On the turning away

In this sleepy old university town, there was not much by way of gainful employment outside of academia. Somehow, Steven James had always made a living, as a mechanic by day and a barman by night. Sleeping was for the dead. 

Twenty-four, with a lean boy-band look, Steven found his smile was a lucky charm. Girls were drawn to him, guys were dazzled by his gung-ho outlook on life, little old ladies thought he was a sweet young man. He took care of his younger brother, Davey, like a father, despite the mere five years difference in age. He had no choice really. 

When Steven was ten years old, their mother died from cancer. Their father never recovered. A heartbroken man thrown into the chaos of raising two boys who had lost the anchor of their lives and were flailing in the wind with aggression and anger at the injustice of it all. Mr James had no family to support him other than a spinster sister, who lived ten miles away but made the trip every Sunday to see her unruly nephews. She was not keen on children or marriage. She barely knew her sister-in-law, not out of spite. She just preferred her own company and could not be bothered to step outside of her comfort zone, which was the world of first edition antique books.

Mr James’s job demanded all of his time and he had to travel for several days each month. Next door lived a kind lady who did not have children of her own but did have a husband with a wandering eye and a very intimate relationship with Jack Daniels. For a reasonable fee, she was happy to step-in and see that the boys were fed, and their laundry was done. Knowing that, Mr James never fretted about leaving town. He called every evening at eight o’clock from whatever shabby roadside motel was his abode for the night. 

As grateful as Steven was for having their lovely neighbour help out, and their cranky aunt paying a weekly visit to inspect them, as if they were crumbling books to be restored, he never wanted to be reliant upon them in Mr James’s absence. So, he became the de facto man of the house and practically raised his brother. He even quit school at sixteen and became an apprentice with the mechanic up the road - a scrawny weed-head with a tattoo of a skull that had red eyes and a dagger impaling it. 

All went well until, at the age of forty-eight, Mr James succumbed to a debilitating bout of depression on one his business trips and overdosed on sleeping pills. By then, Davey was seventeen; had finished secondary school and completely in love with Cecelia Daniels, the prom queen. Even though they were each other’s first love; they had already sworn to each other that they would get married as soon as they finished their studies. Davey was remarkably bright and cruised through the curriculum, getting distinctions across the board and a scholarship to the local university to study business. 

Two years and one week later, everything changed, forever. 

“Geez, bro! You’re bleeding a river. What the hell happened, Steven?”

Steven’s left cheek had a gash, and half his face was ruby red, as was the shoulder part of his, previously white, collar shirt. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just come with me to the bathroom and help me with this, will you?”

Steven kicked the bathroom door open and stood in front of the cabinet mirror. His eyes widened as he saw the damage done. 

“Grab the towel, Davey”

Pulling a body-length navy towel from the rail next to the shower, Davey held it out for his pale-stricken big brother. Steven grabbed it out of Davey’s hand with such force that Davey felt the sting on his fingertips, as the towel ripped across the skin. 

“Ouch! Easy, bro”

“Fuck off, man. My face hurts and I need to get this bleeding to stop now!”

In seconds, the towel pressed against his cheek was soaked. The wound was not closing. He knew he needed stitches. Davey knew it too. 

“You need to get to the hospital, bro. There’s no point messing about. I’ll take you there myself.”

“Grrrr. Dammit! You’re right. You’re right. Grab the keys. Let’s go.”

Twenty minutes later, the brothers were sitting in the waiting room of the Accidents and Emergency unit of the university hospital, waiting to be seen by the night medic on duty. Whilst Steven sat still, holding the soaked towel to his face, Davey looked around the room to gauge the mood of the patients. Already he sensed some people had been waiting too long and their faces were stern with frustration, threatening to boil over into a tantrum at any moment. He did a double-take when he recognised a woman sitting by herself in the far corner, looking very anxious and rubbing the thumb of her left hand along the forefinger of her right hand, over and over again. 

“Mrs Daniels. Mrs Daniels.” Davey was standing almost immediately in front of the frightened woman. Nevertheless, he may as well have been invisible, for she stared right through him. He was unsure in that moment if he should leave her alone and return to accompany Steven or if he should do something more to get her attention. He decided to, very gently, place his hand on her shoulder.

“Mrs Daniels. It’s me Davey James. Cecelia’s boyfriend.”

She moved her head sideways to look at his hand on her shoulder. Her eyes were moving erratically, and her head twitched slightly. She followed the hand slowly upwards to meet the face. It was only a few seconds, but Davey felt it was the most awkward few seconds of his life. Her terror was transferring to him. He was rooted to the floor, even though he wanted to flee from those wild eyes. 

“Davey James. I’m so glad you’re here. Thank you”

“Mrs Daniels,” his mouth was so dry that the words were barely audible, “are you okay? Did something happen to you?”

“She, she didn’t call you?”

“Who, Mrs Daniels? Cecelia? No. Why? Has something happened to her?”

“Oh yes. Something has happened to her, Davey. Something awful.”

Mrs Daniels looked down at her feet and continued to rub her right forefinger with her left thumb. Her shoulders slumped and her back curved like a capital C, making it appear as though she was going to fall off her chair. Davey’s feet snapped off the sticky vinyl floor, allowing him to jump forward and prop Mrs Daniels up. 

“Mrs Daniels, hang-on. I’m going to get someone to help you.” 

It took Davey five minutes just to get a staff member to stop and listen to him. It took another five minutes for a young medic to arrive and attend to Mrs Daniels. By then, Mrs Daniels looked even worse. She was helped through the door that led to the treatment booths and Davey went over to the reception desk.

The reception was actually a hole in a wall, covered by a Perspex screen. On the other side, there was a desk with two computer monitors and two ladies in their early twenties typing away intently. He cleared his throat to get their attention. The one with a beauty spot just above her lip, curly blonde hair and tortoiseshell glasses looked up and gave a smile as fake as a three-dollar bill.

“How can I help you, sir?”

“Sorry to bother you. I’ve just seen my girlfriend’s mother in the waiting room. She says her daughter’s here, being treated. Her name is Cecelia Daniels. Can you tell me what number booth she’s in? I’d like to see her.”

“No, I cannot divulge that information, sir. You need to be an immediate family member.”

“Ok. Could you at least tell me what happened?”

“I most definitely cannot. You will simply have to wait until they come out of treatment. You’ll see they come out by the same doors they go in.”

Dejected, Davey knew it was no use pushing his luck. “Thanks anyway”.

As he approached Steven, he heard his brother’s name being called. Steven answered and tried getting up, but he was feeling faint. Davey grabbed Steven’s arm and wrapped it around his own shoulder then lifted his brother. It reminded him of a song their late father used to play regularly. Something about a brother not being heavy. He could never understand what the singer was trying to say, but it made sense to him now.

As the boys hobbled along the long hallway, lined on either side with booths screened-off by ugly green curtains, Davey could not help hoping that he would hear Cecelia’s voice. She was here somewhere, so close. She was hurting and he desperately wanted to comfort her. Not knowing what had happened was becoming a knot that was gnawing its way through his gut. 

The doctor, who was young enough to be a drinking buddy of Steven’s, patted the treatment table. “Here we go, Mr James. Let’s put that towel aside and have a good look at the problem”

He let out a whistle. “My, my. That is a nasty cut you got there. We’re going to have to stitch you up. Have you had stitches before?”

“A few times. You know how it is, accidents. This punk here gave me a few of them.”

The doctor looked at Davey. “I see a resemblance there. Brothers?”

Davey laughed, surprising himself given the tension that hung in every particle of air in this place. 

“Listen,” the doctor motioned with a nod towards the door, “you’re better off in the waiting room while I sought out your brother here. We won’t be long.”

Davey hesitated until Steven reassured him by miming the words “It’s ok”. 

Back in the waiting room, Davey felt at a loose end. So, he grabbed a cup of coffee from the vending machine in the corner and sat in the empty chair next to it. He could see the door leading to the treatment booths opening and closing as often as that of a saloon in an old western movie. He stared at the flapping door, willing Cecelia to make an appearance. Time crawled on by, each second making the air in the room feel denser. Out of that fog appeared two police officers walking at a brisk pace and approaching him. They came to an abrupt halt one foot away from his chair. He nearly dropped his steaming cup at the invasion of his space. 

“Mr James?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“I’m PC Collins and this is PC Evans. Please could you accompany us to a more private area. We would like to ask you some questions, sir.”

“I’m waiting for my brother. If he comes out and I’m not here, he’s going to be a bit confused, especially in the state he’s in tonight.”

“Your brother? Are you Steven James?”

“No. I’m Davey. Steven’s inside getting stitches to his face. Why? What’s this all about?”

“Sir, if you don’t mind, follow us. There’s a room for police business that is just a few doors down the hall. It won’t take more than a couple of minutes of your time.”

The room was pokey with sandy coloured walls, a square wooden table that left little room for the chairs tucked beneath each side to be pulled out. Nevertheless, the three men squeezed in without complaint. 

“Davey. May we call you, Davey. It’ll be easier given that we are talking about two Mr James here.”

Davey nodded his consent and felt this was all too surreal. The whole evening so far was turning into a sour tasting episode of a soon-to-be cancelled TV drama. 

“Davey, what you can you tell us about how Steven cut his face?”

“Nothing. He came home, asked me for help and I drove him here. It all happened so fast that he didn’t even get to tell me how he got the cut.

Don’t tell me he got into a fight?”

“Davey, do you know a Cecelia Daniels?”

“Of course. She’s my girlfriend. It’s funny you should ask. She’s here as well. I saw her mother, earlier. She looked terrible. So bad, in fact, that I got a doctor to check on her. They took her inside too. 

Would you mind telling me what’s going?”

“Davey, Cecelia was attacked and badly injured. She was brought in by two joggers who found her by the rubbish area of a bar called The Broken Anchor.”

“That’s where Steven goes for a drink after his day job and he’s the barman there on week nights.” 

PC Collins looked straight at Davey and waited for the penny to drop. He reckoned the kid was bright enough to add two and two. 

“Ah. Shit! You’re telling me my brother had something to do with the attack on Cecelia?”

“It’s a line of enquiry that we are pursuing, yes.”

“There’s got to be a reasonable explanation. Why don’t I show you where he is right now and you can ask him.”

Just as they exited the tiny room, Steven appeared in the waiting room, a bit agitated and about to berate Davey for his momentary absence, when he saw the two police officers behind his brother. Davey noticed the look of resignation on Steven’s face. He was expecting this moment.

“What the hell have you done, bro?”

“Take it easy, Davey. I saw Cecelia at the bar earlier, celebrating with her friends. They took off and she stayed behind and came over to talk to me. Look, you’re not going to like this. She came on to me and I’d had a few myself. We went outside and I had a smoke round the back by the bins. She was a bit unsteady on her feet and leaning on me. We weren’t thinking straight and the fooling around got heavy. Next thing I know, she slashed me with a broken bottle.”

“She wouldn’t do a thing like that without a reason, bro.” Davey’s hands were clenched into fists and his breathing was increasing rapidly. He was holding back on account of who was standing next to him. “Why is she here?”

“I don’t know, Davey. I just ran home”

“Why not run inside to the bar? You know where the first aid kit is. You could have asked Jacko to help you. You’re like a son to him. He’d have brought you in here two seconds flat. This isn’t adding up, bro. I’m going to ask you again. Why is Cecelia here?” 

Davey’s stare could have bored a hole into Steven’s skull. Steven looked down at Davey’s shoes then up to the side, avoiding eye contact with Davey.

“Like I said, the fooling around just went a bit too far.”

PC Collins stepped forward in-between the James brothers. PC Evans went behind Steven and grabbed both of his hands.

“Steven James, I am arresting you on suspicion of rape…”

“Rape? What? You raped her?” 

Steven’s hands were put into handcuffs and he hung his head, away from Davey’s face, red with rage. To Davey, this amounted to an admission of guilt, which triggered the gates open for Davey to lunge forward and plant a solid fist into Steven’s freshly stitched cheek. But PC Collins was a big man and used to keeping violence at bay. Like a footballer playing defence, the police officer blocked Davey’s path and pushed him back, while Davey screamed, and Steven sobbed. PC Evans held Steven up for a second then dragged him towards the exit of the Accidents and Emergency room. 

Davey turned away from the scene, nineteen years of living rushed through his mind. He and his brother were a force of nature, bonded like an electron to a proton. Steven took care of Davey whilst he tried to understand the void left behind by his mother’s passing; then again when he struggled to come to terms with his father’s decision to take his own life. His daily needs were always taken care of by Steven, so that he could focus on being his best.

That night, Davey never got to see Cecelia. Her father had arrived about an hour after Steven was taken away. He had seen Davey waiting and promised to come out with an update. When he did, it was to tell Davey that it was best he went home. Davey called on the Daniels every day for a week until, eventually, her father met him at the door and told him Cecelia could not handle ever seeing him again. He and Steven bore a strong physical resemblance that would always remind her of her rapist.

Davey saw Cecelia briefly from the back of a court room at Steven’s trial eighteen months later. Out of respect for her wishes, Davey made sure Cecelia did not see him. Steven was sentenced to five years, but he came out after having served four years, due to ‘good behaviour’.

The moment Davey turned away from Steven in the Accident and Emergency waiting room, he became dependent on no one. No brother of his could ever violate a woman, let alone the woman he loved. No brother of his could ever hurt someone as much as Steven had hurt Cecelia and him. No brother. He did not have a brother.