The sun beat down upon his brow with an ungodly brightness. He held his hand in salute just above his eyes to acclimate. The sun did more then just blind, it oppressed the whole of his body. Walking outside was like stepping into a broiling oven. The humidity so heavy he could of sworn he would slice through it with his hand. His gaze surveyed the ever-constant surrounding's of his grandparents backyard. With only a few slight changes he was looking at the same view for the past 20 years give or take (he was nearly 24, but he could not remember his first years and therefore did not count them). He walked without hurry to the metal patio set that sat in the shadow of a half broke half (?) blue and white umbrella. Charlie was not sure how the umbrella was broken, but he assumed at the hands of either himself or his brother. It was a safe assumption and he was not wrong. He did not sit in the chair so much as plop with a long Neanderthal like groan, his own private protest against the debilitating heat. His brother followed quietly and minus the groan surmised his actions with his slow laborious walk and his own plopping, though he plopped for a different reasons entirely.
They both pulled a cigarette from their own boxes. Each with a different brand that to Charlie seemed to epitomize the ever growing division in who they were and what they were becoming. He imagined years ago, many years ago it seemed now, when Forbes considered it a heinous sacrilege to touch or use anything not the exact same as his older brothers. Charlie mulled this over in his head and was not surprised to find himself very depressed by the thought. He had done this, he had dug it with his own hands. "Can I get a light, I left mine in the car." His brother pulled a yellow bic lighter from his pocket, lit his cigarette and without saying a word handed him the lighter. Placing the cigarette in his mouth he gently lifted the lighter and commenced to light his cigarette tossing the lighter on the patio table.
Why was this so tense, so forced? he wondered. Feeling rather uncomfortable he turned and gazed out at the yard. The grass was a hollow all be it sickly green. Choked by the weeds and crab grass that was growing in patches sporadically through out the yard. This seemed comical to him, given his Grandfathers profession killing weeds professionally for all the farmers in the area. He could imagine his Grandfather walking out in the cool, crisp mornings with a cup of coffee in his hand. The look of annoyance as he shook his head at the vinelicture weeds. Did he feels as if the weeds were attacking him personally? Or did he think it was just one of those things that happened and you either dealt with them or you didn't. A slow deep grin plastered his face and for a second their was nothing but the crab grass and his Grandfather's perturbed angry grimace. For a second he was no longer aware of his problem, the world's problems. For the his problems were the world's problems, surely? They were gone then his brother spoke and broke the spell.
Or he didn't speak as so much as grunt. At what or who he dared not guess. No, his brother would not speak. It was up to him to start the conversation, if there was to be a conversation at all. And so he spoke, saying the first thing that came to mind. He would speak and Forbes would listen. Then Forbes would speak and Charlie would listen. They both talked and talked but really said nothing. It was empty, like a greeting from someone at church holding the door open as you walked in. You said something because you were suppose to. It meant nothing because it was nothing. But this wasn't nothing . The whole conversation Charlie was painfully aware what this was. It was a formality funeral, they were burying whatever bond they once had. He would open his mouth, throwing a shovel of gravel on the casket, a sort of sad resigned look on his face. His brother would respond incessably shoveling dirt, rock and (?) cement in a grave already half-way full. Did Forbes know what they were doing? No, he thought suddenly. Forbes was not slow on the uptake. No, it was he who had been slow. This was not just occurring as they spoke. This was a conclusion to a process that began years ago. Had his brother stood here watching me toss dirt nonchalantly on to everything they were. Thinking all the while "Doesn't he care? Doesn't he know what is going on?" Did Forbes ever shed a tear as he watched his older brother shovel so maliciously, not a care in the world, so oblivious to it all. What a fool he was, what a fucking bastard he was. But, did he know what he had been doing?
All these things Charlie imagine Forbes thinking. After a while he must of become numb to it. After all it was obvious his older brother did not care, so then why should he. But he did care, he was just...Oblivious to it all. He was not consciously aware of the damage he was doing. So now here they sit. His own brother his once constant companion, now all but in sum a stranger. This was a horrid situation to find himself in. Because he honestly did not know what to do or even how to begin to do this thing which he did not know what to do. So he did what he did know how to do. He bullshitted. "So, Troy, huh?" "Yeah, man it's pretty cool. Dude let me see your phone." Forbes motioned for the phone with his hand, the burning cigarette in between his middle and forefinger. Charlie made no move to grab his phone. He had no interest in seeing his brothers snake. But he also did not want to shove any distaste at anything his brother had to offer. In times past he was always forthright in his inner feeling with his brother. No, they were not always pretty, but they were honest. Now he felt forced to share whatever interests held his brothers fancy. So for the sake of their non-incessant camaraderie he reached into his front pocket of his khaki shorts. Pulling out the phone, he handed him the phone trying to look happy or at least half way pleased to do so. He turned the phone on and quickly commenced with the password. Charlie had always used the same password and Forbes typed it in without blinking an eye.
Charles looked once more at his environment, masking his discontent at the way things were playing out. Things were not progressing badly, yet the problem was they were not progressing at all. But was there a scripted agenda to how this was to play out? Truthfully he had nearly stumbled upon this sordid event. He had hoped very empathetically that his brother would be otherwise occupied for his brief visit at his Grandmothers. As a matter of fact, he expected it. Though he was not upset with the sudden change of characters he was presented with upon walking through the doors. He was not truly aware of the gravity of the situations prior to his sudden epiphany moments ago. He breathed in deeply and sighed in annoyance. Forbes looked up briefly at the sound, assumed him impatient and hurriedly began (?) pushing buttons rapidly. "I think Mother already showed me the pictures of your snake." "Did you see him eat?" Forbes replied eagerly without looking up. It was his eagerness that suddenly pressed his interest at the uninteresting snake. His brother was not so much trying to fill an empty silence with a well known stranger as share a passion with a distant friend. "Perhaps, not all is lost." The thought resonating in a million different directions as he pondered all the implications while no longer forcing a smile as he took the phone from his brother's hand to study Forbes beloved snake. It was a still picture from what was obviously a phone camera of just the head. Not too terribly big with lifeless eyes. Charles had no desire to hold a snake and he thought this as he turned the phone off and placed it in his pocket. His blue jean pants were tight against his thigh so he stretched out his leg to loosen the pocket up, allowing him to put the device in. He wondered if Forbes felt the same way he did about snakes. You would think the possession of the snake would point otherwise. But the obvious was hardly ever true. No, he assumed Forbes was mainly using the snake to please or possible connect with his friends. Life himself Forbes felt less than and was always making up for it by conceding his needs/wants for others.
He could not say much definitively when it came to his brother and perhaps even now he was wrong. Though in this case he would be surprised if he was. They had in the past briefly touched on the subject before. His mind suddenly took off like a dog after a tennis ball. he abjectly began to recall the conversation. Their Father was in town and had graced them with his benevolent presence. God knows what was going through his mind for the visit. Where they were concerned he was sure it was not pleasant. Not anything malicious though perhaps. More along the lines of "Oh God look at them. I hope they are on drugs. Because I would of never contributed my DNA to such fucking losers. No, it is the drugs that had done this to them. The drugs and me." That last sentence he threw in and heavily doubted his Father ever thought such a thing. It made sense to him though and it did make him feel better. Well the fight did not start until after his Father left. Funny how the walls always came down after an emotional battle. As all this was going through his head, as he pictured his brothers heavy almost pleading look of scorn that seemed to scream save me and simultaneously yell even louder "I am beyond redemption." All of this created an enormous amount of self-loathing and fear. Fear that his brother would never know how sorry he was or how much he meant to him.
No comments:
Post a Comment