He turned back to the medicine cabinet. Of the remaining bottles, one caught his eye because its name wasn’t some foreign alien-sounding title; this one was a household word throughout America. He seized the bottle, opened it.
“
He bent toward her. “God loves you, but you make me sick.”
He stepped over her and went to the door where Stephanie was pounding more furiously and really insisting she was going to call the police. He moved the dresser with ease and swung open the door. Stephanie almost collapsed into him.
“
“Just gave her her medicine.”
Then Stephanie was in the bathroom crying over her sister and Anthony was on his way to the garage.
3
Brendan barely slept Thursday night. Dad hadn’t come home. Tyler had done something terrible with Paul. Mostly, though, Brendan was too anxious to find out why Dwayne had been so shocked when Brendan told him the girl’s name. Sasha Karras. Dwayne said he couldn’t tell him over the phone, that he would be by the following day, Friday; Brendan had to wait for his signal. So, Brendan went through his usual morning routine, no longer concerned with pleasing the gods but eager to please Dwayne. Greasy hair and sweaty clothes would not do. Ellis and Dwayne would be in their suits, so Brendan had to look the role as well.
He was sitting alone at the kitchen table waiting for the signal when Dr. Carroll arrived. The earliest glimmer of morning sun flickered between the vertical blinds in front of the door leading to the deck. There was no bacon and eggs (cooked in grease) breakfast today—cereal as usual for a school day. There was no school today, anyway, not that Brendan would be going if there was. And no Pilly Billie, either, though he knew where the bottle was.
Tyler was asleep—he had come home quite late, returning in Paul’s car and gone straight to bed with no more phone calls. He hadn’t been wearing shoes or a shirt. Stephanie was with Mom in his parents’ bedroom. There had been lots of crying last night, screaming too. Dad had done most of the screaming before he drove off in Mom’s car somewhere. Maybe God had a plan for him, too. Hopefully, God was keeping him safe.
Brendan slowly stirred his spoon through the milk and remaining pieces of Captain Crunch, which had started to disintegrate like tiny corpses in a muddy pool. When the doorbell chimed, Brendan almost fell out of his chair. It wasn’t the pre-determined signal but maybe Dwayne had changed his mind. He ran down the steps and swung open the door.
“Hello, son.”
Dr. Carroll was shorter than Dad and thinner. His face drooped forward as if made of melting play-dough; his white-and-black speckled beard did nothing to conceal his falling chin, which might eventually meld with his neck. The hair on his head was a spray-painted black mop. Large glasses framed his eyes in black plastic squares. Brendan had only seen him a handful of times, but every time Dr. Carroll wore the same thing: brown khakis that puffed out under his waist like clown pants and a dark blue dress shirt with a blue and pink flower print tie that dangled past his belt buckle.
Brendan nodded but said nothing. Dr. Carroll smiled, revealing slightly yellowed but perfectly aligned tiny teeth that ended in almost-points as if he’d filed them.
“Your aunt called me,” he said in a nasally voice. It was the voice nerds used in the movies. “May I speak with her?”
“I guess,” Brendan said and stepped back to let Dr. Carroll in.
He entered, touched Brendan’s shoulder. Brendan forced himself to not shrink away. “How are you, son? This has been a traumatic time. Do you feel down?”
The man’s eyes twitched when he spoke. Perhaps it was the centipede fighting to come out. Brendan shook his head, said he was fine thank you.
“If you ever need anything, someone to talk to, don’t hesitate. You don’t need to be tough in times likes these. You need to grieve. It’s a natural process. You must let your guard down. I know that can be scary, but I can help you through it. I have things that can help.”
“Drugs?”
Dr. Carroll pushed his glasses up his nose. “How’s your mother?”
He shrugged. “I don’t see her much.”
“And your father?”
“You should ask him.”
Dr. Carroll nodded, flashed those teeth which had gotten pointier still, and made his way up the stairs in squeaky shoes. He was soon down the hall and knocking on Brendan’s parents’ door. A moment later, the door opened and shut and Aunt Steph said, “Oh, thank God.”
What was Dr. Carroll going to do? It was probably messy whatever it was and Brendan had no time right now for more messiness. One cleanup job at a time.
He returned to the kitchen.
What would Dwayne say once he finally gave the signal? What was the plan going to be? No matter what it was, Brendan would help Dwayne any way he could. He had to protect his brother, had to keep him safe. If something horrible happened to Tyler too then there would be no purpose to anything anymore. Brendan would best serve the world by checking out of it. But that’s not what God had in mind. Dwayne and Ellis had told him how special he was, how God had touched him, marked him for unique accomplishments. This would be the first of many wonderful experiences in the name of God.
“What’re you doing?” Tyler stood in the kitchen doorway. He wore jeans and a brown T-shirt. His hair stood up along the side of his head as if that part of his scalp had been electrified.
“Nothing.”
“Who’s here?”
“Dr. Carroll.”
“Really?” Something like a cloud past over Tyler’s face.
“Helping Mom, I guess.”
Tyler was gazing off into the corner of the kitchen. He was thinking something over. “You came home late.”
The cloud past abruptly. “You were waiting for me?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Spying on me?”
“What happened with that girl?”
Tyler glanced down the hallway and then turned back and spoke to Brendan in a whisper, leaning his body toward him. “I never should have told you anything. I know you really want to help but you can’t. You need to let me handle it, okay?”
“What if I can help?”
“Brendan, I love you, I do, but you’re too young for this shit.”
“I know her name is Sasha Karras.”
Tyler clenched his jaw for a moment. He knelt before Brendan and grabbed the chair by both arms. There was something on his hand, something written. “Did you go through my stuff to find that out?”
“I can help,” he said. “I know you don’t believe me, but I have ways.”
“This isn’t one of your stories. This is some truly demented shit. You need to stay back, for your own good. Okay?”
Brendan nodded. Tyler would never be convinced, maybe not even after he and Dwayne took care of the problem entirely. That was fine. Brendan didn’t need credit; he just wanted his brother to know that he cared about him.
