by L. B. Dunbar
I was crossing campus after returning some books I wouldn’t need, as I couldn’t complete the research project for human anatomy. I’d found time to make up the lab that I ruined in hopes of passing the class with a mere D minus. I signed Elma’s name to my report, threatening those who worked as my partners that they must pretend she was present. I cursed my stupidity to cover for Elma again when I saw him.
Cain stood casually leaning back against a dark SUV. He couldn’t have come all this way without his bodyguard, Kursch, so I knew we weren’t alone, despite the empty Sunday morning campus. Dark aviators rested on his face, but I had no doubt he stared at me with those brooding eyes that could paralyze me with a look. My brother never hurt me, but he could harm me with a glare. His folded arms displayed the large cobra tattoo that swirled over and around his right arm. The force of his sting was in that arm. His right hook was legendary. What I hadn’t noticed before was obviously a new tattoo: I am my brother’s keeper; scripted along his left arm, the irony was not lost to me.
Cain had been the one to take care of me. When our mother disappeared, and then our younger sister was sent away, I cried. It was Cain who comforted me, with his left arm. Wrapped over me, he’d pull me tight, insult my tears, but the strain of his pain was present in his young voice. He was hurt as well, that our mother abandoned us to a tyrant father. Cain started taking those beatings on my behalf. When I cried in shame, and he’d scold me to stop, it was his left arm that tugged me to his side. As we grew older, he no longer touched me as a protecting brother.
One strange night at dinner, the realization hit me. My brother sat on the right hand side of my father, and I, the lesser son, sat on his left. It was the right hand that struck and the left hand that comforted. My father didn’t know how to comfort, so Cain did that for me as well. All my life, he’d taken care of me, and I never understood his motivation. It made the idea of fighting him a painful reality. I didn’t wish to fight him. I wanted to prove I was equal. I had changed, but I didn’t wish to beat him down. Yet, I couldn’t lose. If I did, there was more at stake than just me. There was Elma.
I approached him cautiously, like a curious child approaches the snake’s terrarium with piqued interest and a twinge of fear. He couldn’t get to me in broad daylight, like the protective glass of a transparent display case, but the distress still existed that he might escape, breaking rules, and sting me. I slowed to stand before him.
“Cain,” I addressed.
“Abel,” he replied.
Our names hung in the air. Biblical and rich in history, we stood as fated brothers. We did not control our destiny. For my part, it was love that fated me. For Cain, I could imagine nothing other than to please our father and prove his strength. He was his brother’s keeper, and that meant shadowing me in his darkness, on the left side of the feast filled table.
“You know we shouldn’t be talking,” I began, uncertain why Cain would be present on campus or search me out.
“I’m not here to discuss the fight,” he spoke, clenching his hard jaw, and looking away from me. I couldn’t see his eyes, but his tone told me this was something more, something difficult and hard for my brother to discuss. I waited in the awkward silence.
“I’ve seen you with her,” he stated. Instantly, I was confused. He was watching me with Elma?
“Are you spying on me?” I bit. He ignored my question.
“Do you love her?” he asked, surprising me as his neck twisted and he faced me again. The darkness of his glasses reflected the sun. I blinked without a place to focus as I responded.
“I do,” I sighed in disappointment with myself. It had been another week of trying to fight my feelings for Elma. I’d poured out my heart, dumping it before her, and the words must have smelled like stagnant river water, because she raised her nose, but ignored the scent.
Cain nodded once then turned his face away from me again, focusing on something to my left. His lips twisted and curved in his thoughts.
“Is she why you’re fighting me?”
It was my turn to ponder. I collected my words before I replied.
“Our father’s making us fight; unless one of us wants to back down.”
Cain spun toward me again. “You know that’s not possible for me.”
“It isn’t a possibility for me, either,” I emphasized.
“Because of the girl,” Cain hissed.
“Because of our father.”
Cain focused on me, and I wanted to rip the glasses from his face. He was intimidating me, but I wasn’t intimidated. I was irritated. If he wanted to confront me, I wanted it to be face to face. Eye–to-eye.
“Does she love you?” he asked, his voice falling. He swallowed hard, as if the words were difficult to release from his mouth. It was my turn to look away. I watched the leaves on a small tree blow in the valley wind. The day was bright. The white stucco buildings glowed. I stared at a picture window across the way as I spoke.
“I don’t think so,” I responded quietly. The words hurt me to say. Elma had no feelings for me. Concerned for me wasn’t the same as feeling something for me. The fisherman is concerned for the health of a river. The fish concerned about the bait.
“Thank fuck,” Cain whispered, but the heaviness of his words flowed between us.
“What?” I snapped at him. I didn’t understand why Cain wouldn’t want someone to love me in return. He was so closed off to emotion. He didn’t respond to my strangled question at first.
He stood to straighten off the SUV, uncrossed his arms, and turned to open the passenger door. I reached out for his arm, wrapping my thinner fingers around the thick forearm covered in cobra motif designs.
“What the fuck, man? Do you really hate me as your brother that much?”
Cain stilled, his fingers still gripping the handle; his eyes downcast to the hand over his tattooed skin.
“I don’t hate you, Abel. I’ve never hated you, but I don’t want her to love you. You’re a better person than me, a better fit for her, but I still don’t want it to be you for her. I’ve seen you with her and it would make sense for her to choose you, but God forgive me, I don’t want her to be with you.”
“If you love her, why wouldn’t you be happy for her, no matter who she chooses?”
He held the handle, but twisted toward me.
“And what about you, if she loved me, would you be happy in that choice?” His voice was strangely filled with emotion, something I didn’t recognize in the gruff tones of my older brother. I released his arm, letting my hand fall to my side. I clenched it into a fist as I struggled with the words.
“Does Elma choose you?”
“Elma?” My brother turned completely, releasing the door handle and standing off with me in a mirrored position of clenched fists at this side.
“Yes. Is Elma in love with you? Is that what she told you? After one night, she’s yours, when she’s been hating you for months?” My voice shook with rage and fear. Had my brother taken her after all and she found him irresistible? Is that why she was only concerned about me? She loved Cain instead?
“I didn’t take Elma. She didn’t tell you?” His face twitched and his lip curved on one corner.
“Elma and I don’t talk,” I stated.
“Well, maybe you should,” Cain offered, opening the door finally, forcing me to step back from the curb.
“What would be the point, if she’s in love with you?” I asked.
Cain’s expression changed. For the first time ever, he almost looked…happy. The smile crossing his face rose higher.
“Elma’s not in love with me,” he said matter-of-factly then stepped into the truck. My hand grabbed the door, holding it open as I faced him.
“Is that it? You want Elma to love you, not me?”
“Elma isn’t my concern,” he stated, his arm still outstretched as if ready to close the door regardless of my holding it open.
“That’s harsh. If she isn’t your concern, then why do y
ou care who she loves?”
“I don’t care about Elma,” he said, looking forward, the same silly expression of false happiness on his face.
“You’re a sick bastard,” I blurted. With that my brother exited the SUV and stood face to face with me again.
“What did you say?” he growled in my face.
“How could you…compromise Elma…and then care so little about her feelings? You care for no one, do you?” The surprise of my hurtful accusation was apparent. My heart ached for Elma and my brother’s crass treatment of her.
Cain slowly removed his glasses, his dark eyes orbs of storming anger.
“You know nothing about my feelings, Little Brother.” He tapped his glasses on my chest, then turned from me and reentered the car. Tugging the door toward him, he didn’t look back at me as the black vehicle raced away from the curb.
Saturday, the dance show was at one and I had no one in the audience for me. As the fight was held at The Belfast Casino, Lindee was able to get a room for free, and she took Maggie and Lucie with her. She assured me, over and over, that she could stay with me instead, but I knew she wanted to go to Vegas. Curiosity was getting the better of her. She wanted to see if Abel could do it, if someone could actually beat Cain. In my place, she took Sofie Vincentia, Lucie’s friend. I’d gotten to know Sofie as the TA for human anatomy, but I’d developed an animosity toward her as she obviously had a growing interest in Abel. I’d seen them on many occasions around campus. He was laughing with her and my heart ached for him. I missed Abel.
I wouldn’t allow myself to think of him, though. The dance performance was important to me. I couldn’t let down the students. I couldn’t let down Jewels, but most importantly, I couldn’t let down myself. I’d been working hard at The Dance Academy and I needed this job. Correction, I loved this job. I didn’t want to lose a good thing when I finally found one on my own. Actually, Abel had helped me get the job, like he’d helped me in hundreds of other ways. It was up to me to do with this opportunity what I would, and what I wanted was to keep dancing. I still needed to pay Abel back, and I didn’t foresee any means of that happening soon. I was going to be beholden to his brother, if Cain won the fight, and Atom Callahan had his way to make me an object of property.
I didn’t have the sense Cain cared for me anymore than I cared for him. We’d come to a silent agreement that one night. It was better not to talk than to bring up an unrepairable past. Words would not solve our issue. In my heart, I knew he hadn’t killed my brother, but Montana still died by his hands. In my mind, images of what he would do to his own brother haunted me. I blamed myself for getting Abel into this mess. While I believed Abel could fend for himself, I was certain it was going to be an epic fight. When Abel was pushed, he rose to the occasion. Whoever that scared boy was as a child, he was not present in Abel as a man.
I would have liked to have seen the fight myself. I wanted Abel to know I was behind him, not against him, but it was too late. His walking away let me know, Abel was ready to take care of himself. He didn’t need me to tutor him, although I wasn’t convinced he ever did need me. He had the charm on his own; he just lacked the confidence to use it. I could only hope his self-assurance would keep him in the fight.
The first curtain call was made, and I had to let go of thoughts of Abel. My little three-year-old tots were dressed like Goldilocks, as they pliéd across the floor, circling around a costumed bear. One girl burst into tears as all the others hugged Jewels’ friend dressed in a bear suit. When the lights closed the scene, I walked on the stage to pick up Tessie and carry her backstage. My ten-year-old intermediate group was a little later in the performance, showing off their hip-hop combinations. Finally, my dance troupe performed their ballet number. It was invigorating to be on stage again, and my mind wandered to when I was three and ten. My mother sat in the front section and cheered. My brother looked bored, but had attended. When I danced in high school, he was no longer home, and he purposely returned to watch my performances. He had been a dutiful and doting big brother. Now, I was alone.
Our dance ended and the teenage girls showcased their individual short pieces. Many of them were just like me when I was that age. Not a care in the world other than Daddy’s credit cards and who the cutest boy in school was. I didn’t have credit cards any longer, and the cutest guy at my school was one I never noticed before. I was too late. I found it ironic that I’d given myself to Abel, of all people, and yet the irony was on me, because he defended my honor at every turn. We weren’t even together when he’d done it on three different occasions.
My number was next. It was a solo and flashes of Abel and I in the dance studio infiltrated my thoughts. I should have been cognizant that I was on a stage, in an auditorium of parents and siblings. Instead, my head took over and I was in the dance studio again. Abel was under me in my thoughts, but we hadn’t touched. He was behind me, holding me tight to him. He was inside me with his fingers and the pulsing rhythm between my thighs matched the rapid beat of my heart as I danced. I was vaguely aware of the sweat trickling down the curve of my neck under the stage lights, but I was used to that sensation. Images of performing at Carrie’s flashed through my mind. I realized how lucky I was to have my current employment instead of continuing to work for the dance club. Carrie had been a decent employer, but it wasn’t a decent place to work.
My performance ended and the crowd applauded, but my sense of being alone overcame me. I had no mother or brother in that audience. I had no friends. While Lindee had been willing, I couldn’t be so selfish as to ask her to stay. I didn’t have Abel and he was the only one I wanted to make proud of me. I curtsied low and walked stoically from the stage. My eyes glistened with unshed tears, and I wiped at my face once I was out of eyesight of the darkening stage. I practically ran into Jewels in the space between the stage left curtain and the entrance to a hall, leading to holding rooms for students.
“Here,” she said, holding out an envelope to me.
“What?” I asked, my heart dropping as I thought the envelope held my final paycheck. Jewels was angry at my performance, I assumed.
“Just take it,” she said, as she shook the envelope before me.
“I…I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?” I questioned, reaching a shaky hand for the white rectangle.
“Absolutely nothing. In fact, I’m impressed by your dedication. I know you want to be elsewhere.” She raised an eyebrow to me.
“Your performance was amazing. Sensual and raw. There’s a scout out there for LA’s City Dance Troupe. He better not steal you, though,” Jewels pouted. “I’m kidding. Kind of.” She shrugged and nodded toward the envelope in my hand.
“I was asked to give that to you when you finished for the day. I’d say you’ve done enough and you need to get going.” She smiled slowly and my curiosity was piqued.
I sliced open the flap and pulled out a card stock of paper. It was a plane ticket for Las Vegas. I wouldn’t arrive until too late for the fight, but it was still an invitation to come to Vegas.
“Who gave this to you?” My heart leapt, hoping it was Abel, but knowing realistically it was Lindee.
“I can’t say. I don’t know. It arrived yesterday with a message to give to you when you were done,” Jewels smiled again, but she had a mischievous twinkle to her eyes. I didn’t have time to argue. I needed to get moving. I had a plane to catch.
A few days before the fight, I returned to Vegas, only I wouldn’t stay in the family home. It had never felt like a home, just a house, with a room that confined me and restricted me until I could break free. Meeting Creed had been a saving grace for me. He was my first friend, and the one who traveled with Shepherd and me to my suite at The Belfast Casino. The Belfast was inside the city proper of Vegas but on the edge. At the end of the strip, it catered to a different clientele, those who were there to play for big stakes. In this case, it was the high price of betting on a fight. The resort was large enough to house a small arena for
events such as these. The place was sold out for the fight of the century: brother vs brother.
While Cain was broader than me, more solid in mass, I had speed on him. Leaner and taller, I was quick. I could dance, the sportscasters announced. I had the moves to outmaneuver my opponent. I was going to have to keep my head one hundred percent in the fight to win. I couldn’t let it get inside my brain that this was my brother. I needed to concentrate on the fact this was a contender against me. It was easier to imagine he was a rival because in many ways he had been. Cain fought for my father’s attention, just like me, only he took the negative and the positive. He took beatings as well as congratulations. Cain was encouraged and he followed through on his performance to win. Not only was I discouraged, I was reminded that I wouldn’t amount to anything. Verbally abused, I sometimes wished my father did hit me. It might have let my mind rest if I concentrated on the physical ache instead.
Shepherd wanted me to harbor that hatred; relive those painful memories and bring them to life to center my concentration for the fight. She didn’t want me thinking of Elma. I’d been trying to block thoughts of her for weeks, anyway. Recalling how Elma didn’t respond to my declaration of love was painful. Evoking the bizarre conversation with my brother over Elma disturbed me. His blatant disregard for her feelings convinced me further that he and Elma had shared the night after she and I had sex in my room. Only a snake could take pleasure in dismissing his used prey at the feet of someone hungry. Cain’s denial only reinforced my belief that my brother had taken the woman I loved. Had loved. I needed to let Elma go.
The fight was scheduled for eight p.m., and I spent the day just listening to music to keep myself motivated. This was my first fight in a big arena. It was not only sold out in Vegas, but the concept was bigger than anything I had ever imaged. I wanted to fight. I wanted to prove to my father that I could stand up for myself. Fighting my brother had never been my intention, but Cain was the ultimate opponent.
