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The rose petals never looked as good; encased in glass and frozen until greater solidification. My fingers slid outwith my coat pockets and into my brother’s, taking from him the preserved rose.
My smooth fingers caressed the orb, knowing that it was safer in my care.
My brother faced me, noticing I had done something, of which wasn’t his concern. I knew he just needed guidance through whatever demons may be creeping in his mind. Why else?
I gave him a weak smile, and brought him in for a sidehug. He rested his head on my shoulder as we slowed to a stop in our journey through the streets of Somantown. The passersby didn’t give us so much as a glance; too engrossed in problems of their own. It was now that I took in the foul scenery that seemed to stretch out for miles onward. There wasn’t a single smile in sight, but exactly the opposite. Across the street from us, a baker struggled to attain control of a robbery, but hid under a counter, too afraid of what the consequences may have been for his actions. Two women were skirting into an alleyway, trying to claw each other’s eyes out. A little further ahead, five children gloomily ran the gravel and sand through their fingers; unable to use the broken playground. But like everyone else going about their rotten days, I didn’t spare them a second glance.
My brother took a deep breath and left the comfort of my right arm, and began walking again, without uttering a word between us in his moment of vulnerability.
I opened my mouth, trying to break the penetrating silence, but my voice was incapable of making an appearance when it wasn’t wanted nor needed. From what I was concerned little of, my brother was in trouble with the law, and was needed in the county jail until the morning hereafter for a fortnight to come.
“Do . . . . do you hear that?” He asked me, seemingly as desperate as I was to unearth a conversation in this deathly silence, but more able that I was at starting it.
My voice sounds croaky in response, due to lack of use and aging of my primary voice to the lower register that hid and came out when I would rather have ignored it. “Hear what?”
“The sound of a river, someone splashing in the distance . . . . almost home.” He said, and there was silence once more. This time a thoughtful kind of silence, where our feet rose and fell in unison, and our breathing patterns were noticeably similar. I didn’t mind it, but it seemed to bother my brother. As if he was going to miss me when he was in jail for the next two weeks, gathering information for my sister’s case. They had tried to deny him any rights in this, but he was in favor of the magistrate and chief sheriff, so his job would start as soon as possible. I was the only one left who’d be willing to escort him to the private dorm of the jail; the only form of luxury in that hellhole.
He grabbed my hand and I could tell he was nervous. Against my better judgment, I stayed glued to his sweaty palms and tried to focus on my aching feet. Hadn’t we walked far enough? “Thomason, how much further must we walk?” I asked, the annoyance in my voice clear to see.
“Just a little bit. You don’t have to walk with me the rest of the way, I get it.” He said, sighing and slinging his head downward in oppression. As if I wasn’t wanting to be in his presence. As if it was that simple. I didn’t know how to reply, knowing that I’ve never been too great with empathy or sympathy or whatever kind of EQ necessarily made my brother a brighter human to me. It also made him more gullible and naive, pushed around easier than I ever was in this world.
We walked on, now with a higher moral than before. Many grievances occurred on the streets before us, but none were as precious as the one that would happen in two weeks time. The court date for my sister.
It was one of those questions that I could never answer. Why my sister did it was a mystery to me, and why my brother chose to defend her was just as equally foolish.
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After nightfall, we arrived at the front of the pristine jail doors, and venturing into the sanctum of labyrinthine corridors and angry inmates, shaking the bars of their cells as my brother clung closer to me, easily intimidated by the angry shouts of the monkey people that were in these cages.
Animals were animals, and people were people. That was the difference between us and them. Well I tried to think that was so, but an itching part of me knew that there was a little bit of animal inside of me, untamed by parents, and forever snarling at people. I was always considered the rotten child in the shadows behind my glorious brother, but that wouldn’t have been the case. My brother needed me as I needed him, and a word against either of us would be either irrelevant or inapt.
He needed someone strong to look up to, even though he was the older of us two. He needed someone who was capable of protecting him no matter the situation. I just learnt to care for my siblings and family, and to never be too trusting with anyone else. My father was a smart man, but he never really was a good people-person. Neither am I, which was what balanced the two of us out.
In later years would come my sister; a girl who was always so positive and outgoing, a wonderful communicator in the likes of my mother and brother. I was always so proud of her, but now there was just a burdening cloud above her, brewing storm after storm into her perfect life. I felt bad, but I didn’t know how to express that. She didn’t need a nice older brother in me. She needed what would be considered ‘the problem.’ Someone to teach her the consequences of being too nice. That, my brother wasn’t able to grasp. He always told me things along the lines of, “don’t be so quick to judge someone, Agar.” But doesn’t he know how you can easily tell what type of person might this one bloke be upon impression and the way he carries himself? Could he not read expressions as well as I can? Now, I hate talking down to my family, but what they do sometimes is really foolish. I could never imagine myself, the hardened Agar, being as kind and optimistic about everything. Maybe this was why I moved away, so I could remove myself from this kind of positivity.
“Down here.” My brother said, guiding me into a deeper part of the jailhouse that was more of a palace. He had a small key that he inserted carefully into the keyhole, which was as easily miniature as the key itself. He twisted the doorknob, and inside of the room was a lot of dust and grime. Cobwebs outlined the base of this room and settled in the top corners and behind bookshelves of references. I didn't have any reason to leave my older brother in this kind of environment, but it was only for two weeks, right? A spider couldn’t have the brains or even think of the idea to crawl into his holey face in that kind of time. Well, this is what I would have liked to believe.
“Uh . . . .” He looked uncertain. I didn’t agree with his indecision, for he had brought us all the way here for no reason, but I could offer him some bypassing comfort. For the first nights, at least. But I couldn’t bother him when he was deep in his research, and it wasn’t something I’d have troubles with.
“I’ll stay with you the first few nights, if this is what you want.” I said, and felt a smile crawl onto my face as I saw his own light up as if I just made his world. He ran to hug me, and I felt a compelling instinct to shove him off of me, but kept myself at bay. It’s just for a few nights, Agar. You’re fine.
But something was telling me it wouldn’t be fine.
“Let’s go to bed.” He nodded at me with a blush, and jumped into his large queen bed.
He was instantly asleep and I stood there, awkwardly staring at his chest rising and falling in the blankets. His breathing pattern was healthy, and I was happy with that. I exited the room, making sure the door didn’t close so I wouldn’t be locked out of the room, and I ventured the halls to find something to eat.
I didn’t have a large day ahead of me, and I was famished. I’d have to go into town tomorrow to fill that small mini-fridge in the room under the television set that I was sure I’d never use.
I heard a loud moaning sound coming from downstairs, and I hurried into an elevator, worried for the sake of my brother’s purity, and heard a slashing sound followed by a muffled cry. “Lowlife! You will never have the chance to change. Scoundrels like you never do.”
More cries after that, and I heard a thud. The skin of my face paled, and the elevator doors opened, leaving me to a scene that I wasn’t ready for. A bloody body lay on the cold tiles of the flooring, and the warden of the jail was holding this weird weapon that was a cross of a whip and a samurai sword. He looked at me with a grin, and walked towards me. “Welcome!” He said in an extravagant voice, guiding me out of the elevator and down the hall, away from the body where scurrying feet could be heard behind me, already cleaning up the deceased man lying on the floor. “You must be Thomason Clisp! We’ve been expecting your arrival.”
“Do not mistake me for my brother, and do not think that you have the right to have a conversation with me. I am not one to easily manipulate like my brother, and I seem to have a pair of eyes, do I not? I have ears as well. I know what you did to that poor man.” I said with disgust in my voice, pushing the warden’s hands off of my shoulder.
His expression immediately changed into a scowl. “Yes, I’ve heard lots about you, Agar . . . . how horribly confused you are. What you saw was just the result of a long day. You must be tired, hungry, thirsty, in serious need of a shower! You must have been confused. You didn’t see nor hear me kill a man in that hallway, you imagined it. I am unknown to you, and so I may come off as scary! But I don’t kill criminals, I just keep them in custody.”
“Yes.” I mumbled, growing dizzy as he led me to his study. “Yes, you’re right.”
“Feel free to take a nap! Jails may seem scary, but we aren’t animals here. Our place is all yours.” He said, and I just nodded, my eyes struggling to stay open. “You’ll regret that.” He whispered, and I was unconscious.
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