Brendan Dude

A couple years ago, as soon as Joey turned against David for some reason, he suddenly demanded to sleep in a separate room from David. Prior to that, they shared a room and actually acted like brothers should act. David would kick the ass of any kid who talked bad about Joey and vice versa. If that ain’t love, then I don’t know what love is.

But since he spoke with a tongue so sharp and threats so dangerous, probably a side effect of the shit he did, Mom and Dad let David move into my room with me. I didn’t mind. David was a sweet kid, high or not. When he got mad, it was scary, though. I didn’t want to piss him off since I’d seen the fights he got into with Joey, so I avoided backtalk and hitting him. It was kinda weird though, since he never pissed me off in the first place.

Sharing a room would have been a living shit hole if I was with Joey, but David was a different story. Sometimes he’d come in at like 2 AM, drunk as hell, and pass out on the bed, though it wasn’t too bad. I didn’t care.

The next week was pretty normal…school, homework, sleep, eat, bathroom. Ritual. Plaster Caster was prepping for our encore talent show performance, but it was no big deal. Just another day in the life…

Wednesday brought something new.

I was fast asleep through midnight and so was David. At least, I think – you can’t remember for crap when you’re snoozing.

At around one AM, we heard the front door to the house open and slam shut swiftly. It wasn’t Mom or Dad; they were sleeping in a room opposite to the front door. And it wasn’t a burglar; Fireside was far from a ghetto.

The slam woke both of us up – me more slowly. David had sat up right away and whispered harshly, “What the fuck was that?”

His voice woke me up fully. I mumbled something and rolled over, squinting to see him since the room was pitch black. He was looking at me with tired eyes, obviously half-asleep, still concerned. He shuffled some then lifted the blankets off his body, standing up to venture out of our room. More noise came from outside. Muttering. Cursing. Coughing.

David turned the lamp on. The light hurt, but it got me more aware in case I had to run for my life.

“I’m goin’ out,” he whispered, “Stay back, bro.”

And then he walked out.

There was a brief silence, but when the hall light came on, some voices rose loud enough for me to hear.

“Joey?! Christ! I thought you were a murderer or something,” David gasped.

“Fuck off…man, where’th the baffroom?…ugh…”

Thud. I’d bet Joey pushed his older brother away as he hit the wall.

“Right here, man…here.”

Another light came on as the bathroom door swung open.

Gagging for a while. Someone probably had his head in the toilet. There was a brief instance where David was shushing Joey, possible sitting on the edge of the bathtub and maybe holding his hair back. I don’t know. There was this vibe…

“You are fucking wasted, bro…”

More gagging, and this time, plopping as if there was stuff hitting the water. I got a little woozy thinking of the possible sights, but I wasn’t too surprised – Joey puked way more than a normal person should. Normally when it happened, he was piss drunk.

“Fuck off!” Joey choked. “I don’t…I don’t need you here…”

“You’re pukin’ out blood, man. I gotta be here in case you get a seizure or some shit and die or something.”

More coughing and heaving, but less intense than before.

Joey was sobbing, still choking on his breath, mumbling something. His head was still probably in the porcelain throne.

“Fuck…fuck…it hurts…”

“Shhh…”

I couldn’t really picture them doing anything other than arguing. I could have sworn it was a dream.

Joey’s coughs spaced out further between each other, the sound of solids hitting liquids growing quieter.

“Relax,” David shushed, “shh…”

Joey sobbed. “Fuck…it hurts…God…”

There was a brief moment of silence in the house, the light seeping through the door, twisting and morphing according to my brothers’ actions.

Coughing.

“Ugh…God. I’m done.” The toilet flushed. “Nasty.”

“You got blood all over your face, man. I’ll getcha a towel.”

The water ran for a second, then stopped.

“Hold still, idiot.”

“Noooo, the water’s cold…”

I couldn’t stop a smile from surfacing. This could not be real.

I heard David sigh as if in defeat. “Man, you are fucked up.”

“Then leave me alone, jeez…”

“I’m not gonna lay back when you’re pukin’ up blood with red eyes.”

“Uh.”

“…What did you do, anyway?”

“Uh? Do wha?”

“Did you drink?”

“Uh…yah. Yeh. I did thah.”

“And what else?”

“Wha?”

“…What else d’you do?”

“Nothin’. I…nothin’, man.”

“You smoked.”

“Uh uh. Nuh, I din’t do thah.”

“Then you…oh, fuck…Joey…J-Joe…no. No. Don’t tell me. Let me see your arms. C’mon, sleeves up….Ho…holy…No. No!”

Silence.

David’s voice was the loudest in the house. “Joey?! Answer me! Did you…?!”

“Uh…”

“There’s a goddamn reason why there are marks on your arms. You fuckin’…you idiot!…God…damn it…Listen: Joey, you don’t wanna go there. It fucks you up bad. And it’s a bitch to quit. I’ve seen horrible things.”

More sobbing. I couldn’t tell if it was David or Joey or both.

“I…I’m sorry, man…juz…”

“Don’t do it, Joey…please…”

Yeah. Both of them were crying.

“Why the fuh d’you care anyways?” Joey slurred.

David had sighed. “’Cause…just ‘cause.”

“Buh you hate me.”

Joey’s speech was muffled. Dunno why.

“No,” David whispered, “I don’t.”

Joey mumbled something else, but I couldn’t hear him.

“You’re my brother, man. I can’t hate you.”