Page 24 of Frosty Felicity
“Because a lot of people don’t. Ya don’t hear people chanting, ‘Fuck the Mechanics!’ or ‘Fuck the teachers, veterinarians, nurses, or library clerks!” now do you?”
Brett groaned and picked up another screw.
“If they don’t know you, then maybe they’re targeting you for something else?”
“Prank calls have existed since telephones were invented, Tim. It’s a pain in the ass, but there’s some software I can use that’ll help me find out who it is. See, with landlines, they’re easy to trace, but cellphones are totally different.”
“Right… right.”
“But there’s some stuff out there that can help. I’ll be taking care of it.”
“Police stuff, huh?”
“Yeah… police stuff.”
Brett could hear their father moving about in his living room, and then the television volume go up. Tim just sort of hovered, looking strange and distant. Brett kept working on the bookshelf. His brother of course didn’t offer to help, so he had space to think about his workday, and his conversation with Felicity earlier in the day. He smiled when he reflected on it. They’d been out on a second date, to the movies. They had a contest to see who could catch the most popcorn in their mouth. This led to touching… kissing… laughing… then more of the same. When he attempted to get a bit more intimate with her at the end of their date, she resisted, though he could sense she wanted him as much as he wanted her. The sexual tension between them was off the charts, but tempered with her sense of humor, his charm as she called it, and the great talks they were having.
“I, uh, I admire you, Brett. You have a dangerous job. I’m, uh, I’m glad you’re okay,” Tim stated, breaking into his train of thought.
“I admire you too, Tim. For fighting to spend more time with your kids.”
They turned quiet again, and then, his brother walked out of the room.
He paused, gripping the damn screwdriver. Staring down at the carpeted floor, he couldn’t recall the last time Tim had said something nice. Something kind. Something full of concern. Maybe that’s what it had been all along? The questions about the police, and comments that came off as uninformed and biased? Maybe Tim didn’t want him to get hurt, and the world to him was getting bigger, becoming a scary place. Brett slumped against the wall. Perhaps Tim was afraid he’d lose him, too…
Mortality had definitely entered their lives in a harsh, nasty way. Mom was gone, and that reality, the missing matriarch, the woman who’d kept the peace in the home, and the love and warmth flowing, had been snatched away in a blink of an eye. She’d been the buffer. The oil in the machine. The glue. She was the manners, the grace, the patience.
Now it was just him, Tim, and Dad.
Three men who’d known each other forever, and yet, sometimes, it seemed like they didn’t really know each other at all…
