Page 63 of Epidermis

He pulled Konrad to his feet and they left their shoes at the door. Jasper put the flowers in a mason jar half filled with water since he didn’t own a vase, and took a box of pancake mix out of the pantry. Konrad watched him dump a generous amount into a plastic bowl discolored by age, and Jasper’s lip quirked up under his scrutiny. “I am capable of cooking,” he said. He added water and whisked it together with the same metal whisk he’d had since he was twenty. He peered down at the overly thin mixture and added a little more pancake mix to correct it. “More or less.”

“You mistake my appreciation for surprise.”

Jasper had cooked for Konrad once, so fine, maybe it wasn’t surprise. It was just always going to be weird to cook for someone who could do it so much better.

The dogs sat in an almost straight line, tails beating the linoleum floor, and Jasper pointed the dripping whisk at them. “I’m working on it. Don’t give me the guilt trip eyes.”

“Might I be of service as a sous chef?” Konrad offered, clearly feeling lost in a kitchen without something to do.

“You can feed those mangy things, please.” Jasper told him how much to give each of them, tsking at the dogs when they tried to follow Konrad to the huge plastic tote of dog food. They thought they could act out just because their new friend was there. Ever since Konrad cooked breakfast for them, they’d thoroughly forsaken Jasper as their favorite human. Jasper couldn’t blame them, though; he would compromise his loyalties for Konrad’s cooking too.

They ate pancakes slathered with enough butter for Konrad to look slightly horrified, and Jasper covered his in so much syrup that Konrad stared at him like he’d just violated the Geneva Convention.

Konrad applied a far more reasonable drizzle of syrup to his own, and nodded as he chewed his first bite. “Wonderful,” he said after he swallowed.

Jasper could never deny that he preened at that. Yes, they were. His pancakes were fluffy and delicious, and he was far too happy about Konrad liking them. After watching Konrad take a few more bites, Jasper said, “I guess you don’t really get to eat anyone else’s cooking, do you?” Then he snorted at the absurdity of what he’d just said. “Not that you’d want to, after having your own.”

“I certainly would, given the opportunity. If it was someone I cared for. It’s… an ‘act of service.’ Anna once explained ‘love languages’ to me and informed me that I show love by performing acts of service, so to have it reciprocated is actually quite meaningful.”

I’ll make you pancakes every goddamn morning. Fuck, was it possible to have a crush on someone you were already dating? Just hearing Konrad say the word love gave Jasper more butterflies than any grown man should still be able to experience.

“I don’t really know what mine is,” Jasper admitted, mopping up the excess syrup on his plate with the last of his pancake. “What was hers?”

Konrad blinked as if surprised he’d asked, and Jasper wondered how long it had been since he got to talk about his sister. “Physical touch,” he said, his eyes softening in a way that was singular to when he spoke of her.

Jasper smiled. He’d never given much thought to the contrast between Konrad’s stiff demeanor and how readily he offered affection, but now he imagined a younger, more aloof Konrad, forced to loosen up for a baby sister who insisted upon clinging to him at every opportunity. He’d seen the pictures; Anna had stuck to him like glue when they were together.

“I was quite cross with her when we were young,” Konrad said as he stacked their empty plates together. He continued as he carried them to the sink. “Our parents looked right through me, whether I excelled or failed. Nothing I did could elicit a reaction from them. But when Anna came, they were new people, my father especially. I resented her for many years. She clearly possessed something I lacked, that made her something they could love. I shunned her the same way our parents did to me. There are few things I regret as much as that.”

“You were just a kid,” Jasper said, joining him at the sink to rinse the dishes as Konrad washed them.

“I still mourn for those years I wasted, being at odds with her.”

Jasper’s hands were wet, so he leaned his head against Konrad’s shoulder in support in lieu of touching him. He knew nothing he could say would mitigate the loss Konrad felt, a loss amplified by knowing what he did now, that their time together would turn out to be so short. They finished the dishes and Konrad tilted his head to the side, resting his cheek against the top of Jasper’s head. Jasper wanted to tell him that he loved him. It was a daily occurrence now, whenever they parted ways, or said good night, or hung up the phone—the words rapping on the ever-fragile glass protecting his better judgment.

They showered and dressed, and Jasper offered to drive, but Konrad insisted. Jasper put on classical music, figuring Konrad might appreciate something to his own tastes rather than someone wailing about the soullessness of modern industrialism. They didn’t talk and Jasper didn’t mind.

It was a beautiful cemetery. It was vast, the ground dappled with the shadows pouring through leaning willow trees and the gaps in the wrought iron fence. Jasper walked with one hand in Konrad’s and carried the flowers in the other. He’d never visited anyone at a cemetery and hadn’t known what was appropriate to wear, so he’d kept it simple, with his nicest black jeans and a black sweater.

“I’ve known many people who lost their loved ones suddenly,” Konrad said as they followed a narrow path, his thumb running back and forth across Jasper’s knuckles. “I was fortunate to have a year with Anna after her diagnosis. If it were me, I would have had an exhaustive list of things to do now that I was running out of time, but Anna always lived like tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed. She sang loudly and danced often. When she started to truly deteriorate, we flew to Switzerland. There are places in the United States that allow medically assisted suicide by a physician, but she didn’t want to be escorted from this world by a stranger. She wanted to go as she lived—on her terms, at my side.”

They stopped in front of a smooth, white marble headstone, and Konrad went down to one knee. “Hello, beautiful girl.”

Jasper read the words inscribed on the marble. Anna Iversen. Below that it read, elskede datter og søster. He took a tentative step forward, feeling like he was intruding, even if Konrad had asked him to come. He recognized elskede as what Konrad called him but didn’t ask—it was hardly the time nor the place.

“This is Jasper. The one I told you about,” Konrad said, reclaiming Jasper’s hand to draw him closer.

Jasper’s eyes went hot, his throat tightening. The one I told you about. He knelt beside Konrad and gently laid the flowers in front of her headstone.

“It’s nice to meet you, Anna,” he whispered. He’d never visited anyone’s grave before. Would it be strange to introduce himself? He glanced to the side, at Konrad, at Anna’s earring catching the early light.

My name is Jasper Hayes, and I love your brother.

I can never replace you, but I promise I’ll try to take care of him.

He didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes, his hand resting atop her headstone, as if his thoughts could reach her. Jasper wasn’t sure if he believed in an afterlife. He believed everyone was made of energy, and that energy had to go somewhere when they died. Maybe into the earth to grow into flowers, maybe into the air to light up fireflies. He didn’t believe Anna would reincarnate but he thought perhaps her energy went on to help other things live—beautiful things, like her.

Konrad stood up and walked away.