by Toby Neal
“Or maybe it’s because you’re part meatball yourself,” Dolf had joked. It was a rare occasion that Dolf showed his playful side. With Nando gone, would they ever see it again?
“I still can’t believe it.” Dolf’s pupils were so wide that his dark brown eyes looked black. “My twin is dead. It feels like . . . someone has cut me in half. But I’m still trying to walk and talk, missing half of myself.”
JT nodded. He already knew about grief and loss. When he lost Mary and Zoe, it had been like more than half of him was gone, until somehow Elizabeth had resurrected him.
He squelched the thought.
She was going to DC. She was the daughter of a senator. They didn’t belong together. Whatever Elizabeth had awakened in him needed to go back into hibernation—the end of the world was no time to fall in love.
“I’m sorry, brother,” JT set a hand on Dolf’s shoulder. “This is hard to hear now—hell, it’s hard to even say cause I’m in the middle of it myself. But I can tell you from experience that . . . someday it does get better.”
Dolf dipped his head, a small movement, like he didn’t want to nod, didn’t want to acknowledge his feelings could change . . . and maybe, for Dolf they never would. Without Nando, his softer counterpart, how would he go on? The two had been halves of a whole.
JT’s stomach churned as Dolf got out of the Rover, tugged down his well-cut suit jacket, and walked toward the house’s entrance. JT reached into his pocket and stroked the wedding rings there. Dolf was already halfway up the stoop when JT found the courage to lock the SUV and follow his brother. Dolf knocked for form’s sake, before fishing a key out of his pocket and opening the door.
The air inside was harsh with the stringent scent of bleach mixed with citrus floor polish, an olfactory assault against death. Like the house he’d grown up in, there was no entryway. JT and Dolf stepped into the living room, the stairs to the second floor in front of them, the kitchen in the back.
JT had visited when Nando and Avital first bought the house, and they’d fixed it up since. The old wall-to-wall carpeting was gone, replaced by pale blond bamboo floors, the most environmentally friendly flooring in the world. The couple had always been thinking about the bigger picture and what they could do to make it all better.
Why would God take Nando?
He was too good for this world. That was the only explanation. The Sight sent pinpricks of awareness over JT’s skin, trying to tell him something . . . but his grief was too raw, he couldn’t hear it when his mind was so blurry.
A slight creaking of the floor overhead indicated that someone was upstairs, and he followed Dolf to the second floor. Avital met them at the landing. A beam of light from the window fell on her dark red hair, making it glow scarlet.
She pushed up a face mask to address them. “I was just getting ready to wash him.” A petite woman, she wore scrubs and was swathed in the kind of rubber work apron worn at hospitals. “You need to glove up and wear a mask. We don’t know how contagious he still is.”
The truth of his brother’s death was a stab to the gut as JT walked forward to embrace Nando’s widow.
At five feet tall, Avital’s head just reached his shoulder. She rested it there briefly.
“Are you okay?” JT asked, gazing into her large, tilted brown eyes.
When he lost Mary and Zoe, Avital had been there for him. Mary and Avital had been friends and at the funeral she let him cry on her, literally wrap himself around her and weep. It seemed crazy now, as he loomed over her, that he had ever leaned on Avital—she was so small.
Avital was as expressionless as Dolf. “I have to wash and prepare him for burial. Then I have to return to the hospital,” she said. “Hundreds are dying by the day, so he won’t be lonely.”
Dolf stirred. “He wouldn’t want you working yourself into a grave beside him.”
“I’m not going to do that,” Avital flared, with the first bit of animation JT had seen. “But I’m not going to leave others to die while I wallow in grief.” She handed JT and Dolf gloves and masks.
JT donned his, then followed her, stopping in the doorway, gazing into the bedroom at his brother’s body.
A bowl of sudsy water rested on the fresh white sheet beside Nando’s naked corpse. Avital knelt, wringing out a cloth and wiping, wiping, wiping. She spoke to Nando softly, her voice little more than a murmur, her words incomprehensible to JT. Seeing her wash his brother with such love, JT dropped to his knees in the doorway.
He folded his hands and rested his head on them, feeling a great weariness crash over him—and his grief released in a wave.
A series of images filled his mind.
The pilots’ bodies in his field, mangled and burned.
The dead man behind the counter in Cloverdale.
The bikers he’d sent to hell himself, crumpled and motionless.
Elizabeth’s bare shoulder in the moonlight—and her voice telling him that she wanted him.
He needed her.
JT wished she was here, kneeling next to him, her scent filling his nose instead of the horrible astringent air that burned, reminding him of how little power they had against this disease. None of the normal protocols would save them.
Dolf stood stiffly beside him. Nando’s waxen face was softer than Dolf’s, his hair longer, his body gentler.
Deep, ugly sobs filled the room. JT realized they came from his own laboring chest.
Dolf knelt beside him, and their shoulders touched. JT turned to Dolf and embraced him, his hot tears touching his brother’s neck. “I’m sorry, Dolf. I’m so sorry.”
The twins had been bookends, a pair of shoes that shared the same laces.
Avital finished her task and shook a fresh, clean sheet out over Nando’s body. With efficient, practiced gestures, she rolled her dead husband into the sheet and tied the ends into knots, effectively cocooning him inside like a long white cigar. She must do this every day. JT wanted to vomit.
“You can take him to the house for burying now,” she said. “I’ll get changed into something more appropriate.” She went into the adjoining bathroom, light and silent as a ghost passing by.
JT lifted his streaming face off of Dolf’s shoulder. “Cry, Tin Man. You need to cry.” Tin Man, Dolf’s old nickname, still seemed to fit on days like these.
“No,” Dolf said. “Maybe when this is over, if we live through it.” He stood, and gave JT a hand up. “You up for carrying him out to the truck?”
“Not really. But if it will save him from a mass grave in quicklime, I can do it.”
They walked forward and lifted the mute, limp, white-wrapped bundle.
Nando was too light, maybe it was because his spirit had flown, leaving nothing but this corrupt husk.
They loaded the body into the back of the Rover on one of the sleeping bags just as Avital joined them. She had combed her hair and braided it neatly. She wore a black, ill-fitting dress that hid her figure. “You will have to wash that sleeping bag,” she said. “We aren’t sure how the disease is transmitted, how long the virus stays alive outside the body—but it’s definitely airborne and viable through direct contact with an exposed surface.”
She climbed in back beside the body as Dolf took the passenger seat and JT drove back to his mother’s house. They carried Nando into the yard, to a spot by the sundial and birdbath that Mama had chosen. JT and Dolf went to work digging.
Breaking through the velvety grass that Pops had taken such pride in planting all those years ago, another wave of grief hit JT, bowing his back so that he bent over his shovel in an arc of pain.
“I wish I could trade places with him,” Dolf said. JT glanced sharply at his brother as he dug with machine-like efficiency. The women joined them before he could respond.
Elizabeth had showered, and her blond hair was dark and wet, smelling like that strawberry shampoo Lucy had used since she was a kid. She wore a dress of Lucy’s in a dark navy blue that made her tropical eyes stand out—but then,
he realized they were bright with tears.
Lucy and his mother held each other, their bodies forming a triangle—neither able to stand on their own. Elizabeth watched JT for a moment longer, then picked up a spare shovel and began to tidy the dirt that he and Dolf were tossing out of the grave, making it easier when the time came to refill it. JT wished he could shower and change from his travel-worn, now-filthy clothes, but there was no time for it as Father Dominic, the priest from their local parish, swished across the grass in his robes.
The man had lost weight, seeming to sag inside the black bag of his robe. Formerly plump cheeks hung from craggy cheekbones like curtains from a rod.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, as Mama burst into fresh tears. “It’s nice you get to have him here at home.”
He said it like Nando was home from college or something.
They settled Nando’s body gently into the hole.
The sides crumbled in a little, soil filling the wrinkles of the sheet. JT’s throat was so tight; it was hard to breathe. Elizabeth’s hand touched his lower back, sliding around and gripping his hip as JT leaned on his shovel. Resting his forehead against the wooden handle JT closed his eyes, allowing E’s touch to soothe him. Like the bandages she’d placed on his wounds, it didn’t take away the pain, but he knew that it would help him heal.
JT pretended none of this was real for a moment.
Just a moment, to make it easier.
This was all a nightmare, and tomorrow he’d wake up a kid again, his brothers around the table, his father alive . . . and Mama cooking at the stove, the scent of sautéed onions rich in the air. “All you have to do to make Nando feel like a little boy is cook up some onions,” Avital joked once, years ago, before the two were even married.
“It’s the best smell in the world.”
“You’re just easy to please.” Avital’s voice had been teasing and loving as she ran her hand through Nando’s hair, his brother reaching out to grab her wrist and kiss her palm.
Pretending wasn’t working.
JT’s Mom wore a black dress with a lace collar that he’d seen at other funerals—including the one for his own wife and daughter. JT stepped away from Elizabeth’s touch, feeling for a moment like a traitor—he wasn’t supposed to be comforted by another woman. His happiness was gone, in the ground, with his brother and his father and his wife and child.
Mama murmured over her rosary as Lucy sobbed.
Avital remained dry-eyed and rigid. She held a sunflower, the stem as long as her arm, the bloom almost as big as her face. They were a strange combination—the bright, sunny plant, and his brother’s pale widow.
The service was short—The Lord’s Prayer, a couple of Psalms, and then each of them threw a handful of dirt on Nando. Father Dom closed his prayer book. “I’m sorry, I’ve got more funerals to attend.” He left, his robes flapping like crows’ wings.
Dolf and JT began to fill in the grave. Dolf stumbled as he threw the first shovelful and Avital glanced at him, her expression solemn and tender. Dolf recovered, taking a sharp breath, and continued, moving quickly, shoveling soil to cover the corpse of his twin.
Lucy and Mama placed bundles of flowers on the mound—lilies and roses, traditional and fragrant. Avital approached the grave and as she reached forward to place that big yellow flower on top of the white ones, she dropped to her knees, then lay down on the pile of dirt, arms and legs spread as if covering her husband’s body with her own, her face pressed into the flowers.
Dolf took up a silent vigil beside her, his dark head bent.
No one tried to move Avital. They returned to the house. JT kissed his mom’s cheek as they entered. “You were so brave, Mama.”
Dark was falling by then. “I’ve got to get a shower, and Elizabeth and I are tired from the road. Where can she sleep?”
The boys had been doubled up in bunk beds, two to a room, back in the day, but with three of them gone, there should be somewhere Elizabeth could sleep in privacy.
“Yes, she’s already settled in Dante and Cash’s old room.” Mama smoothed her unraveling braid, those hazel eyes he shared red-rimmed and tired. “She said she’s a scientist traveling with you to DC? I thought you’d finally brought home someone new.”
“No, Mama, though I like her fine. She’s on an important mission.”
His mother speared him with a sharp, knowing gaze. “I see the way you look at each other, Jacob. Don’t lie to me—or yourself.”
Before he could respond she turned back to Lucy who was putting out paper plates and cups and opening bottles of wine. There was enough food for an army, yet few guests had attended and even fewer remained for the wake. Casserole dishes lined the counter and JT stared at them. Food was the answer to everything in this neighborhood. Baby born, bring a baked ziti. Kid arrested, bring an eggplant parm. Burying your son in the backyard? Sausage lasagna.
Was this the last time he’d ever experience the customs which made up his heritage in this neighborhood?
JT grabbed one of the plastic cups of red wine and went out front to the stoop. He could hear the tinkling of the old upright piano as Lucy played—she always did, when she was upset, and it was a familiar counterpoint to the last of the sunset as the sky went the same blue as Elizabeth’s eyes when she was thoughtful.
He downed the wine, feeling the acidic burn and wishing he’d thought to grab the bottle.
JT smelled strawberry shampoo. Elizabeth sat down next to him, squeezing herself between his body and the railing. “Did you think about what I asked? About taking me to DC?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you’ll take me or, yes, you thought about it and you won’t take me?”
He looked into the empty cup. “I’ll take you, of course.” He didn’t look at her. “Your mission is too important. We’ll get on the road first thing tomorrow.”
“Oh thank you!” She threw her arms around him.
JT was filthy and sweaty, but her arms felt good. Too damn good. He couldn’t help pulling her close across his chest, digging his fingers into her waist. He found her mouth and took it. He needed her.
Her lips met his and electricity thrummed through JT’s body, making him hard and hungry. Their kiss tasted like wine and something sweet—she must have eaten a cannoli, and that cream-filled pastry had never tasted so good.
Yes, he did like sweet things after all.
She moved to straddle him, the oversized dress riding up to expose her thighs. JT gripped her with one hand on each leg, and kissed her deep and long.
A wolf whistle broke their connection. JT glanced over Elizabeth’s shoulder to see Frankie and a couple of guys walking by. Frankie raised the bat in greeting as Elizabeth hid her face on JT’s shoulder, a giggle welling soft and tender into the skin of his neck. JT gave Frankie and the boys the finger, which brought on a fresh wave of laughter.
He could see why his mother didn’t want to leave this neighborhood, with its tight-knit community and long-held traditions, its ability to laugh even as death raged around. Soon his neighborhood friends, sauntering down the street, would fall ill too, and there would be nothing to stay for but empty houses.
“We should go in,” JT said.
Elizabeth sighed, her cheek on his chest, her hands playing with the curls at the base of his neck. “Okay,” she said, but didn’t move.
They sat out until the sky was black above them, light pollution from the city blocking out all but the brightest of stars. The temperature dropped, and Elizabeth snuggled closer.
When they finally went back in, the house was dark and silent, the dishes washed and stacked in the drying rack and a corked wine bottle next to the sink. Mom and Lucy were in bed early. JT pulled his heavy body up the stairs, Elizabeth behind him, and straight into the bathroom.
The impact of Nando’s loss hit JT again as he washed off the filth of the road and the dried sweat and dirt of digging his brother’s grave.
When was this going to stop hurting?
JT cried and let it all go, his tears dashed away by the spray.
His old bedroom, shared with Luca, was much as he’d left it: twin beds on either side of the room placed beneath shelves weighed down with archival evidence of their pasts.
Athletic and shooting trophies lined the shelves of Luca’s side: football pennants, signed baseballs, and framed photos of his brother’s accomplishments cluttering the shelves.
Science awards along with track and field ribbons decorated JT’s side, as well as the animal skulls he’d collected when he was a boy.
And there was something new in the room. On his bed, streaked with silver moonshadow, lay Elizabeth. Her hair streamed across his pillow and a series of dips and swells he longed to explore hinted at the body beneath the sheet she’d drawn up to her shoulders. JT tightened the towel he wore to make sure it stayed on. “Mama said she had another room for you,” JT whispered, in case she was here by some accident. His voice came out gravelly and harsh.
“I don’t want to be alone. I want to be with you tonight.”
Her words brought blood flushing through him, and the erection he’d had on and off for days pulsed painfully, trying to lift the towel right off his hips. His heart beat so fast he was sure she could hear it as he lowered himself to his knees beside the bed.
“The only problem is, you sleep naked.” He smoothed her hair, pale and beautiful as the bones on his shelf in the moonlight. “And I’m a man. A weak man.”
