Brothersong

by TJ Klune

  My mother was crying.

  Kelly was in his crib, and his arms were waving.

  “Kelly,” I said. I pushed a chair toward the crib. It was hard. I was little. I climbed on top of the chair as Kelly began to wail. I climbed over the bars of the crib. My father said I was a good climber.

  I was careful.

  I wouldn’t hurt my brother.

  I climbed into the crib and lowered myself next to him.

  I lay down beside him and put my hands over his ears because I was a wolf, and he was a wolf, and we heard things others could not. It was very loud.

  Gordo was screaming.

  My father was begging.

  My mother sounded like she was choking.

  “Kelly,” I said, and he punched me in the head. It was an accident. It didn’t hurt.

  I remembered what my mother did when he was like this. “There, there,” I said, petting his cheek. “There, there.”

  He stopped crying.

  He looked at me with wet eyes.

  I kissed his nose.

  He smiled.

  IT WENT LIKE THIS:

  Boxes.

  So many boxes.

  Everything packed up.

  “We’re leaving,” my father said.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because we have to.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because it’s what we must do.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  That was the day I learned even my father could cry.

  IT WENT LIKE THIS:

  “Gordo?”

  He looked at me. He wasn’t like he was before. He didn’t talk. He didn’t smile. I stuck my tongue out at him because it always made him laugh.

  He didn’t.

  He said, “You can’t forget me.”

  I said, “Forget?”

  He said, “You can’t.”

  I didn’t understand.

  IT WENT LIKE THIS:

  I was watching through the window.

  Uncle Mark and Gordo were on the porch.

  “Please,” Mark said.

  “Fuck you,” Gordo said.

  “I don’t want this.”

  “Yet here you are.”

  “I’ll come back for you.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  That was the day I learned I could taste what I smelled.

  It was like the entire forest was on fire.

  IT WENT LIKE THIS:

  There were skips and jumps. Holes in memory, the edges frayed and ragged. I was two and three and then I was six, six, six, and Kelly said, “Carter!”

  We were sitting in the grass in front of a house. There was a lake behind us. Mom said we couldn’t go to the lake without her because we could drown. She was on the porch, her hand on her stomach. Mom and Dad told me there was another baby in there. I didn’t know why. They already had me and Kelly.

  Mark was gone, hiding in the woods. He was always in the woods. Dad said he was brooding. Mom said they made Mark that way. My father never said he was brooding again after that.

  I didn’t know what brooding meant, but it didn’t sound good.

  “Carter,” Kelly said again, and I looked up at him.

  He was wearing shorts. It was summer. His face was sticky, and his hair was messy, and he was grinning at me. There was a hole in the dirt in front of him where he’d been digging. I told him it was the biggest hole I’d ever seen.

  He looked down at it, then back up at me. “Biggest?”

  “Yes. You’re a good digger.”

  “Good digger,” he agreed.

  Boys came. Other wolves. Cubs.

  One said, “Carter, come play with us.”

  I said “Okay” and “Sure” and “Can Kelly come too?”

  And the boy said, “No. He’s just a baby. Babies are stupid.”

  Kelly cried.

  I tackled the boy for making my brother cry.

  Mom pulled me off him.

  His nose was bleeding.

  “Carter,” Mom said, “what on earth do you think you’re doing?”

  “Kelly isn’t stupid,” I snarled at the boy as he pushed himself up from the ground. I tried to go after him again, but Mom held me back.

  “I’m telling!” the boy shouted before he ran away, the other cubs chasing after him.

  Mom turned me around, her face near mine. She was frowning. “We don’t hit other people.”

  “He said Kelly was stupid.”

  “Be that as it may, we don’t hit. It’s not nice.”

  She was wrong. I didn’t say that out loud, but I thought it. I thought it hard. She was wrong, because if anyone called Kelly stupid, I would definitely hit them. I would hit them as hard as I could. I would hit them until they couldn’t say those words anymore.

  I said, “Oh.”

  “Yes. Oh. You have to think before you act. You can’t use your fists to solve all your problems.” Then she grimaced, her hand going to her stomach as she stood upright. “Someone woke up. Oof.”

  The baby in her belly.

  I didn’t care about that baby.

  It wasn’t real yet.

  “Carter,” Kelly sniffled, and I went to him.

  I picked him up. I was very strong.

  He laid his head on my shoulder, and since I didn’t want to get in trouble again, I promised in my head that no one would call him stupid again.

  “Dig with me?” he asked. “Biggest hole?”

  I said, “Okay,” and that’s what we did. It was better than playing with other cubs.

  IT WENT LIKE THIS:

  Dad said our brother was coming soon. That we needed to be good and quiet so Mom could focus.

  “She’ll need all her strength,” he said, kneeling down before me and Kelly. Kelly reached up and touched his face, and Dad snapped his teeth at Kelly’s fingers, causing him to laugh. “She’s being very brave. Can you be brave too?”

  “Brave,” Kelly agreed.

  “Stay here with Uncle Mark. When it’s over, I’ll come back and take you to meet him.”

  And then he was gone.

  Mark said, “It’ll take a long time.”

  “Long time,” Kelly said, because he repeated everything everyone said all the time. It was annoying except when he did it to me.

  Mark said, “But she’ll be okay.”

  “Okay,” Kelly said.

  Mark smiled, but he looked like a ghost.

  It took a very long time.

  We got tired of waiting, and when Mark put us to bed, I had forgotten all about it. Mark said Kelly and I could sleep in the same bed, and Kelly had toothpaste in the corner of his mouth.

  We lay facing each other, our heads on the same pillow.

  Mark kissed my cheek.

  Mark kissed Kelly’s cheek.

  “Good night, little cubs,” he said.

  Kelly yawned.

  Mark left the door open and the light in the hall on.

  The sky outside was dark.

  “Carter?” Kelly said.

  “What?”

  “Do we have to have a little brother?”

  I didn’t know. I said, “I think so.”

  “Oh. Can I hold him?”

  “Maybe. You might have to wait.”

  “Why?”

  “Because babies are fragile,” I said, remembering the words of my father. “They’re little and fragile.”

  “What’s fragile?”

  I had no idea. “It means gross.”

  His nose wrinkled. “Like farts.”

  I laughed. I’d taught him that word. Mom and Dad hadn’t been happy with me. “Yeah, he’s a fart.”

  “Fart, fart, fart,” Kelly said. And then he closed his eyes. “I don’t know if I like little brothers.”

  “I do,” I told him. “I like little brothers a lot.”

  But he was already asleep.

  I kept my eyes
open for as long as I could because Dad was with Mom and Kelly needed me to protect him. I wasn’t an Alpha, but I could pretend.

  “I have red eyes,” I whispered in the dark. “And I’m big and strong.”

  I didn’t remember falling asleep.

  IT WENT LIKE THIS:

  “His name is Joe,” my mother said.

  “Joseph Bennett,” my father said. “Your little brother.”

  “Joe,” Kelly whispered in awe.

  I wasn’t happy about it.

  Then I saw him.

  And I knew him for what he was.

  What he would be.

  I said, “Alpha.”

  My mother was startled.

  My father took a step forward. “What was that, Carter?”

  “Alpha,” I said again, and my voice was filled with so much wonder, I thought I would float away.

  “How do you know?” my father asked.

  I shrugged.

  Mom and Dad looked at each other for a long time. Then, “Yes,” my father said. “Yes. Joe will be an Alpha. Can I tell you a secret about Alphas?”

  Kelly and I turned to him. This was important. I knew what that word meant now. Alphas had many secrets, and when they shared one, it was important.

  Dad crouched down before us. He took our hands in his. He said, “An Alpha is a leader. But we cannot lead alone. He will look to you, to both of you, for guidance. He can be nothing without his brothers. You will be his pack, and you’ll make him strong. You matter just as much as he does. There will come a time when weight will be placed upon the color of his eyes, but you mean just as much. You cannot make red without orange. Do you understand?”

  We both nodded, though we had no idea what he was talking about.

  Joe cried.

  We went to him.

  Kelly touched his cheek.

  I kissed his hand.

  “There is no one like him,” our mother whispered. “But there is also no one like each of you. You are all special in your own way. I believe in you.” She looked down at Joe, a tired smile on her face. “I believe in all of you.”

  IT WENT LIKE THIS:

  Joe grew.

  I found my tether.

  I shifted.

  The pain was exquisite, and I

  am wolf

  smell

  smell everything

  run fast run fast run run run

  hunt i want to hunt and

  father wolf

  mother wolf

  joe laughs he’s laughing he says you’re so pretty carter you’re so pretty

  i’m not pretty

  i’m amazing

  kelly says

  wow

  kelly says

  look at you

  kelly says

  you’re so big

  kelly says stop licking me carter stop licking me stop licking

  i don’t stop

  i never stop and

  The day came when Dad took Kelly away.

  “You don’t have to worry,” Mom said. She sounded like she was trying not to laugh. I glared at her, but she kissed my forehead and ruffled my hair.

  “Why is Carter worried?” Joe asked when she went back inside, leaving me on the porch. “Kelly’s with Dad.”

  “Because it’s a big day,” Mom said as I paced back and forth.

  They were gone for hours. By the time they came back, I was about to crawl out of my skin.

  Kelly was grinning.

  I ran down the porch and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Did you do it?” I demanded. “Did you figure it out?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. But it’s a secret.”

  I scowled at him. “I told you mine!”

  He laughed at me.

  Dad was watching the two of us. He looked like he was going to say something but shook his head instead. “Who’s hungry?”

  But before he could follow us into the house, a man appeared. I didn’t like him. He made my skin itch.

  “Osmond,” Dad said.

  Osmond glanced dismissively at us before looking back at Dad. “We need to speak.”

  “Can it wait until tomorrow? We’re about to have dinner.”

  “It needs to be now.”

  Dad sighed. “All right.” He looked at us. “Go inside. I’ll be back shortly.”

  I watched them walk away.

  “Let’s go!” Kelly said from the porch.

  That night there was a knock at my door. It opened slightly, and Kelly stuck his head in. “Stop jerking off.”

  “Fuck you,” I whispered, loud enough so he could hear but not so loud that Mom or Dad could.

  He snickered and stepped into my room, then closed the door behind him. He came to the bed, motioning for me to scoot over.

  “You have your own bed,” I grumbled.

  “Yeah, yeah, move your fat ass.”

  I hit him in the face with a pillow.

  He laughed before lying down next to me, stretching out his arms and legs. I heard his back pop before he relaxed, leg over mine.

  I waited.

  He said, “It’s you.”

  I could barely breathe. “What is?”

  “You know what.”

  I did, and I wanted to howl and shake the house to its foundations. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, dude. I’m sure.”

  “Oh.” Then, “Why?”

  He turned his head to look at me. His eyes glittered in the dark. He said, “Why am I your tether?”

  “Because you’re my brother.”

  “So is Joe.”

  “You were here first.”

  He huffed out a breath. “I’ve known. For a long time.”

  “But you never said anything.”

  He shrugged. “I thought it was obvious.”

  It made me nervous. Nothing so monumental had ever made me feel so small. “Tethers can change.”

  “It won’t.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  He said, “I do. It doesn’t matter what happens. If I get a mate—”

  “Ew.”

  “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

  “That’s pretty gay, dude.”

  He thumped me on the chest. “Don’t say that. It’s not nice.”

  “Right. Sorry. I….” I was at a loss for words.

  “Is that okay?” he asked quietly. He sounded unsure.

  I couldn’t have that. “Yeah. It’s okay.”

  We were quiet for a little while, just breathing in and out.

  Then he said, “Tether bros. That’s what we are. Couple of tether bros.”

  And it was like we were little again, only the two of us, and we were laughing, laughing, laughing, trying to keep our voices down but failing miserably. Dad walked by the door and paused, and we covered each other’s mouths with our hands. His breath was hot against my palm and it was gross, but I didn’t pull away.

  Dad moved on.

  Eventually we got ourselves under control.

  I was drifting off to sleep when Kelly said, “It was always going to be you.”

  IT WENT LIKE THIS:

  “Joe!” I screamed into the woods. It was raining and dark, and lightning flashed overhead. “Joe!”

  I couldn’t find him.

  “Carter?” Kelly asked. He was wet and miserable, and his grip on my hand was so strong I thought my bones would turn to dust. “We have to go back.”

  “No,” I snapped at him, feeling guilty when his face crumpled. “We can’t. We have to find him.”

  I was fifteen years old, and a monster had taken our little brother away.

  “Joe!” I shouted again.

  Nothing.

  “Joe!” Kelly yelled. “Where are you, Joe!”

  I wanted to shift so I could smell him, but Mom and Dad said I couldn’t shift without them there. I had my tether, and he had me, but it still wasn’t safe. There were all sorts of things in the woods.

  But Joe was gone, and no one knew where he was. It’d o
nly been three days, but I had failed him. Mom and Dad said I had to protect him, and I failed.

  We went deeper into the woods.

  Dad found us eventually.

  “What are you doing?” he roared at us. His eyes were red.

  We cowered. I shoved Kelly behind me as he whimpered.

  Our father fell to his knees. He held out his arms.

  We ran to him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, holding us tightly. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t find you, and I was frightened. I didn’t mean to be so loud. I didn’t mean to scare you. What are you doing out here? You’re supposed to be in bed.”

  “We gotta find Joe,” Kelly said.

  “Oh,” my father said. “Oh, oh, oh.”

  That was the second time I ever saw my father cry.

  IT WENT LIKE THIS:

  Joe came back.

  But he wasn’t the same.

  He looked like the same Joe. He had all his fingers and toes. He had all his teeth. His nose was still there, and his knees were still knobby.

  But there was nothing behind his eyes.

  They were dark, as if a light had gone out.

  I took him everywhere.

  I carried him in the house.

  I carried him in the woods.

  I carried him around the lake.

  Dad said, “Here, Carter, let me have him.”

  He reared back when I snarled at him, eyes flashing, fangs dropping.

  “Don’t,” I snapped at him. “Don’t, don’t, don’t.”

  My father stepped back slowly.

  I carried him away.

  I said, “Hey, Joe. Look at the birds.”

  I said, “Hey, Joe. Look at that bug.”

  I said, “Hey, Joe. Are you hungry?”

  I said, “Hey, Joe. Wanna hear a joke?”

  I said, “Hey, Joe. Can you please say my name?”

  But Joe never spoke.

  “He’s been scooped out,” Kelly told me as Joe lay between us. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing deeply.

  “Shut up,” I hissed at him, and I felt a twist of remorse when he flinched. “It’s not—he could hear you.”

  “Sorry,” Kelly muttered, but before he could turn away, I grabbed his hand over Joe, laying it on Joe’s chest above his heart. I pressed down. I could feel the beat through Kelly’s hand. It was slow and steady.

  “What do we do?” Kelly whispered.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered back. “But we stay together. The three of us. No matter what.”