by Sera, Drew
“Thanks, mate.”
I nodded at him, “No problem.”
Martin put the photo album back on the shelf and got into his bed.
“Do you have any pictures or anything from where you came from, Wes?” he asked.
“No.”
I thought back to the docks. No one took pictures there. None of the kids had anything like an album. None of us had anything.
“No? Nothing like a photo of your adoptive family or something?”
“No…we never took pictures.”
“That’s too bad. Pictures are great to have. Even though your mind remembers things, it fades. But a picture is nice to have because when you see it, you remember things. I’m glad I have the pictures of my Uncle Bram.”
There was nothing in my past that was worth remembering. It was all very forgettable. I had vivid memories of my past, and I could certainly do without them.
5
Mason
February 2007
It had been a week since the funeral for Uncle Bram, and I had been trying to keep Martin from getting so depressed. Wesley had been helping in that department without even knowing it. I think taking him in and off the streets was a generous move on my dad’s part and it’s been good for Martin.
Martin has struggled the most with the passing of our uncle, but he has taken a liking to Wesley. Since Martin’s been the little brother for so long, Wesley’s presence gave him a shot at being a big brother.
We had just finished dinner, and the four of us were playing video games. It had been the first time since the death of Uncle Bram that I had heard my brothers laugh and seem like their usual selves. Wesley liked watching us play but it turned out that he’d never played a video game before.
“Mason,” Uncle Dean had poked his head into the room and called my name. “Can you come here for a minute? I need to talk to you.”
I nodded and handed Kyler the controller and left the room. My uncle was in the hallway and asked me to take a walk with him. Once we were outside, we naturally found the cleared path that led from the house to the woods and to the other side of the lake. Since my dad wasn’t home yet, I worried that something bad had happened.
“Is everything okay?” I questioned. “Is Dad okay?”
Uncle Dean put his arm around my shoulder and nodded, confirming that Dad was fine.
“Nothing to worry about, Mason. Your dad is still at the bakery.”
There was a long pause as we walked along the path under the cover of the trees.
“Mason, where do you picture yourself going?” I wasn’t sure what he meant exactly. I thought my life was already planned out. “What are your long-term goals, Mason?”
“Well, I thought eventually that I’d take Dad’s position with the business when the time comes.”
Uncle Dean laughed under his breath and gave my back a pat.
“Good, Mason. I’m pleased to hear that you’re interested and planning on your father’s position. You know how these things are supposed to work, right?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“With me being your father’s remaining brother, I would be next in line, and then you.” I nodded as we continued our walk. “Those are the plans set forth by my great, great grandfather. But, I have concerns that your father may stray from that plan.”
“What? Why? What do you mean?”
I was confused by this and didn’t understand why Uncle Dean thought that my Dad would do something different.
“Thom seems, oh how should I put it...distracted by Wesley.”
I frowned, not understanding what he meant by that.
“Dad’s trying to help Wesley get on his feet. He’s homeless—”
“I know what he is, Mason,” he snapped at me and stopped walking.
What was he so pissed about? I was really confused as I tried to think about what I was missing. My uncle paced in front of me and then picked up a stick and threw it against a tree.
“Mason, your father could grow close to Wesley and begin trusting him. Which would then put all of us at risk. Thom could turn the business over to Wesley.”
I laughed and looked around. Dean wasn’t making any sense. Wesley was just a fourteen-year-old kid off the street.
“Don’t laugh, Mason. Your position and my position could be in jeopardy.”
I stared at him as he continued to give me reasons or hints that Dad would possibly consider Wesley. I suppose it kind of made sense.
“Mason, do you really want someone other than a Van Doorn running our family business?”
I shook my head.
“Good. Here’s what we need to do. You need to make Wesley feel unwelcome and unwanted. Make him feel like he’s in the way and a bother.”
“What?”
He must be joking. I stared back at the house through the trees. Wesley was just a kid.
“Just make some comments to him here and there. With some luck, he’ll run away and leave. You and I need him to leave on his own.”
“But—"
“It’s not that hard. Make some comments to him. Make sure you do it when you’re alone and also in front of your brothers. You’re the oldest, and Kyler and Martin will soon follow suit. They look up to you.”
I looked down and thought about it. Martin and Kyler probably would eventually join in. But was this the right thing to do? Wesley was only fourteen. Dad had said that Wesley had had a rough life and that we needed to be kind to him. We were raised to be kind to everyone and help those in need. Wesley was in need.
“Mason, don’t be dim about this. He’s a danger. He could go to the authorities about the business. Do you want your dad locked up?”
I shook my head.
“Neither do I.”
Uncle Dean walked closer to me until he was within a foot. He pulled out an envelope and opened it to show me what was inside. Tablets. My eyes shot to his.
“Mason, I know you’ve tried our tablets from the lab,” he said. I remained quiet and didn’t admit or deny anything. “These tablets are a little different,” Uncle Dean said.
I had heard about tablets being out there on the street that were partially pure or made with a mystery blend of stuff. That was dangerous shit, and my dad always told us that if we were going to experiment and try them that he wanted us to only try what was made in our family lab. It was all that could be safe and trusted.
I stared at the light green tablets and frowned. The ones made in our family lab were pink. Where did he get these?
“What makes these so different?” I asked.
“These are going to help you do your job of making Wesley feel unwanted.”
“What’s in them and where did you get them?”
“I had them made just for you, Mason. They came from our lab.”
“Ours are pink. These are green.”
“You’re very observant, Mason,” Uncle Dean said sarcastically.
What was wrong with him? He had never treated me like this.
“Sometimes I wonder if you’re Thom’s kid after all. Maybe you take after your mother.”
I was shocked he had said that to me. I didn’t even know how to respond.
“I had the green tablets made in our lab. These are specially enhanced tablets that will put you in the right frame of mind to handle this task.”
“What’s in them?”
“Don’t worry about that part. I made these myself, just for you. Take one every other day and everything will be fine. I will give you four each week at the family dinner. You’re going to love the way these make you feel, and you’re going to want to take one each day. Which is why I’m keeping the quantity limited.”
I took hold of the envelope that contained four pale green tablets and looked at them. Instead of having the “VD” stamped on both sides, these had a “V” stamped on one side and the “D” stamped on the other.
“Remember, these are made just for you. You are not to give them to Kyler or Martin, and you’re
not to tell them about them. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Uncle Dean said and gave my cheek a few firm pats until I moved my face away. “Take one in the morning, and I’ll call you sometime in the evening.”
He left me standing alone in the woods with the envelope. I didn’t really think Wesley was a risk…but if what my uncle said had any truth to it, I wasn’t going to chance my position in the family going to anyone not named Van Doorn.
6
Martin
March 2007
“Stop…’m sorry…don’t want to fight.”
I woke up to Wes mumbling in his sleep again. He did this nearly every night. I told Dad, and he would just tell me to wake him up and if I felt up to it to try and ask him about his dream. I’ve done that each time, but he’s very closed up and tight-lipped. I never got anything out of him. It’s not that I minded waking up to his nightmares, I just felt bad the guy had nightmares almost every night.
Wes was attending the same school as me, and we’re becoming good friends. I just had a few months left before I graduated but Wes was only in his freshman year. He was having a hard time with some class subjects, but I had been helping him.
After being the baby brother to Kyler and Mason, I’d always been on the receiving end of someone looking after me. They’d always been good to me, and now I had the opportunity to do that for someone.
I sat with Wes out by the creek behind our house after school, helping him with his essay. The paper was a mess and had eraser marks everywhere, and he was getting frustrated with it.
“I hate writing,” he said under his breath.
“Relax, mate. It’s just a paper and not the end of the world. You’re doing okay,” I encouraged.
Wes’s problem was writing sentences. Sometimes it seemed like a chore to him to just hold a pencil, and his handwriting was awful. I had enough of watching him scribble across the paper and then wipe his eyes with the back of his hand as he erased and tried to re-write it. He knew what he wanted to write, it’s just the act of writing it that was hard for him.
“Wes, stop, mate.”
I took the pencil out of his hand and held it in mine as if I were getting ready to write.
“See? Hold it like this, okay? It’ll help your handwriting, and you won’t be erasing so much.”
I handed him back the pencil and watched as he tried to emulate how I held it.
“Show me again,” he held the pencil toward me. “Please.”
I took hold of the pencil in my hand and wrote my full name on the back of my math paper. I repeated it a few times slowly so he could focus on my hand holding the pencil. I handed the pencil back to him and turned my paper around for him to try. Using the form I just showed him, he wrote his name a few times. His name was about twice as big as mine, but I think he had more control with the pencil.
“That’s better, Wes.”
He smiled and looked up at me and then continued to write his name. Wes held the pencil in the position I showed him and held it up.
“This feels a lot better in my hand than the other way,” he said.
“Good, mate. Where the fuck did you learn how to hold a pencil like that anyhow?” I innocently joked.
“From some older kids while I lived on the docks,” he answered me quietly.
I didn’t know what went on there, but Wes had been messed up over it. I’d heard my dad talking to Uncle Dean about it. They talked in hushed tones about the place, and whenever I appear, they stop talking about it. I’d been so damn curious about it and had asked around at school to see if anyone had heard of the docks. No one had though.
“What schools did you go to?” I asked him.
He just shook his head and continued to write slowly.
“The docks had school.”
“Like home school or something?”
“Yes.”
“My Uncle Bram used to say that anyone can learn just about anything, it all depends on the teacher.” I missed Uncle Bram. “You would have gotten along well with him, Wes. He was really laid back and knew how to have fun.”
Since Wes was talking to me a little bit about the docks, I decided to see if he’d talk a little more to me. I knew my dad was trying to get Wes to talk more about the docks, but he’s so quiet about it.
“Wes, what were you dreaming about last night?” I cautiously asked as I looked at him. His hand stopped moving on the paper, but he didn’t look up at me. “You were saying that you didn’t want to fight.” I paused, hoping he’d say something without me prompting him again. “Who were you going to fight?”
Wes was quiet, and then we were called in for dinner. He quickly gathered his books and papers and bolted for the house. I sighed and picked up my books before heading inside. Eventually, he’d talk.
* * *
I woke up again in the middle of the night to Wes mumbling about fighting. I sat up and listened to his broken murmurs for a while and went back to sleep when he calmed down. When it was just my dad in the kitchen and me, I told him about it again.
“Martin, please be patient with him, son.”
“I will. But they seem like really intense nightmares.” I cleared the table and looked at my dad. “What’s the docks, Dad?”
“I’m working on that, Martin.”
“What does it even matter?” Mason asked. “Why are you spending so much time with him, Martin?”
“He’s been on the streets, Mason. He’s trying to transition to school. He needs support and friends.”
Mason rolled his eyes as he left the room.
“Ignore Mason, son. I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately. I think it’s wonderful you have become friends with Wesley,” Dad said as he gave my shoulder a pat before refilling his coffee.
I went outside and found Wes by the creek. He had a bunch of rocks in his hands and was skipping rocks, or trying to at least.
“Hey, mate,” I said as I approached.
Wes turned and greeted me by holding his throwing hand up. I watched him for a few minutes and then picked up a few rocks and showed him how to do it.
“It’s in the wrist, mate.” I chucked a rock, and it glided and bounced beautifully over the water. “Kind of like a good wank,” I joked. “You know what I’m talking about, mate,” I teased.
Wes laughed really hard at that. Laughter from Wes was hard to come by so I decided to take advantage of his light-hearted mood. I pulled out my cell phone and stood close to him.
“Here…turn around, mate.”
I tugged on the sleeve of his shirt and guided him to turn so his back was to the creek. I put my arm around his shoulders and told him to look up at the cell phone that I held at a distance. I took our picture and then pulled the cell phone between us and showed him what I captured. He smiled at it and then looked up at me.
“Why’d you take a picture?” he asked.
“Because. We’re brothers and friends, mate.” I looked down at the picture. It was a great picture with the creek and trees in the background. Plus, we were both smiling. I could tell that he was still confused. “Wes, it’s what friends and family do. They take pictures of things. Things to remember.”
He smiled and turned to look at the creek behind him. Wes was considering what I was saying, but I think he was still lost on the idea.
“You want to remember me by the creek?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I shook my head at him and went inside. I uploaded my picture to my laptop and then printed two small copies of it and one regular sized 4x6. I wrote “Martin and Wes 2007 brothers” on the back of one of the small pictures, and then pinned the 4x6 on the wall above our dresser.
When Wes came into the room, I handed him one of the small pictures. He stopped and had a dead serious look on his face.
“What’s this?”
“Your memory is shit, mate.” He wouldn’t look up at me. “You didn’t have any pictures. Here’s your first. I
wrote on the back.”
Wes flipped it over and raised his eyebrows as he read it.
“Brothers,” he whispered.
The guy looked like he was going to cry, so I tried to lighten the mood. I held out my hand to show him that I had one too.
“See, I have the same one. But I need you to write on the back of mine.” He stared at me, not comprehending. “I wrote on yours, and I want you to write on mine. We’ll have these forever and can look back on them and remember laughing by the creek and skipping rocks. Here, mate,” I handed Wes the pen.
He took it to our desk and flipped the photo over and set the pen on the paper.
“Wait, you should write it. Your handwriting is way better.”
“Wes, I want your handwriting on it.”
“Mine?”
I nodded, and he turned his head to look at the back of the picture. Finally, he began to write. I watched as his large handwriting revealed “Martin and Wes 2007,” and then he stopped and set the pen down before turning the picture over again. I reached around him and put the pen back in his hand then flipped the picture over that I gave to him with my writing on it as a sample.
“Brothers, Wes. You have to add that part. Your picture says ‘brothers’ and I want mine to also say that.”
He wrote brothers and handed me the picture, and then he watched me put it in my wallet. Wes stood and put his picture in his wallet too, and I smiled at him. I showed him the picture that I pinned to the wall above the dresser. This seemed to be a really big deal to him, and I was glad that I did it. Who knows, maybe he’d start to feel comfortable enough to talk to me about the docks.
7
Wes
May 2007
“Ready, Wes?” Martin asked me as we walked side by side down to the deck by the lake.
“I’m ready,” I said confidently.
Martin, Kyler, and even Mason had been helping me work on building muscle. For a few months, I’d been working out with them after my homework was done and they had been talking about how healthy swimmers were. Turned out that the three of them had a weekly competition during the summer to see which one of them could swim across the lake the quickest.
