I said, “Hey, Joe. Look at that bug.”
I said, “Hey, Joe. Are you hungry?”
I said, “Hey, Joe. Wanna hear a joke?”
I said, “Hey, Joe. Can you please say my name?”
But Joe never spoke.
“He’s been scooped out,” Kelly told me as Joe lay between us. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing deeply.
“Shut up,” I hissed at him, and I felt a twist of remorse when he flinched. “It’s not—he could hear you.”
“Sorry,” Kelly muttered, but before he could turn away, I grabbed his hand over Joe, laying it on Joe’s chest above his heart. I pressed down. I could feel the beat through Kelly’s hand. It was slow and steady.
“What do we do?” Kelly whispered.
“I don’t know,” I whispered back. “But we stay together. The three of us. No matter what.”
Kelly nodded.
He fell asleep before I did, his hand still on Joe’s chest.
I was about to follow when Joe’s heartbeat started tripping and stuttering. He made a wounded noise that sounded broken. I pressed Kelly’s hand down harder against his chest and put my mouth near his ear.
I said, “You’re here. We’re with you. You’re safe. You’re home. We won’t let anything happen to you again. We’re your big brothers. We’ll protect you. We’ll always be here for you. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
Joe’s heart slowed.
The lines on his forehead disappeared.
His mouth untwisted.
He sighed and turned his face toward me.
I watched him for a long time.
IT WENT LIKE THIS:
Boxes.
All these boxes.
As I stood among them, I heard voices coming from up the stairs.
And it was then I learned the sins of my father.
“Are you sure?” Mark asked Dad.
“Yes.”
“Have you…. Did you call Gordo?”
Dad sighed. “No.”
“He won’t like it that we’re coming back.”
“It’s not his territory,” Dad growled. Then, “Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”