1
David
“Why are you going to Poughkeepsie when we have a perfectly good place right here that requires zero driving?” My brother Andy shot back frustrated and anxious like an animal trying to cross the road at night and then second guessing himself. He couldn’t help it. He was jaded as fuck and the girl I blamed for it was living across the country living it up while poor Andy carried the weight of her abandonment on his shoulders. Relationships made no sense to me. I preferred to love them once, maybe twice in a night, and then hightail it out of there.
“Did you call mom?” He paced the space of my apartment above our family owned bar and pub. Easton’s had been built by our great-grandfather during the roaring twenties. Since prohibition had been in our blood, Andy carried on the tradition of making craft beer. You could say we had a streak of breaking the rules starting with great-grandad Davy’s speakeasy club and bootleg gin.
“I spoke to mom the other day, and I ate the frozen apple pie she left me for breakfast. My job interview went well and I start Monday. Was there anything else I needed to do?” I ticked off other things on my list like finding a sander so I could fix the wood flooring of my apartment as well pick up a new fridge. The one in here had a vintage look and a smell inside the icebox that was just as old.
“That’ll do.” Andy murmured. I thought he’d leave, but instead he moved to the window and peered into the back lot behind the building where we parked next to the dumpster and a colony of feral ginger cats.
We were located on Main Street in town. Easton’s Pub, established 1917 was one of the older buildings in town on the Historical Society’s roster. Those biddies came by monthly demanding to restore all kinds of crap. I left the details up to Andy and our friend Hunter who owned a construction company in town. Me–I just wanted floorboards that didn’t creak and non-faulty electrical wiring. Andy had the top floor of our walk up, I had the middle floor and shared the space with a closet sized studio apartment we rented out to our probably underaged barmaid who happened to be one of Andy’s rescue projects and then the pub which was street level.
I slipped my watch on and searched for a clean t-shirt. Peering in the mirror, I observed my brother who moved from the window to sit on the edge of my bed making himself a nuisance.
“You’re still here Andrew?” I drawled doing my best not to roll my eyes.
He huffed and crossed his leg resting it on his knee. He looked insulted that I was leaving town to go to a different bar where no one knew me. I felt a theme song coming on and pushed the ridiculous thought away. I loved my brother, but he could be an obstinate interfering pain in my ass, and that was just on a good day when we didn’t see eye to eye on things.
“Still here.” He waved like a lunatic making himself comfortable on my bed and me increasingly uncomfortable.
He looked like he wanted to have a heart to heart chat. The thought of conversing with anything other than grunts gave me heart palpitations and sweats. I liked my role as an introvert and his need to drag me out of my shell and reintegrate me into town life here was enough to get me on my bike heading in the opposite direction for a drink at a random bar with strangers.
I could say any number of harsh things to him to get him out of my personal space, but I was working on that. The discharge therapists at the VA warned me I would feel residual feelings after being medically discharged from the army. I planned to make a career of it and now someone else in the form of an IED had taken that option away from me.
“You look worried papa bear. I’ll be fine.” I glared at him in the mirror and he ignored me. God, he was good at that. I didn’t know if it made him wiser or older, but he perfected the art of silently scolding.
Technically, he was younger than me. I viewed him as successful in the ways that counted since my failed military career. My parents loved us both unconditionally, but I always wondered if Andy was the golden child while I stuck out like a sore thumb. Andy had an uncanny sense for numbers and business working his ass off with the family pub and brewery taking over the day to day operations with ease, productivity, and profit.
I’d been busy running off to fight wars in the desert made by greedy men while my blood and best friend was building up the family business, taking
over, and getting married to a girl I couldn’t stand. Maybe I wasn’t being fair, but Sierra was a conversation for another day and a train wreck headache that seemed to linger beyond the tolerance Andy and I had for each other. I hated that she’d become the driving force wedging us apart.
“I’m not worried.” Andy looked worried. I wasn’t going out for a wild night, I just needed a break, but something seemed to be on his mind and if I didn’t address it now he might not ever leave my apartment so I could enjoy myself and what was left of the rest of my night. I’d finished reviewing the files and I set up my computer in his office so I could get the operating system up and running since that was my jam. He could stir the witch’s cauldron of barley and hops making the perfect craft beer while I focused on the technical side of things moving us from his hoard of papers to digital.
“I should have the computer system set up in a week or two.”
“That’s good.” He hummed. Okay, so he wasn’t worried about that, fine. Good. Great.
“Mom said her and dad are settled in at the condo in Orlando.” They loved the heat and sunshine and saying goodbye to New York winters was no hardship for them when they sold the house.
Andy continued to dismiss me and resumed his pacing toward my closet. “She loves the pool.”
“And the mouse.” I mentioned in case he forgot that was the main reason our mother wanted to be in Orlando. They already purchased annual passes and I could tell she was itching for the grandchildren discussion so we could visit.
“I saw Remi downstairs. She was busy with the happy hour rush and showing Pedro how to switch out the seltzer under the bar.” The mere mention of the tiny red headed tornado who worked for us and lived on my floor made Andy bristle.
Still nothing, not even a heavy sigh.
“I see mom stocked your closet.” He quipped with a snarky expression pawing through my clothes.
“Shut up, asshole.” I grabbed the closest thing to me but I regretted it once I held it up. Did our mother have a cotton killing dryer too? Mom left me a package of new black shirts in my dresser and still thought of me as her little boy before I shipped off to boot camp. I hadn’t worn a size medium in years and here I was trying to stuff my adult body into a shirt that might have fit me in high school a decade earlier if I was lucky. I gave new meaning to tight fighting and it bordered on obscene, but I didn’t have time to do my laundry yet.
But hey, it was the thought that counts right?
“Don’t worry. Black is slimming and the mirror shows an extra ten pounds anyway.”
My gaze returned to the mirror and I tilted my head angling the harsh light over my scars. They weren’t terrible, truth be told, they could be worse. I was lucky to be alive, but it didn’t change the fact that I could still feel the tightness of stitches, and the itchy phantom pain of shrapnel and debris that had cut the skin.
“I didn’t ask your opinion.” I glared at him trying to tug down the t-shirt before giving up and peeling it off. My muscles would have shredded the cotton before I even got out the door. For all I knew my beastly face might even scare the women away.