And Some Left For Breakfast

My brother didn’t say anything about me being late as I slid into the seat opposite him. That was an unexpectedly positive start.

        “Evening,” I said. “Been here long?”

        Still nothing. He just smiled and slid a menu over to me.

        “Thanks,” I said. “I think I’ll order a drink first.”

        I raised my hand and ordered some wine, then opened the menu and we discussed pizza toppings for a while.

        “I suppose I could get a steak,” I said.

        “You don’t want a pizza?” he asked, a little high pitched.

        “Of course I want pizza,” I said. “You don’t come to Atlas for the ambiance.”

        He shook his head. “Shall we get a couple to share?” he asked.

        “Let’s get three,” I said. “Maybe four. Leftovers for breakfast.”

        He nodded his head. We didn’t agree on much, but we knew what looked good in the fridge in the morning.

        The waitress brought over my wine and I held up my hand for her to wait while I took a sip. “Can I have a bottle of this?” I asked. “Please,” and I drained my glass while my brother placed the pizza order. I put my glass down, feeling much better now, and pointed at my brother’s glass. “What’s that?”

        “Water.”

        “Seriously?”

        “Seriously.”

        “Ha!”

        “Shut up,” he said.

        “Sorry,” I told him. “I’m just surprised.”

        “It is what it is,” he said.

        “Deep.”

        “Shut up.”

        My phone rang but it was just Damon, so I left it. It sat on the table and rang and vibrated. I drummed my fingers on the table and wished I hadn’t finished my wine while my brother looked at the phone. “You’re not going to answer that?” he asked.

        I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

        “Then maybe decline it?”

        “He’ll give up soon,” I said.

        “That’s… fine. Whatever.”

        A few other patrons were looking at us as the phone rang on. I’d set some proper hard drum and bass as my ringtone. It was like a dentist’s drill with bleeps. Awesome stuff. I could tell my brother felt self-conscious, and it made me wish Damon would never give up. He did though. Typical of him. My brother looked at the phone, then at me, then at the phone, seeming to strain his eyeballs in the direction he wanted me to look. He was like one of those hunting dogs. The ones you get in cartoons that freeze like arrows in the direction they want the hunter to go in. “Something up?” I asked with a big smile.

        “Could you maybe put your phone in your jacket?” he asked.

        “Someone might try and call me.”

        “Someone did try and call you.”

        I looked down at my phone, feigning surprise. “Oh,” I said in a confused voice. “Damon doesn’t count.”

        “Ok,” he said. “Sure.”

        About then, the wine bottle came out. The waitress poured me a glass and left the bottle in the middle. “Would you like a glass?” she asked my brother.

        “No thanks,” he said.

        “You should,” I said. “It’s sweet. Like me.”

        He rolled his eyes at the waitress and thanked her. “I’m fine with water,” he said to me.

        “What happened to you?” I asked him. “You used to be cool.”

        “No,” he said, definitively. “I did not.”

        “Oh yeah,” I said. “My bad. I must have been thinking of someone else.”

        “You know, we should do this more often,” my brother said as the first pizza was brought over.

“We should,” I agreed.

        “How long do you think it’s been?” he asked.

        “I don’t know,” I said with a sweet smile and a flutter of the eyelids. “Much too long.”

        “Yes,” he agreed. “Much.”

        “How are the kids?” I asked.

        He looked at me but didn’t say anything.

        “And shirl? She’s ok?”

        He’d taken a slice and lifted it towards his mouth, but now he put it on his plate and looked at me. “Why?” he asked.

        “Why not?” I asked back.

        “I don’t want to fight,” he told me.

        “Nor do I.”

        “Really?”

        “Why do you think I came here?” I asked him.

        “You were hoping for free pizza?”

        “You know me so well,” I said.

        “I used to think that.”

        “Used to?”

        “Uh-huh.”

        “And now?”

        The second and third pizzas came out together and we made room for them on the table. After the waitress left, we shifted them around to make room for the fourth one.

        “Have you been looking for work?” he asked me as we piled new slices onto our plates.

        “Fuck you.”

        He pulled a shocked face and then laughed. “What’s up with you?”

        “I know where this is going.”

        “Because you know everything, yeah?”

        “That’s right,” I told him, pouring more wine. “I’m a freaking genius.”

        “Clearly.”

        “What?” I asked, lifting the glass. “You don’t think I should be allowed to enjoy myself?”

        “Calm down, calm down,” he said. He was looking around the place, worried that we’d keep drawing attention. “I didn’t mean anything by it, it was just a question.”

        “Right.”

        “It was. It was. The others will want to know if they know I’ve seen you. They’ll ask questions.”

        “So what?”

        “So what do you want me to tell them?”

        “Tell them what you like,” I said. “Do I give you the impression that I’m someone who cares what they think?”

        “Ok,” he said. “Fine. Forget it. Just eat your pizza.”

        “I will.”

        “Please do.”

        I’m going to. And I’m going to enjoy it.”

        “That’s the point,” he said.

        I didn’t take my eyes off him and he didn’t take his off me. We both tried to bite into our pizzas that way. Clumsily. Not able to see what we were doing. The ends flopped and flapped and eluded us. After a few seconds of this, we both started to laugh and took proper bites.

        We finished those slices and had a few more. The fourth pizza had arrived by then and we had some of that too. After we’d eaten as much as we could, we both sat back in contented silence. We asked the waitress to box the rest up for takeaway. In two boxes. The wine was gone now, so I ordered Irish coffee and an extra shot on the side.

        “Really?” asked my brother.

        “Don’t ruin it,” I said to him. “That was ok for a while back then.”

        “It was,” he agreed.

        “Maybe you’re not completely irredeemable,” I said.

        “Me?” he asked, holding a hand to his chest in mock shock. “Me??”

        I waved that away.

        “Seriously though,” he said. “You know people will ask about you if they know I’ve met you tonight.”

        “Then don’t tell them.”

        “Seriously?”

        “What’s your option?”

        “You could say hello. To mum at least.”

        “Screw her.”

        He shook his head. “You don’t mean that.”

        “Don’t I?”

        The waitress came back and I knocked back the shot. The coffee was too hot though. I wished I hadn’t ordered it. I wanted to leave.

        “Just think about it,” he said. “Everyone would be happy to see you.”

        “I’m not working for you again,” I said. “Ever.”

        “It’s not for you,” he said. “It’s for us.”

        “It’s not us,” I told him. “Us didn’t get caught. Us didn’t do time.”

        “That was nobody’s fault,” he said.

        “It never is,” I told him. “Is it?”

        “What do you want me to say?”

        “Nothing,” I told him. “I want you to sit here and quietly watch me drink my coffee. And then I want you to sit here while I walk out and walk away, and then you can go out to your car once I’m long gone. That’s what I want.”

        “You sound paranoid,” he said.

        “Do you know who that was calling me earlier?” I asked him.

        “No,” he said.

        “Exactly,” I told him. “That could have been anyone, wanting to say anything. Wanting me to say anything. Anything at all. Do you get what I’m saying?”

        He shook his head. “Not really.”

        I sighed and sipped my coffee. It was strong. I could feel it behind my eyes. “Look,” I said. “You’re my brother. That’s a thing. But whatever. It’s not everything. Ok? I’ve got my own things now.”

        I couldn’t tell if he looked confused or sad now. Maybe both. I really didn’t care. I hadn’t said what I’d gone there to say. That had gotten lost amongst the pizza and the wine and whatever else this had been. But never mind. I drank some more coffee and got up and picked up my jacket. I picked up the cup and downed the rest of the coffee. “Which pizza’s mine?” I asked.

        “Whichever,” he said. “You choose.”

        I took the box from the bottom. I don’t know why. I just felt that I should. Whatever was left unsaid now would stay that way and I’d stay my way. I think he knew where I stood and none of them were going to push it. They weren’t stupid.

        Before I got to the door, he said my name and I turned around. “Yeah?” I asked, snappier than I’d meant to, probably the drinks.

        He shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, and for a moment he looked much younger, like he used to look, way back when.

        “Yeah,” I said with a flick of my head. “Same to you.”