“Why don’t you just hire someone to cart everything away?” He tapped the cigarette on the edge of the lid.
“Because … that’s not the way it’s done.” I fanned away the smoke and leaned toward him. “Look, Danny, I need your help. Do it for me, okay? It wouldn’t be for Daddy. It’s for me. It’ll be a massive job for me to handle on my own.”
He stood up and squashed out the cigarette in the sink, running the water for a moment. I knew I’d gotten inside him by making the request more about me than about our father.
“This is so messed up,” he said.
“What is?”
“Everything.”
I tried to imagine what it was like inside my brother’s head. In one of his more vulnerable moments, he’d told me that he always felt afraid. He reacted to every loud sound as though he was under attack. Nightmares put him back in Iraq, where he’d done things he refused to tell me about. You’d never look at me the same way if I told you. Daddy had tried to be there for him, but there was an animosity Danny felt toward my father that I’d never understood. Daddy finally gave up on him and I couldn’t really blame him. But I wouldn’t give up. It was that vulnerable Danny I tried to remember when he was being belligerent.
“Do you love me?” I asked now.
He raised his head sharply. “Of course,” he said, and his shoulders suddenly slumped as though that admission had defeated him. He sighed as he turned to face me. “What would I need to do?” He suddenly sounded like a little boy, wanting to please me, yet afraid of my answer.
“Let me talk to the lawyer tomorrow and then figure out exactly what we need to do.” We. I’d make this about both of us. “How about I get you a prepaid phone so we can communicate while I’m here?”
He shook his head. “Don’t,” he said, and I wasn’t sure if he meant “don’t get me a phone” or “don’t make one more suggestion or I’ll lose it.” Either way, I thought we’d both had enough of a visit for one day and I stood up.
“You look good, Danny,” I said, getting to my feet. “I love you so much.” I did. He was all the family I had left.
* * *
I made up the double bed in my old bedroom that night. I could have slept in my parents’ much larger room with its queen-sized bed, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. It still felt like their private space to me. I wasn’t ready to invade it.
In the two weeks since I’d split from Bryan, bedtime had become the hardest part of the day for me. That was when we used to talk on the phone to say “good night” and “I love you.” I missed those calls so much. For the first week after the split, I talked to Sherise every night instead of Bryan, and how she’d tolerated my whining and moaning, I didn’t know. Now she was unreachable in Haiti, and I was an orphan.
I was still awake at midnight, staring at the ceiling. I would never sleep. I got up, walked downstairs, and made myself a cup of Sleepytime tea in the microwave. I was carrying it back to the stairs when I spotted my purse on my father’s desk and remembered the purple envelope from the post office box. I took the envelope upstairs with me and climbed back into bed, sipping my tea as I examined the looping handwriting on the purple paper. Fred Marcus. No return address. I hesitated a moment before slitting the envelope open with my finger. The only thing inside was a postcard. On the front was a color photograph of a band. Bluegrass or country, maybe. Two women and two men, all of them carrying stringed instruments. At the bottom of the picture were the words Jasha Trace. The band’s name, I supposed. On the back of the card was a tour schedule, and written where the recipient’s address should go, in that same looping handwriting, Can’t wait to see you! Where should we meet up? xoxo
Damn. Now I felt really terrible. Whoever Fred Marcus was, he wouldn’t get this card because I’d taken it from his post office box. I should have left it there. Maybe even paid to keep his box open for a while.
With a sigh, I leaned over to toss the card and envelope into the trash can next to my night table. I had enough to deal with without taking on the problems of a stranger. Fred Marcus would have to figure this out on his own.