by Dan Dillard
Chapter 12
After the funeral, Danny and I stopped at a diner on the downtown square for a quick snack. That quick snack turned into over an hour of laughter and long overdue conversation. In the lobby, there was a small rack of trinkets for sale. One was a zippo lighter with the Harley logo and flames on it and on my way back from the men’s room, I bought and shoved into my pocket. I’ve carried it ever since. I still don’t smoke as a rule, except for those, the worst of times when I need a reminder of Sean, of Robin and now of Matt—a bittersweet moment with my closest friends—the ones who were there. I only have one person left to smoke and share that pain with and I don’t see Danny very often.
We didn’t talk about the Russian House, the ghost, or his thoughts on Matt’s curse theory. I thought about it, but didn’t say anything. Danny had dreams where Robin came to him as a ghost, or so he said, and as a young boy, he often came crying to my room to ask me if she was going to come back and be scary like the girl in the Russian House. I always told him no, that Robin would never scare him on purpose and eventually he stopped asking those questions. He seemed to get over it, all of it. I suppose there’s a barrier that we break through at some point while growing up, on one side, you remember and on the other side of that barrier, you forget. That fall when we saw the ghost and Robin and Sean died, Danny and I must’ve been on opposite sides.
He was young when it all happened, young enough that he might’ve suppressed the game of Light as a Feather and Stiff as a Board, the nightmares, the nights he slept with me because of his visions of the ghost, Nataliya, and of Robin’s death.
Instead, that afternoon, we talked about my son, and about the new baby that was on her way, although no one knew it was a girl at the time. We talked about his job and his love life or lack thereof, about cars and football and the things brothers discuss. We joked, we laughed, and for a few moments, on a very bad day, we were the same goofy kids we used to be. I was sad when my inner adult told me it was time to get back to my family. I was sad for him that once he left to go back across the state…he would be alone. I’m not sure he saw it that way. As youngest in the family after Robin’s death, I don’t know that he ever had that responsible need to care for someone else, not in the way I did.
“You should come stay with us sometime. A few days, Danny. Spend time with that nephew of yours before he grows up,” I said. “And his little brother or sister.”
“I will, Todd. That’s a promise.”
That was the end of our conversation that afternoon, and up until we left the restaurant, we sat in bewildered silence, letting Matt’s death and his funeral soak in. It was exhausting. We were like a mirror image, each slumped in opposite benches at that table, suits rumpled and ties pulled loose—although his were more expensive than mine. Five minutes or more passed when the waitress came and I settled the bill. Danny held up a hand in protest, but I already had cash out and had handed it to her. It was time to leave.
I drove through town to his hotel instead of around the outskirts. I went that way partly because I wanted to see the changes and partly because it took longer and I didn’t see my baby brother enough. He didn’t seem to mind and pointed out some of our old hangouts as we went.
When we reached his hotel, he got out and walked around to the driver’s side of my car, then stuck his hand in the window for me to shake. A handshake and not a hug.
“I’ll call you and Vicky real soon. We’ll set something up,” he said.
Set something up. An appointment with my own brother who I could never get rid of growing up. How things have changed.
“Yeah. I’ll hold you to that. Soon, right?”
“Definitely. Soon,” he said.
Soon was such a dangerous term, especially when more than half of our crew hadn’t lived to be thirty.
“Take care and drive safe, okay?” I said, thinking of the reason we were all in town to begin with.
“I will. You do the same. Give Vicky and Sean big hugs, will you?”
I nodded. “You know I will.”
He walked off at that moment, as if I was just another client. It felt like that to me anyway. There he went, a man now, someone I hardly knew anymore. Danny was still in there, but it was tough to find him, to get him to relax and be his old self. I watched him walk through the double glass doors into his hotel and wondered if once again, I’d said goodbye to my brother for the last time.
