Authors: Jason Austin
“
Cass,
get away from the door!” a voice shouted from behind the woman.
Both she and Xavier looked over to see a man in a dress shirt and
trousers zipping his fly. He'd been standing over the toilet, in
midstream, when the doorbell chimed and
figured
his wife, trusting as she was, would never be crazy enough to answer
it alone at this time of night.
Then
he remembered just who it was he was married to. He peered at Xavier
from across the room. “Oh my god.”
Bennet
Hawkins had yet to take his eyes off of his brother. He stared down
into the top of Xavier's head, with an icy glare he hoped very much
the asshole could feel. Xavier was seated at the small round
breakfast table in the gourmet kitchen, opposite Bennet's wife
Cassandra. The woman Xavier had brought with him was seated directly
behind Xavier, diligently avoiding eye contact with her hosts. She
seemed to almost be using Xavier as cover from the facial slings and
arrows the doctor was firing their way. It made her feel every bit
the criminal she'd been quasi-accused of being. She sat very still,
clenching a cup of hot herbal tea that Cassandra was generous enough
to provide. Her hands would remain in open view. She would not say or
do anything that would evoke sudden suspicion.
Xavier
was hunched over in his chair, staring at the floor. He too held a
teacup, but wished for something stronger. Gin and tonic or Hennessy.
He saw that Benny was still a bit peeved with his wife. Cassandra had
opened the door to complete strangers in the middle of the night.
That
was just a little
too
generous. And it didn't matter that she'd done it because she'd seen
a battered resemblance of her husband's face in the security camera's
viewer. Bennet Hawkins was four years Xavier’s junior, but was
a replay of his brother’s typical, mulatto, olive, skin and had
the same rich blackness of hair, only curlier. An even more curious
difference was that Benny had an eminently more mature aura that
translated through his face. By the time he was sixteen he could have
gotten into any bar in the country with little risk of being scanned.
“
What
do you want?” Benny asked flat out.
“
I
would’ve thought my desperate need for a shower would be
obvious,” Xavier answered.
“
It
is. But why did you come
here
,
Clyde? What were you expecting me to do?”
“
Clyde?”
Glenda asked with a grimace.
“
It’s
my middle name,” Xavier answered. It was way easier to answer
her
embarrassing questions than
Benny's. Although, Xavier was dead serious about the shower being
among the things he needed. Food, money, and maybe just a few hours
of bed-rest rounded out the list.
“
You
thought good ol’ forgiving Benny would just break his back to
help you, no matter what. Really?”
Again,
Xavier had no answer. He predicted a cold shoulder, but, sure as
hell, not Benny being married.
Momma
never mentioned a wife.
God, had it truly been that long
since he'd talked to his own mother? Had he really been
that
invisible?
“
You're
like a priceless antique, Clyde; you never change.”
“
Watch
yourself,” Xavier said. “That almost sounded like a
compliment.”
“
You’re
pathetic,” Benny snarled. “The only thing that surprises
me is that you've apparently done worse than I thought. I should’ve
known my expectations were too high.”
Xavier
stared down again, this time into his tea, his morphing likeness
reflecting up at him. How much verbal abuse bought the few things he
was asking for? Furthermore, why should he care? Damn it, two days
ago he was ready to blow his brains out; how could he have any
self-respect left to damage?
I guess it could be worse
, he
thought. Benny was
riled
about seeing Xavier, but not
curious
. Not really suspicious
about his intrusion. No webscreens or televisions played anywhere
within earshot. It was quite possible that Benny and his wife hadn't
heard of the motel shootings yet and if they had, the lack of details
would play in Xavier's favor. But how much time did they have?
“
What
do you want me to say,” Xavier asked moaning, “that I was
a lousy brother?”
“
Yeah,”
Benny spat. “I want you to say you were lousy a brother!”
“
I
was a lousy brother, okay!”
“
No!
Not okay! Not good enough!”
“
Do
we have to do this, now, for Chrissakes?”
“
You
came here not expecting to do it? I don't how I should take that,
Clyde! Did you really think I'd be that spineless?”
“
I
never thought you were spineless!”
“Like
hell!”
Xavier
shot to his feet. “God, Benny...okay, I'm a major screw up! I
let you down! I used you, I pushed you around and treated you like
dirt! I embarrassed you in front of your friends, I humiliated you in
front of
my
friends! I never treated you like a brother. You were something that
was just...in the way, like a piece of broken furniture. I never
wanted you around.” Xavier slowed to catch his breath.
Admitting the crimes he'd committed against his brother out loud was
unexpectedly painful.
He
had put Benny through a lot over the years: bullying him, stealing
from him, and generally demeaning his existence in that lovingly
special way so many older brothers tend to do. Who knows why? He had
given up on the psychology of it years ago.
As he looked into Benny's eyes it all came back to him.
“
I
hurt
you,”
Xavier said. He got a king-sized knot in his stomach and collapsed
back into his chair.
“
I
hurt a lot of people.”
Benny
folded his arms and let his back hit the wall. He was stumped. Shit,
the asshole wasn't actually supposed to
admit
to being an asshole
. He was supposed to hem and haw and
skirt the real issues till Benny had had enough and threw him out on
his soiled undeserving comeuppance.
Which
he could still do.
“
So
tell me, Clyde,” Benny said smugly. “Why should I lift so
much as a goddamn finger to help you?”
Xavier
glanced over at Glenda and then conscientiously slid his cup onto the
table. He stood up, taking his brother's evil eye head on. “Because
it’s who you are,” he answered.
Benny’s
eyes narrowed, sharpening their aim.
“
It’s
who you’ve always been. Despite that, coming to you about
anything has never been easy for me. I never knew when you were going
to wise up and decide not to take any more of my shit. I suppose it
would be rather poetic, if not fitting, if that time were right now.
God knows I’d have it coming, right?”
Benny
audaciously closed the gap between them until he could see the map of
human wreckage etched out in his brother’s handicapped face.
“God knows,” he said frostily.
Xavier
refused to budge. He squared his chest and respected his brother's
gaze. “There is
one
thing that’s different from all the other times though, Benny.”
Benny’s
head cuddled into an imaginary pillow of assurance.
“
This
time it's not just about me.”
The
doctor glanced in Glenda's direction.
He
approached her, looking humanely concerned for the first time since
they’d arrived. He examined her bandage then regarded her
quietly. The woman was attractive, despite being noticeably
disheveled. She'd gone a day or two without a change of clothes or
makeup and lack of sleep was apparent. To say she was Clyde's wild
card wasn't enough. She was new to this somehow. The doctor was sure
that, whatever her situation, she had never expected to be
gallivanting around in the wee hours of the morning with some drunken
loser on his last legs.
“
What's
your name?” the doctor asked Glenda.
“
Hannah,”
Xavier answered.
Benny
threw a brow high and wide at his brother.
Xavier
knew that he and Glenda would have to keep certain details under
wraps to keep things from getting too sticky if the police ever
identified him. But that didn't mean Glenda having to force their
lies through her own teeth.
“
I
don't know what kind of trouble you've gotten yourself into, but it's
not staying here,” Benny said sternly. “I've got an exam
room downstairs. I'll check you both out...then you leave.”
Xavier
nodded. “
Thank you,”
he said.
The
doctor offered Glenda a hand up then led her away in the direction of
his in-home office. Once they were gone, Xavier pocketed his hands
and smiled crookedly at the only woman left in the room. He'd felt a
disturbance from Cassandra Hawkins's direction when Benny told them
they couldn't stay. She'd wanted to say something, but stifled it.
Cassandra had watched, intently, her husband chain himself up in his
own arms as he purposely stood over his brother, curdling his lip in
utter antipathy. She'd seen that look only once or twice since she’d
known Bennet. She did not like it. She was glad, to see the air of
disfavor finally thin out a bit...despite it being a simple matter of
proximity.
“
I’m
sorry about...all this,” Xavier said languidly. “He has
every right to hate me.”
“
So
I’ve heard,” Cassandra said, her composure unwavering.
“
I
suppose he’s told you a lot about me.”
“
It
seems now, that he hasn't told me much at all.”
“
It
makes sense. He'd prefer to keep his mouth shut than say something
unflattering or make up stories...even about me.”
“
He
would at that.”
Xavier
drifted a few paces, like a dollar bill along a windy sidewalk. He
pretended not to notice Cassandra’s sagacious surveillance as
he stepped into the living room. Not that it made him uncomfortable—
like a security camera or a beat cop who’d picked up his scent.
It was more like a mother watching her child on the playground. Any
minute she might say, “Oh honey, be careful. Don’t hurt
yourself.” He liked that vibe. It was a rare one, and could be
incredibly addictive. Xavier couldn't help but notice how hot
Cassandra was. Hot in that naughty-nurse kind of way, like her bosom
was designed for a baby boy during the day and a grown man at night.
She looked like an amalgam of all the sexy, next door moms Xavier
used to get boners for when he was going through puberty. Best of
all, Cassandra was somewhat on the cushiony side, carrying her excess
in the places that turned the hourglass into God's greatest invention
ever. And Xavier had a noted
thing
for fleshy chicks.
Inside
the cozy milieu of the oversized living room, Xavier wobbled on his
feet as he admired the early American décor that heralded his
sister-in-law’s homemaking wizardry. The ceiling over the
living area was depressed a couple of feet in relationship to the
rest of the house; kind of like the room was giving him a warm hug.
Various photographs and artwork ornamented the bright lavender walls
and Benny’s diploma from Central State along with his medical
degree hung to the far left. In front of Xavier was a large soapstone
central fireplace that often hosted quiet nights of good conversation
and romantic interludes for the doctor and his wife. A brightly
lacquered redwood mantle encircled it at eye level. In the center of
the mantle sat a small piece of uniquely crafted pottery attached to
a wooden base with an engraved brass stamp. Xavier was automatically
drawn to it. As he moved closer, his eyes began to focus on the
stamp, slowly aligning the words of the engraving.
He
blinked. He had to be reading it wrong. Or hallucinating?
It
had happened before, when he experimented with H or was just so drunk
the only things he could see were what his own head could fancy. His
eyes puddled quickly and he lost his breath as his heart insisted on
pounding its way out through his chest. His knuckles popped as his
fists clenched and long-neglected fingernails gored his palms. He
tried wiping his eyes over and over again, yet the bitterly pungent
writing steadfastly refused to change: THE REMAINS OF MADELINE
JANETTE HAWKINS, BELOVED MOTHER.
“
I
thought you already knew,” Benny said. He had entered the room
outside Xavier’s attention. Glenda needed to pay a bathroom
visit before the exam and he was awaiting her.
Xavier
turned, practically assaulting his brother with grief.
“
I
thought that’s why you were here, at first. When you didn’t
say anything, I assumed you just didn’t want to bring it up.”
“
Wh...wh...what
happened?” Xavier asked.
“
It
was a heart attack; undiagnosed arrhythmia.” Benny talked
straight, but watched his brother with pointed eyes, as if waiting
for the timer to reach zero. “She got up one morning, went
outside to get her mail and just...collapsed. She’d lost too
much oxygen by the time help arrived. She hung on for a week. Then
she...” He let it go.