His hair line has receded.  The grey patch above his ear had turned white. Silky yet maintaining its kink. For all his years he didn’t look worn. His cheeks took the form of an ironic smile. For a while, the darker part of my subconscious was jealous of him.

 

I had called this man my brother for more years than I had cared to remember.

 

I put my ears into the air,

 

Was it too quiet?

Was it noisy?

 

Should our meeting from since a while be more amiable?

 

I ignore his company and disappear into my head but come back quickly as it seems selfish. Jolene leaves us. Years of trying to rekindle our friendship had resulted in cautious wrinkles whenever we met.

 

He tries to laugh off the awkwardness of the moment. I don’t find anything amusing but I smile.

 

I travel again.

 

His purple cords came to mind first. He was going off on one of his rants. His can of beer hit the table, his chair screeched as he pulled his body forward.

 

‘Watching him play is a religious experience’

 

This child watched bemused at his madness.

 

‘These kids these days know nothing about honour, commitment…..nothing!’

 

 

Jolene is dusting furniture in the next room. She is nervous. How could we fall out at a time like this?

 

For the miles on the clock she was a bargain. She stood confidently on the driveway as though dirt should be beneath her feet.

His eyes ran across her sheen.

 

‘Is this the cost of hard work or your soul?’

 

He was unimpressed.

 

 

The dog chases some inanimate object in the yard. The silence echoes through the room. It is cold. Like being in a museum after hours. But the room is small. This mans legacy stands here. The wardrobe slants in the corner. The purple quilt worn from many beatings is sullen. The white blind tanned. The bed? A used to be sturdy expression of age.

 

They say the human body reduces in mass at the point of death. Religious groups say it is the point at which the soul leaves the body.

 

This man that was never my brother retracts into his bowels and for all the wrong reasons I am still mad at him.