My Brother's House

I stayed on the porch when I got to my brother's house. From inside I heard a song that spoke of Jesus and redemption and the golden roads of Heaven. I remembered the hymn from my childhood as a happy, victorious number. Inside they had transposed it into an ethereal dirge cluttered with minor-sevenths and broken by accidentals.

My sister Joanna stepped out the front door and pulled out a pack of smokes. She noticed me and hugged me with a force generally reserved for bad times.

"Want one?" she asked as she lit a smoke.

"Sure," I said. I hadn't smoked since I was a teenager, but these were trying times. "How is he?"

"His breathing is worse. He isn't drinking much. His pulse is getting weaker, but the nurse said that doesn't mean anything. He could go in three weeks or three hours. There's no way to tell. " She stood there for a minute, taking quick, deep puffs of her cigarette. "I hate this. All this waiting..."

"Could I have a couple minutes alone with him? I need to say goodbye."

"If you can work your way past all the people in there. They don't come around here for years and then when he's on his deathbed they crawl over each other to get at the corpse."

"I think it's good to have family around," I said, "Makes it easier to get through."

"I'm just so tired."

"I'll talk to them... after I talk to him."

We smoked our smokes and walked into the house.

The room was lit by dim sunlight filtered through thick blue curtains. My sister Jackie and her two daughters were sitting near Paul. They held his hand and cried. My sister Darcy sat on the floor, crying on Jackie's leg.

Jackie and Darcy's eyes were black with worry. They (along with Joanna) had taken care of Paul since the beginning of it all and looked determined to stay until the end. No good.

Joanna walked over to Darcy and whispered to her. Darcy motioned to the others and they left me there, alone, face to face with what was left of my big brother.

I stood up and got a good look at him. His eyes were cloudy-white. His once-husky build had vanished and left little more than a skeleton. He was far removed from the hot-shot high school athlete I'd grown up with.

I found superficial things to occupy my mind while I worked up the fortitude to go over to him. I counted his breaths: about thirteen per minute. I looked at the photographs that covered the walls. There was one of Paul and my son Greg under a bridge in North Carolina. My son caught a fishing hook in his cheek the day that picture was taken. Scared the hell out of Paul. He was so excitable. Anytime we fished after that he insisted Greg wear a hockey mask.

I sat down beside Paul. When I got close I could see his face was ashen and his neck was swollen and red. The sickness had turned a man of fifty-five into a man who looked twice that age. I grabbed his hand. It was cool, but not ice-cold. His eyes fluttered.

"Paul, it's your brother."

hrzm... brd...

His hand twitched in mine.

"I'm here. I'm sorry I haven't been. I need you to know that it wasn't because I didn't want to be. Joanna called me and told me how serious everything was. I waited for that call. I didn't want to have to say goodbye more than once. I... I forget what I was going to say... I don't know what to say. I'm sorry. I'm a good man now, Paul."

I wasn't quite sure about that. I'm still not.

"I was just remembering when we came to see you and Bea in Carolina. You remember that? It was fun, wasn't it? Remember when we used to break into school on Saturdays to play basketball? We couldn't get away with that now! We had some good times, huh?"

"I've been so scared of this day... of you. But I love you, Paul."

I stood up and hugged him hard. I wanted to cry but I couldn't find the tears. I tried to make myself cry. I could not find the tears. I needed them but they weren't there. I hugged him harder to compensate.

Yzzzhs...yr...be...hpmfff...

I put my ears closer to his lips.

"Say it again, Paul."

you... help me... I... my Bea...

"You'll see her soon, Paul."

I haven't believed in heaven or hell or God or anything like that in years. It wasn't the best time to lie, but he needed some sort of hope. I couldn't tell him I didn't think he'd never see his wife again. Right?

help me...

"Help you what, Paul?"

bea...

"Do you want something of hers?"

His hand twitched.

"You'll see her again, Paul." His eyes snapped wide open. I saw the look in his eyes that I used to see when we were younger... when there were lots of things to laugh about. It was a look I had missed. It's a look I remember even though it hurts. It didn't last nearly long enough.

"It'll be done soon, Paul."

I told him I loved him again and gave him another hug. His arm flipped up on me and tried to pull me closer. It's amazing... the strength he had even at that low moment. I looked in his eyes and tried to force the tears out. They failed me.

I passed Darcy on my way out and told her it was close. We stood and exchanged looks of relief while our brother gasped in the next room. We hugged each other and I stepped out on the porch.

I sat there playing with an old toy boat one of his grandkids must have left. I heard a couple of the younger ones took apart their daddy's mower and couldn't put it back together. When I considered who their grandfather was I wasn't surprised

Joanna came out and saw me playing with the toy boat.

"He's gone," she said, "He just went. 10:46AM, February the third. We need to write that down so we can remember. The ambulance will be here soon. And we need to make-- we need to make sure he isn't forgotten."

"Look at the people who are here. He did something for all of them and they all love him. He was a good man who lived a good life."

I tried to cry again.

I thought about all the lost years.

I hugged my sister and I wept, damn it.

"He hugged me, Joanna. And he saw me."

"Be quiet, " she said, "Right now you're home." She put her hand on my back and pushed me toward my brother's house.

"Come in and see your family."