stomach.
For a moment, the pain in his stomach overrode that of the pain above his eye.
Then the youth's companion brought the end of the board down again, the nail digging into the flesh of his chin, and the pain gave way to the sweet blissfulness of oblivion...
The foyer of the apartment was in near total darkness when he entered; the yellowish-orange light from the streetlamps outside barely illuminated the front room of the apartment at the best of times - it rarely ever reached into the front hall. Still, after living in the apartment for three years, Brad was easily able to make his way to the bathroom, close the door and turn on the light, despite the dark.
What he saw when he finally worked up the courage to look in the mirror caused him to grasp tightly to the white porcelain of the sink to steady himself: his left eye was swollen almost completely shut, the area of his chin where the nail had struck was gouged down to the pale-white bone, and the lower half of his face was splattered with the still-wet blood which had erupted from his mouth as a result of the initial blow to his stomach.
He had often heard the guys at work use the term to describe how they felt the morning after a night out drinking, but he didn't think any of them had ever more truly fit the description: he looked like hell.
With his bloodied right hand, he reached out and turned on the hot water, letting the liquid flow until the steam began to rise into the air. Bracing himself against the inevitable, he thrust both hands under the scalding water, holding them there despite the pain until all traces of the blood were gone. Only then did he turn on the cold tap.
After removing his jacket and placing it on the toilet seat, he retrieved a fresh cloth from under the sink, and tenderly began to wash the blood from his face, wincing more than once when the water came in contact with the open wound on his chin.
All in all, it took close to half an hour before he once more resembled something akin to normal. If not for the fresh bandage on his chin - already blood was beginning to soak through - the second one above his left eye and the way his hand went instinctively to his stomach whenever he moved, he would look as if nothing had happened...
Picking up his jacket, he flipped off the bathroom light and moved into his bedroom, where he placed the jacket on the back of his chair. Pausing for a moment in the dark, he stood bent over as pain once more flashed through his body, his breathe coming out in a ragged gasp, almost a silent scream. By sheer force of his will, he managed to push the pain back; not away - it was too intense, too sharp - but far enough so that he could stand up straight.
So that he could walk down the hall to Kevin's room.
...lilacs, roses, daffodils, ladyslippers... the entire spectrum of the rainbow seemed to be represented in the millions of flowers which dotted the banks of the stream, all blending into an eye-pleasing masterpiece of colour.
And likewise, their varied aromas...
He enjoyed the scenery - the trees, as well as the flowers - as he made his way along the wide grass path which followed the stream's bank, all of his senses alive to the beauty of the landscape. Once or twice, when the mood struck, he would pause, lower his nose 'til it was no more than an inch from a flower, and inhale deeply, his whole frame shaking in pleasure at the wonderful bouquet.
Try as he might, he could not remember a place so beautiful.
Finally, he turned a bend in the path and found himself in an open area, the stream giving way at last to a lake, not so much as a ripple on its glass-like surface.
And seated beside the lake, their bare feet resting in the calm water, were his mother and Staci, smiling joyfully at each other and laughing at nothing and everything.
"Mom ?"
At the sound of his voice, his mother turned until she saw him; the smile on her face became even wider and happier.
"Son," her voice was sweeter than even the sweetest of flowers. As she spoke, she and Staci both extended their arms invitingly in his direction, beckoning for him to come closer, to join them on the banks of the lake.
The grass massaged and tickled his feet as he began to move in their direction, his steps coming faster with each one. Even as he neared, the two women rose to their feet and spread their arms to welcome him.
"Kevin..."
He stopped where he was, turning to look in the direction of the speaker.
"Brad ? What're you doin' here ?"
As he watched, Brad moved from where he had been standing at the edge of the trees.
"I belong here, now."
"Isn't it beautiful ?"
His face beaming with new light, Brad smiled down at his brother, who was motioning at everything with one large hand.
"Yes, it is."
"Where's Chris ?"
At the mention of her name, a flash of regret passed quickly over Brad's face.
"She's doesn't belong here yet."
"Why not ?"
"And neither do you..."
Already, his surroundings were beginning to fade to transparency.
"Brad ?"
"Don't be afraid, Kevin. It's too soon for you."
"I gettin' scared, Brad..."
"Don't. I'm here to watch over you. Like I always have been."
The lake and the stream, the flowers, the grass and the trees were all gone, now, replaced by a soothing light in which stood only himself and his brother.
"Brad ?"
Fear was trying to overwhelm him - to push away the feeling of peacefulness which had been there in the garden.
But then Brad raised one hand and placed it lovingly on his forehead.
The fear vanished as quickly as it had come, as did Brad, leaving him alone in the light.
"Remember that I love you..."
Kevin opened his eyes slowly as the dream faded.
It took him a second to adjust to the dimness of his room - he had pulled the shade down over his window before pulling on his Bugs Bunny pyjamas and crawling into bed - but when he did, he was comforted by the sight of Brad sitting in his usual chair by the door.
Pulling his knees up close under his chin, he gazed at his brother as he excitedly began to speak.
"I just had the best dream ! Mom was in it. And Staci. And you. It was that garden you was tellin' me about. The one with the trees and the stream and the lake. And the flowers ! It was sooo beautiful ! Just like you told it !"
Brad remained motionless in the chair, his eyes closed, giving no indication that he had heard him.
"Brad ? You awake ?"
No answer.
Letting the covers fall away, Kevin sat up on the edge of the bed, using his large hands to push himself to a standing position.
"Brad ?" he whispered softly as he padded over to stand beside his brother. Noticing the bandages, he felt a moment of fear that something was terribly wrong.
But the look on his brother's face - he appeared to be sleeping peacefully; there even looked to be a slight smile, though he couldn't tell for sure in the darkness - soothed his anxiety.
Slowly, he lowered himself to the floor beside the chair, careful so as not to disturb Brad, and then placed his head in his brother's lap. Closing his tired eyes once more, he gave way to the gentle lull of the night.
"I love you, too..."
