M^6 Chapter 2 - Our Brother's Grim

 

Monday, June 24, 1996

 

Our Brother's Grim

or

The Squinchening

 

                The tall nurse pat me on the head in that vaguely reassuring but ultimately patronizing way adults do when a kid hurts themself.  Did it make everything feel slightly better?  Yes, but that is not the point.  "You're gonna be fine, hon," she told me.  "Your folks just got here, I'm gonna step out and talk to them so we can hurry up and get you home.  If you need anything, or if the hand starts to hurt again, hit the buzzer, we'll come running." 

                I scooched down to press my head into the uncomfortable pillow supporting my neck, "Thanks, Miss Debbie."

                She smiled down at me before turning to leave and gave me a wink.  "Good to see you kids again, let's try not to be patients next time though."  The door closed softly behind her.

                Marlin, looking as tired as I felt, took my hand in hers.  "Don't be weird," I told my sister.  Instead of letting go, I squeezed to make sure she could not pull away.  The drugs Debbie had shot into the bag of saline hanging from a stainless steel hook affixed to my bedframe slow-dripped a cocktail of fluids and industrial strength antibiotics through an IV line inserted into a fat vein in my forearm.  Slowly, so that it felt like a natural progression of the onset of sleep, they took effect. 

                Except, they were not anything at all like Debbie had advertised.  According to her, I should have expected instant unconsciousness, and a complete lack of sensation.  At the moment, I was mildly sleepy, and there was a lingering, dull thrum of pain that slid all the way up to my elbow and back down to my stump with every slow beat of my heart.  Chalk the drugs not working up to a combination of youth, shock, and adrenaline, I guess.

                The good news was that my finger did not hurt.  Which, as it was no longer attached to my body: Duh.  In the context of phantom pain,[1] this was good news.

                We could see the outlines of our parents talking animatedly with Debbie through the closed blinds.  Snatches of conversation would have been helpful, but hospitals seemed to have been designed with soundproof doors.  Dad, obvious as the largest of the three silhouettes, gesticulated wildly.  Mom simply nodding occasionally.  It was impossible to tell if they were angry or sharing some kind of private joke between the three of them. 

                Between the two of us, we had decided, in the hectic minutes after arriving home from the shop, that telling our parents the truth was not in our best interests.  Stupid kid logic, of the type that defies explanation and compels us to lie in the face of a monumental screw-up regardless of its severity in order to delay the eruption of parental ire for a later, yet inevitable, date, was the driving force behind that decision.  That logic also had a hand in the brief showers we took prior to calling 911. 

                Not like there had been an amputation or anything.

                Mom came in holding my chart.  Dad came in wearing a mixture of concern and undisguised relief, which was great because disappointed father was not something I was capable of dealing with tonight.

                Mom bent down briefly to kiss me on the cheek, checked my IV, and finally spoke.  "Marlin, sweetheart," she was looking at Marlin, "why don't you come with me.  I need some help finishing up the discharge paperwork.  Let's let your dad and brother talk."  She kissed me on the forehead again, "I'm glad you're alright.  I love you."

                "I love you too, mom."  My mother was being unerring professional, and altogether way more calm than I would ever expect a mother to be under the circumstances.  It occurred to me in that moment that I had also never seen mom in her work environment.  Mom, until then, had never been anything but my mom, and I had never given her the due she deserved as a nurse.[2]

                Reluctantly, Marlin stood to follow her.  She was noticeably weak on her feet.  With a final hand squeeze, she let go, and walked away.

                Dad smiled weakly, "You missed a step."

                I already had this conversation with the EMTs, so I replied wearily, "I know I know, on ice is not the same as in ice." 

                Without warning, he gently snatched my wrist to inspect my hand. 'What were you thinking?"

                "I just wanted to be like you," I told him in a faux slurred voice and tapped his fake leg with my free hand.  That might have sounded clever, but it took them an hour to get here, so there was plenty of time to come up with witty one-liners.

                "Funny," his tone was sarcastic, but the smile cracking his face was genuine.

                "I thought so.  Besides, how else am I supposed to get a sweet superpower origin story?  It's not like we have Batman money if you get shot in an alleyway.  I'd be destitute."

                He laughed at that, trying not to jostle my too much.  "For every one teenager that gets superpowers from a radioactive boxer, the other six billion just get cancer and die."  Without taking his eyes off my stump, he let real sympathy show through, "How do you feel?"

                "Like I'll never play the guitar."  I was on it!

                He looked suddenly thoughtful, "You know the first thing my buddies did when I woke up after the crash?"  I shook my head, I didn't know.  I couldn't know, dad never spoke about the incident that cost him his leg.  All I knew for certain was that he was shot down and got two medals out of it.[3]  He looked me dead in the eyes, lifted my hand-

                And flicked my bandaged stump.

                "Owyoudickow!" I yelped, and immediately slapped my free hand over my mouth, turning shade of regretful red.

                Before I could apologize, Dad let go of my wrist and started laughing so hard, he was nearly in tears.  "Welcome to the club, boy." 

                Midnight came and went, and as exciting as the whole ordeal began, it was over just as anticlimactically.  Shedding their semi-formal outerwear, the parental units shuffled off their room only after Marlin reassured them that she was perfectly capable of bringing me to bed on her own, thank you. 

                I did not need the help, I think, but took it all the same and leaned against her shoulders as we walked upstairs together.  She shifted her weight at the side of the bed, allowing me to flop onto the welcoming softness.  Too exhausted at this point to tuck myself in, I simply grabbed for the nearest blanket and whipped it over my body. 

                Marlin plopped down next to me, a comforting presence.  "Wanna hear something weird?" she asked, groggily.  The question was rhetorical.  There were no secrets between us.  "I think I felt it when I cut your finger off.  I mean, it felt like I cut mine off, too."

                I rolled over to face her, "I knew it.  You looked like I felt."

                Her eyes were half-lidded.  Sleep began to take her. "Sorry about that, by the way," she tried to tell me, but it came out closer to, “Sorr ou tha, aye way.”

                "Nah," I dismissively flapped my bandaged hand at her, "is kay."  My last words, as I slowly drifted away, were, "You were right, katanas suck."

                I was torn, abruptly, from my restful, dreamless sleep by the patriarchal roar of, "Where are they?" followed immediately by a slamming door and, "I'm gonna murder those little liars!"  Heavy footfalls pounded deliberately up the stairs.  Dad was making the effort to put his fake foot down hard, never a good sign, only stopping on the seventh step as mom's voice, partially obscured by her softness, made it to our ears, "-hospital, you insensitive ass."  I knew without looking that Marlin was awake and listening.  We remained motionless in bed, quiet, trembling, hearts racing from the unexpected wakeup and subsequent shouting directed at us.  "I'll cut off the other 19!"

                "I think," Marlin said in a barely audible whisper, "we may have forgotten something."

                Those same heavy footfalls went back down the stairs, "There was blood EVERYWHERE!  Thousands of dollars in damage.  THOUSANDS!"  he bellowed.  Dad must have been aiming up at our room, taking care to ensure that we heard him because the volume of his voice would alternate between raised voice when making a statement to mom and, well, bellowing.

                "Yep" I agreed.

                There was more muffled argument, punctuated by a profusion of shouted profanity.[4]  We strained to listen, as if catching any of the heated discussion would have helped us mentally prepare for whatever came next.  A loud, "Fine!" caused both of us to twitch.  "I'll be in the car, but I am NOT driving."

                Slam.

                Mom’s lighter footsteps came on, accompanied by the creaking of floorboards as she ascended.  The bedroom door opened, slowly, and before her head poked through, we both closed our eyes and feigned sleep.  "I know you're awake," she told us.  Four set of eyelids opened simultaneously.  She was given our undivided attention.  "Your father is furious, if you couldn't tell.  I am going to calm him down.  When we get back, we are going to have a serious talk."  Mom gave us a look of utter disappointment and blew out a sigh.  "I am very, very upset with the two of you."

                At least we had the decency to look ashamed.  It was particularly stinging coming from our mother.

                "How you feeling boy?" dad asked with a gruff voice, scaring the bejesus out of all three of us.  He had managed to sneak silently back into the house, up the stairs, and behind mom. 

                Hazarding some lightheartedness, I answered, "Like I'll never play the guitar again."

                Still steaming, but not enough to not enjoy solid dad humor, he fought the smile creeping up his face.  "Funny.  Since you screwed up our date last night, we are going to go out and try again.  And, because marriage is full of compromise, I'm not allowed to murder you."

                "When are you coming back?"

                Mom answered before dad could speak up again, "That is none of your concern.  Watch Soren, he needs to be in bed by eight o’clock."

                "What time is it now?"

                "It's after three."  Dad gently put his hand on mom's waist and led her away, "Let's go, darling wife." 

                Before she disappeared from the doorframe, she added, "Clean the house, if you can.  And all of my children better be in one piece when we get back, or I'll sell you to a factory."

                "And feel free to not chop anything else off," dad added.

                Throwing the covers off and sitting up, I said, to no one in particular, "Well, that could have gone worse."

                Even taking into account our past-noon wakeup, late evening came quickly.  Not surprisingly, that time was accompanied by a conspicuous lack of parents.  Dad, while nominally calm, could, given the right circumstances,[5] quite easily fulfill the role of irascible old man.  His temper was only tempered by mom, and then only after a minimum of at least a few hours. 

                Sometimes, mom would purposely provoke his ire just to hurry the whole ordeal along.  Sometimes, mom would poke the bear because she enjoyed being evil.

                When they returned, and they would be back in due course, both would be in markedly better moods.  Dad having blown off steam and mom having gotten her jabs in, the only noticeable difference in their household attitudes would be a conscious shift towards annoyingly affectionate and mushy.  Comfortable love never under any real threat, these displays were always for their amusement at our embarrassment.  They were only ever one of 'those' couples around their kids,[6] and especially around their kids' friends.

                Our parents were, thankfully, predictable, and it was easy to pander to them.

                And pander we must, because sustained good moods were never guaranteed, so it fell to us to make amends in the least subtle ways available to ensure a smooth and peaceful transition towards absolute forgiveness.  With that strategy in mind, Marlin and I set about the house to clean up, with a vengeance, the mess we had now been twice tasked with.

                It was in those hours of housework that a deliberate silence descended.  Neither of us were entirely comfortable acknowledging the fact that my pain pills were making both of us equally hazy, or that even in a different room and out of sight from the other, Marlin would yelp in agony whenever I absent-mindedly rapped my stump against a hard surface.  Any attempt at conversation, as we learned through several false starts, may eventually lead to an exploration of those topics, so we kept to ourselves and away from each other.   

                Only when Soren came home, having been dropped off by his friend's parents, and his bedtime had long passed did we reluctantly break our reticent silence.  "He should have been asleep a while ago," Marlin said, looking up towards the light beaming out of our brother's room. 

                "Let's go check on him," I told her by way of agreement.

                Soren sat, a book under his nose, in the middle of his bed.  It was obvious he was fighting himself to stay awake.

                "You need to go to sleep little man," Marlin's voice was surprisingly gentle.  "You look like you're halfway there already."

                "I don't wanna," came his slightly slurred defiance.

                "Well," she said, moving to sit next to him while I took up a post against the doorframe, "what you don't want is immaterial.  What you need is to close your eyes and be less of a pain."

                Putting the book down near a pillow, he adjusted his body in order to place his tiny head in Marlin's lap after she got settled.  "You're a pain," he shot back sleepily.

                A genuine smile broke across my face at that.  "He's got you there."

                One finger pointed at me, "You shut up.  You," she tousled Soren's hair like only a big sister could, "tell me what's up munchkin.  What's your deal?"   

                Soren's eyes opened fully to give me a sideways look, then he mumbled something out of the corner of his mouth that only Marlin could hear.  "What was that?"  She leaned in close as he tugged at her shoulder to whisper.  His eyes kept darting towards me, embarrassment clear on his tired face.

                Suddenly very self-conscious, "What?" I asked.  An unwelcome sliver of jealousy threaded itself around my heart but was quickly stamped out.  Marlin and I had always been a singular brother-sister sibling team; I just had never given any thought to her having an individual relationship with our younger brother.  Seeing them together as they were was, I am not ashamed to admit, actually heartwarming.

                This caused him to cower a bit, and he let go of Marlin.  "Are you serious?" she asked without any trace of criticism.  He nodded slightly; his eyes fixated on me.  I felt like he was expecting me to do some kind of terrifying magic trick at any moment.  More sternly now, she snapped to get his attention and commanded, "Then tell him yourself.  It's not attached to him, so it's not like he's the one that's going to get you, right?"

                He thought about that with all of earnest contemplation of a world weary eight year old.  "Right," Marlin's reasoning finally edging him towards a reasonable conclusion.  Soren extracted himself from Marlin's lap, scooched over toward me, and gestured for me to come closer.  When I was in range, he grabbed my wrist, looked right at my bandages, and asked, "Where is it?"

                That took a second to process, and I wondered whether or not he was being serious.  The solemn, yearning look on his face assured me he was.  "My finger?  Why?"

                "Humor him," Marlin huffed.

                I shrugged, "It's gone.  I think the hospital burned it."

                "Are you sure?"  Before I could answer, he added, "Don't lie."

                This was important to him, but for the life of me, I had no idea why.  "Honestly, dude, I don't know.  Why does it matter?"  

                He looked around, like he believed it was in the room with us.  "What if it comes back?" he asked gravely.  Soren dropped my hand and began crawling his own finger across the mattress.  "What if it's squinching across the floor in the middle of the night and it tries to get me?"

                A mental image of my severed pinkie, bloated and purple, bending at the joint and flattening to inch its way across the floor like a grub, leaving a slick trail of congealing blood in its wake, crossed my mind.  To me, it was comical.  Just one day ago I held the thing in my hand and watched it flopped around harmlessly.  Looking at the whole ordeal from Soren's perspective, that of a child with an overactive imagination, I considered how he might see it as scary.  Our brother had seen a lizard he caught lose its tail and watch in horror as the thing writhed and twitched like it was alive, only for a whole new one to regrow within a matter of weeks.  Soren never knew what happened to the old tail or how the new one got there,8 and he had no idea how the human body worked just yet.  Maybe the combination of those two things, and knowing I had suffered, was enough for him to assume the worst. 

Just one more monster added to his personal pantheon.

                I should have laughed at him, teased him.  It was my brotherly duty to ridicule his irrational fear, to encourage it, to weaponize it, to mentally scar him on a daily basis until he grew to an age where Santa was no longer real.  I opened my mouth in a moment of savage glee to permanently damage my younger brother's fragile psyche. 

                One brief glance at Marlin was all it took.

                My twin was glaring daggers at me.  Incipient murder stitched across her face.  Looking like a rather confused fish, my mouth closed and opened several times as I worked out just exactly what to say next.  The streak of vindictiveness dissipated under her stony gaze.  "Just because we don't know what they did with my finger,” I said carefully, “doesn't mean it's coming to get you."  He did not even pretend to look convinced, so I kept on.  "But that doesn't mean it's not."  Marlin started to speak, the spark of anger reddening her face; I held a hand up to forestall her.  "So, we are going to tell you everything we know about the rules to keep you safe."

                THE RULES, Marlin mouthed.

                "The rules?" he asked, shakily.  "Safe from what?"  He was scared, but that fear was rapidly transforming into excited curiosity.

                I gave him a condescending ha, trying to calm him by implying that this was a fact everyone knew, and how could he not.  "Monsters, you tiny dummy." 

                His eyes went wide in horrified fascination.  "Monsters are real?" he asked, the edges of his mouth turning up in a self-congratulatory smile, as if I had confirmed something he had always suspected.

                Marlin silently mouthed again, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

                I waved away her concerns.9  "Of course they're real.  But you need to know where they come from, and how to protect yourself."  I wracked my brain before speaking, thinking about all the random things that scared me while I was trying to sleep.  If I got this wrong, Soren would be screwed up and Marlin would kill me.  "Monsters come from four places, and four places only," I held up three fingers, remembered my phalangeal situation, switched hands to hold up four fingers, and started counting them off one at a time. 

One finger went down, "Under the bed.”

Soren nodded, “Well, duh.”

“Hush.”  I put down a second finger, “Inside closets with closed doors.”

He nodded again, “I knew it.”

“Really dark shadows,” I told him, leaving my remaining pinky raised.  “You know, like behind furniture and doors, under the car, in the corners of your room when you don’t keep it clean.”

Part of him wanted to argue that last point, but he pressed his lips into a grim line.  Better safe that sorry, apparently.

As I formed a fist to count off the fourth monster breeding area, my brain failed me.  “And, um, uh…"

                Marlin finished, "Mirrors."

                “Right, mirrors,” I mirrored.  ""They only ever come out at night, though.  And only with the lights off.  For all of it.  Monsters hate light."

                “You can't let your hands or feet hang off the edge of the bed, or they'll get you,” Marlin added.

Soren nodded sagely, agreeing with us as if this made complete sense to him.  “That’s why I always jump into bed from a few feet away when I use the potty at night.”  He bought it, more power to the kid.

                Marlin, mollified, adopted her muted mellifluous mom voice, "You are always, always, always, always, always safe if you hide under the blankets."

                "Always?"

                "Always, but you have to be quiet, because they can still hear you."

                Soren placed himself firmly in the center of the bad, “How do you stop them?”

                “We can't tell you that,” I told him, imagination already strained from pills and pain and lack of use.

                His pout was mostly obstinance, “Why not?”

                Marlin answered, “You're too brave, and too little.  We know you'd try to do it yourself, but you'd get eaten.  You have to let us do it for you.”

                “Can you do it tonight?” he asked.  “Get the monsters out of my room, I mean.  There aren’t that many, I promise.  And you might find the,” he nodded towards me, “you know.”

                “Yes,” we replied simultaneously, with a confidence that I faked, but made our sister sound like she had an actual plan.

                Marlin stood, grabbing my arm and walking us toward the door.  “Okay, munchkin,” she told Soren, “hide under your blanket like we told you, and we'll be right back.  We'll leave the light on to be extra safe.”

                “K,” came his compliant peep.  From beneath blanketed safety, he watched us go.

                Marlin led us downstairs, and as soon as I was positive we were out of earshot, I asked, “What are we doing?”

                “Grab a lobster hammer and a saucepan.  Then, follow my lead.  We’ve got monsters to fight.”

                Twenty minutes later, Marlin and I were relaxing on the couch while our brother was snoozing away peacefully in bed with the lights off.  The lead I was meant to follow became a performance.  After summarily expelling Soren from the room, and closing the door behind him of course, the act consisted mostly of yelling nonsense and banging the hammer and the pan against the wall for noise.  It was meant to sound like a terrible clash of monster and man, but I suspect it sounded like two kids just losing their minds on a hot summer night.  We left the room a little worse for wear and covered in sweat.

Soren, having shown an uncomfortable level of interest in the whereabouts of multiple monster corpses, accepted a brief but fantastic explanation of their rapid sublimation after death.  Being thoroughly convinced that his older siblings had indeed cleared his of room of no less than six boogeymen and one wayward digit, he happily allowed himself to be tucked in for the night.

                Marlin turned to me, “


[1] Re: Peg leg dad.

[2] The lesson here being: Never underestimate your mother.  -Marcus

[3] Or your father.  -Marlin

[4] An obscene amount of obscenity, if you will.  -Marcus

[5] His two, supposedly mature, pre-teenage children lying about accidental amputation and the resultant pecuniary damage caused by their recklessness, an apparent qualifier.

[6] As far as we knew.7  -Marlin

7 Gross.  -Marcus, et al.

8 Despite having kept the thing in a terrarium and clearly watching it regrow.  Kids are dumb.

9 If it was not obvious, the Mardises were a very expressive family.  -Isabelle

No comments:

Post a Comment