Brother's Keeper

“Please, look after your brother.  I know that you two have had your differences and that you resent him.” My mother said as she lay in her bed in hospice as her life slowly drained from her.  

“Mother, I do not resent him.” I felt ashamed.  How could she think such a thing about me and my brother Devin.

“Vernon, I am depending on you to be your brother’s keeper.” She begged.  I saw in her face the pain was again becoming unbearable, so there would be no further discussion. I did not resent my brother, I feared him.  

He was a doctor and had earned his degree on what one would call the white knuckle ride. It was  through his hard work and extraordinary effort, he became a doctor of philosophy speaking in a language I cannot understand, but I would smile and nod whenever he spoke.  

The light in her eyes was slowly draining away with lymphoma that is eating her from the inside out.  Yesterday, I returned her library books.  She had about a dozen, but she will never be able to read them, ever again. I sat in the car once I had returned them and had myself a good cry.  She loved to read.  She would read about ten or twelve books a week, but no longer. 

Devin Alston, my brother was one of the most intelligent people I have ever met.  He was not naturally gifted, however, as he struggled to get up that mountain reading Voltaire for fun and Hobbs to enhance his dinner conversation.  I was, on the other hand, bewildered by the words that came out of his mouth.  His contempt for those who did not occupy the lofty mountain he now resided on where Plato and Aristotle once held court, seemed to be a cold and lonely place to me. He did not seem to mind and when the psychologist had him hospitalized, he was not in the least bothered by this setback as he called it. He wrote a dissertation on the “Treatise of Impending Madness.”  The document was never published as many felt it was nothing more than gibberish.  

It was he who held my poor mother’s hand in her final hours on earth, telling her that she was a good mother.  She would shed her final tear as he spoke. His words whispered to him by one of the nuns in the hospice.  

Her funeral was a small family affair minus my father who had passed away years early from a congenital heart disease. We sat together, the three of us, brothers who lived such separate lives in different parts of the country.  Devin remained quiet and somber, his thinning blonde hair pointed in such a way it appeared as a single horn, his sharp serious features only emphasized his single mindedness. Rodney, the youngest brother, worked as a bartender and even in this somber time could not resist cracking jokes to keep the mood light, but I could tell by the semi-sneer on Devin’s face, he was not in any kind of a jovial mood.  Finally he glared at Rodney, “We have just laid mother in her grave, but you cannot resist telling jokes as if this was a party.” 

Immediately Rodney blew air through his cheeks and apologized.  Later he caught me at the buffet line.  He was still seething, “Devin needs to learn how to lighten up.”

“You know how he is.” I shook my head.

“He’s been hospitalized.” Rodney shrugged.

“Schizo-affective.” I repeated the diagnosis.

“He’s got some personality quirks, too.” He grumbled picking out some mashed potatoes.

“I think we all do.  It’s one thing we Alston brothers have in common.” I chuckled.

“C’mon Vern.” He smacked me on the shoulder.

“Look after Devin, Vernon.” She said when she was able to get out of bed for her walkabout as the nurses called it.

“Mom, Devin doesn’t even like me.” I sighed.

“Don’t shut him out.  He’s all alone.” She shuffled holding the nurse’s arm.

“He does not enjoy my company.”  I shook my head.

“Says who?” Her New York accent became quite apparent.

“He did.” I answered.

“You have to be patient.” She sat on the edge of her bed.

“I was.  Once.” I could feel a catch in my throat.

Her name was Suzie Quantrell and she was beautiful in her prom dress, her hair beehive on top of her head, her plunging neckline, her aqua bows, three of them around her svelte waist. Mom had Devin pose with her in front of the paneled wall dad had helped his brother put in ten years before, but it was the perfect backdrop.

“I you saw looking at her.” Devin said, pulling me aside.

“Are you serious?  She’s seven years younger than me.” I shook my head.

“Doesn’t matter. I know what a perv you are at times.” He stuck his finger in my chest.

“You are nuts.” I pulled away.

“Just keep your distance Vern.” He warned me like he was some big shot or something.

Something happened to him when he was six years old that she always felt guilty about, but I never quite found out what it was.  Rodney was still in diapers, but he said it had something to do with a fall or something like that. Who knows.  Even dad had no idea, but he was gone by the end of the year. All I remember was that he used it to control her.  One peep, one cry and she would come running.  Now she was asking me to take her place.  Asking me to come running.   I was living in California doing odd jobs and hanging out at the beaches on the weekends while Rodney was tending bars near Charles River in Boston. Devin meanwhile had set himself up in some office in Chicago.  He had some live-in girlfriend named Barb.  I met Barb when I visited him a couple years ago.  She was thin and I knew instantly she was just a cokehead who pretended to understand him when he ranted and raved.  She had smoky eyes and a constant nasal drip. 

“You keep your hands off of her.” He poked me in the chest with the hamburger tongs.

“No, I don’t think you have a lot to worry about, bro.” I snapped.

“Are you saying she’s not good enough for you?” He poked me again, harder.

“All I am saying is you have nothing to worry about.” I took a step back, but I could see the rage flashing in his steely blue eyes.

“Just steer clear.” He huffed as he went back to tending to the burgers on the grill.

“He can be really mean.” Barb whispered to me when Devin wasn’t looking.  It seemed to me that she was being held hostage.  There are times when you have to follow your gut instincts. 

Three months after mom’s funeral, I got this special package delivered to my bungalow near San Luis Obispo.  When I open it this fifty plus page document comes sliding out entitled “Treatise on Behavioral Norms.”  I did not have to think twice to know it was from Devin.  Normally I would put it straight to the trash, but in the opening sentence, he had posed the questions if murder was ever justified.  Scanning it, I had no doubt that he was talking about Barb in language so stilted and pointed, I knew I had to do something. 

I called Rodney, but he did not seem to think this was a serious threat.

“You know how he is, kiddo.” I could hear the clinking of glass in the background.

“What if he’s serious?” I asked looking out the window as the surf came up to meet the wind.  

“He’s been with Barb for what?  Six?  Seven years?” Rodney asked.

“You know he has a hair trigger though.” I pointed out.

“Whatcha gonna do?” He asked and I could hear other voices in the background.

“I should go to Chicago.” I answered.

“And do what? You know as soon as you get there, he’s going to be on his best behavior.” He snorted.

“What if I call for a wellness check?” 

“Sure, sure, you could do that, but you know how he is about his mental health issues.” Rodney reminded me.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” He asked me when I went visit him in the psychiatric hospital.

“Well you are here.” I pointed to the other zombies doing the thorazine shuffle in the ward. 

“C’mon, do you or don’t you?” He glared at me. In his cold stare, I saw things that made my skin crawl for that moment in time.

“I think you need to take your meds.” I put my hands to my face.

“Meds? Ha!” He laughed, “The stuff is poison.”

“No it’s not, Dev.  It keeps you functioning.” I replied, but once again I got a look that made me uneasy.

“You think they give a crap about me?  Do you?” I could hear the anger in his voice. 

“I think they want you to get well.” I insisted.

“And what does that mean, bro?” Saliva shot out of his mouth as he spoke. “It means they want to control my mind.  It means they want me to be their slave.  You think the Thirteenth amendment ended slavery? Look around you.  Slaves.  All of us.  They want to control us so they invent these pharmaceuticals.” 

“If you don’t take the meds, they won’t let you go.” I bowed my head, because I could no longer look at him.

“They ain’t gonna let me go.  I’m onto them.  I know their game.  I am as smart as they are and I am the enemy.” He jabbed his finger at me. A couple of the white coats began to draw near.  “I’m nothing but a specimen in a cage.”

“He’s crazy you know.” Barb told me when we were alone on his patio.  He was on the bed taking a nap.

“Crazy how?” I asked in a hushed voice, because I know he would listen in when we least expected it.

“He killed the neighbor’s dog.” She put her hand on my wrist.

“He what?”

“He fed him poisoned meat.  It was just a yappy little thing, but it was lying in the yard with his tongue sticking out.  The owner cried and cried. It was horrible.” She paused, “And I started to figure, what if he starts doing that to me.”

“Poison you?” 

“Sure, sure.” Her eyes went wide, “What would stop him?”

“He loves you.” I shook my head.

“What the hell does that mean to him?” She grabbed my arm again, but this time she squeezed in desperation. “He wouldn’t think twice about it.”

“Don’t say that.” I insisted.

“Why not?”

“Then pack and leave.” I answered.

“He’d find me and then he’d kill me for sure.  Oh Vern, I am so scared.” Looking into her eyes, I did not doubt a bit of it. 

“Mom what happened when he was six?” I asked when I was still in high school.

“What do you mean, Vern hon?” She turned, but her smile vanished.

“When he was six.  There were woods in the back.  You know before the housing development was put in.” I pointed to where all of the new houses sat in a neat suburban row. 

“Your brother liked to go on adventures back there.” She began to slice the roast beef we were having for dinner.

“What kind of adventures?” I asked.  The knife stroke became more robotic and quicker.

“You know adventures.  Boy adventured.” She sneered.

I saw the rabbit or rabbits.  They weren’t wild.  We had a pen where we kept two male rabbits, but when I walked back there among the poplar trees that were there before the houses were.  They were cut in half and laid out as prescribed by the Old Testament.  It was just after he started to go to Sunday School.  \

“What are you looking at?” He caught me in his special place.

“Nothing.” I shrugged.

“You aren’t supposed to be here.” His voice was menacing and I knew he had his hand on his pocketknife he kept in constantly in  his pocket. 

“I’m leaving.” I started to leave the copse of trees.   

“Don’t come back, either.” He warned me.

Flying into O’Hare was always trying for me as I did not like crowds and I can’t remember a time when it wasn’t jammed with people.  I felt I had no choice.  I had promised my mother and Devin called me to tell me that Barb had left him.  He sounded truly despondent, so I told him I’d come and stay for a couple weeks.  Business at the Shack where I worked had been slow since it was considered the winter following the holidays.  The Shack was the best place to buy beach bum gear and if there was one thing I was an expert at that was being a beach bum.  On my trip I wore a brand new pair of jeans and a Hawaiian shirt.  He was waiting at the gate for me.

“I can see you are dressed for a board meeting.” It was the closest he would come to humor.

“Good to see you, too.” I ignored his remark, “So what happened?”

“We had a disconnect.” He said as we moved to the luggage rack which had just started spitting out bags from the carousel. 

“Disconnect?” I had never heard that used to describe a breakup, especially from a long time relationship as theirs.

“Yes, she no longer saw things as I did anymore.” He sighed.

“I see.” I pulled off my suit bag from the revolving carousel. 

He spoke in superlatives on the half hour ride home to his townhouse in a gated community.

The smell.  It hit me as soon as I walked in the door.  Musty and metallic were the only words I could use to describe it.  This bothered me since he was such a meticulous man, everything in its place and a place for everything.

The back screen door was open and just beyond the patio was a garden now in a winter slumber and under a few inches of snow. I had never known Devin to be interested in gardening, but then I assumed it was Barb’s before she left.

“We grew our own food from our small garden.” Devin smiled as he poured us each a glass or bourbon.

“This is some very good stuff.” I took a sip.

“Yes, it’s imported.” He swished the brown liquid around in his snifter. 

“So tell me what happened?” I asked, leaning against the bar.

“Told you, we had a disconnect.” He sighed.

“Where did she go?” 

“I haven’t the foggiest.” He sniffed after downing the rest of his bourbon. 

“You do know mom asked me to keep an eye on you.” I glanced at him.

“Mom...yeah.  I could hear her ask.” He chuckled, “But let’s face it, you and I were never meant to be close.”

“Why do you suppose that is?” I arched an eyebrow. 

“We are as different as oil and water.” He put his elbows on the bar. 

The smell was making me woozy.

It was thick, pungent.

“It’s okay.  I don’t need you to be keeping an eye on me.” He snorted.

“Why did you call me?” I asked, feeling that the smell wafting in the air had a lot to do with it.

“Feeling lonely.  We were together a long time.” He smiled, but there was no humor in his facial gesture.  He tilted his head like a raptor just before swooping down on a defenseless mouse or rabbit.

“Okay, I’ve got to ask...what is that smell?” I held up my hand. 

“Wow, it took you this long to notice?” His smile slipped to a grimace.

“Well it is rather obvious.” I nodded.

He walked back to near the screen door and flicked on a light.  The entire garden was now bathed in light.  

“Barb said I was crazy.” He said calmly.

“Why?” I asked, but it was as if he did not hear my question.

“Garden needed fertilizer.” He opened the screen and I followed him out to the patio.  It was cold, but even the frosty air could not hide the stench.  “Next year the cucumbers and tomatoes should be first rate.  

When I looked down at my feet, I could not believe the carnage I was standing in.  There was an arm laying in the snow disconnected from the body where it had once been attached. I knew in an instant who that dismembered arm had once belonged to.

I heard a laugh.

I knew where that had come from as well.

I heard a gunshot.

Devin turned completely around.

A second gunshot brought him to his knees.

Blood began to trickle down from his twisted grin, his teeth now tinted red.

“You were supposed to be your brother’s keeper.” His head lolled and then he fell face first into the snow.  

Two policemen came stumbling through the snow.

“Hands where we can see them.” One of them yelled.  Slowly I put my hands up where they could see them as requested.

“We found her.” One of the policemen called over his shoulder to his partner when he got close to where I was standing.

“I will let them know.” The other policeman pulled out his radio.

“Who are you?” Asked the policemen as he rose to his feet.

“I am his brother.” I bowed my head suddenly filled with shame.