“So, how’s work, Son?” his dad said in a cheerful voice. His dad, Alexander, was hard-nosed sometimes and playful like a monkey others. Sometimes, Dan couldn’t tell when his father was being critical or just silly. Still, his dad was a hardworking man, flawed, but good.
“Everything is fine at the office, as exciting as ever. The boss is gonna give me a monster raise, on account of all my amazing skills and all. Yep, she pretty much said I’m the best worker they ever had and that she wished she had ten more like me.” He finished his first beer and opened another. “Says I’ll be running the place before long … probably make more money than her one day. Heck, she says I should have her job. I could do it better, faster, and smarter.”
His dad was rolling his eyes and shaking his head. His slender forearms flipped, scraped, and sautéed the meat— adding oil here and pepper there—as the sweat began to trickle down his cheek. Dan kept on talking as his father continued his agreeable nods.
“She offered to marry me, too, but I had to tell her no on account of the fact that she’s black and I’m white and all.”
“Good, good …,” his dad said, tenderizing a plate of red meat.
“Of course, we do have to decide what to name our baby. He’s due in about eight more weeks, and we were hoping you and mom could help out, you know with the baby sitting while we're at work and all.”
“Sure, sure, uh-huh … ”
Dan didn’t even know why his father asked him questions. He never listened to the answers. Dan had made up more stories and got permission to do more devious things from conversations just like this. For the most part, if he wasn’t talking about bowling or grilling, Dad probably wasn’t paying attention.
Alexander stopped after he tossed the steaks on the grill.
Uh oh!
“Wait a minute,” his dad said in an aggravated voice, wiping his sweat on his “Kiss the Bowler,” apron that Dan’s grandmother had made.
“What, what is it, Dad?” he said, leaning forward in his chair, ready for a long-overdue tongue lashing. Did he actually hear what I said?
“We forgot the scallops! We forgot the DAMN SCALLOPS!”
“Oh dear,” he said, under his breath. His brother loved scallops. His brother was the only one that loved scallops. Sure, scallops are good, but they shouldn’t be anyone’s favorite.
“LOIS!” his dad said, throwing his apron to the ground and storming through the kitchen doors, “… did you forget the scallops?”
He could hear their raised voices. It was an argument, voices high, but not yelling. Instead, he could see them stomping around and waving their arms like they were missing the school bus. Their heads were like talking bobble head dolls.
Dan didn’t turn as he heard the spring on the fence gate groan, followed by the door rapping shut. Please don’t be here yet. Please don’t be here yet. Someone tossed a brick of something wrapped in white butcher paper on the table of his father’s feast. The sound of glass bottles clinking inside a paper bag was music to his ears. A reassuring voice spoke.
“Hey, Boy, little brother looking for his scallops yet?” the man said, as he sat down in the Adirondack beside him. Dan extended his hand, laughing.
“Man, I didn’t know you were coming, Lou!”
“Uncle Lou, Boy,” he said, squeezing his hand with a grip of steel. Dan’s uncle was stocky, with a head of short wavy black hair, going gray. He was tanned, naturally, from outside work, eyes blue and intent, nails and moustache trimmed to perfection. The smell of musky after-shave drifted in the air. The older man sported pressed khaki shorts, a crisp golfing shirt, and a rope of gold dangling over the hairs of his chest.
“So, let me guess … they begged you to come and see the prodigy,” Dan said, handing his uncle a beer.
“Thanks, but not too many of these; I’m driving.”
“Me too,” he said, as they clinked their bottles together and started gulping. Dan won.
“Here, try one of mine,” his uncle said.
Dan’s uncle finished the second round first, tossed the bottle into the lined garbage can, and eased back into the chair.
“Now, what were you saying … oh yeah-yeah … They begged me. They know how much I don’t like to come over now that Dad’s gone. It always feels,” Uncle Lou looked up into the clouds, “like … not right ... something’s missing. But heck, at least my favorite nephew is here.”
He liked his uncle. He was the in-control version of his dad. Nothing flustered Uncle Lou, who was much more like his grandfather than the rest. Uncle Lou seemed to be the one hurt the most when his grandfather died not so long ago. Dan was thrilled to have him there, though. If anyone could fill the void, it was Lou.
“So, you getting any action?” Uncle Lou said.
“Not on Sundays.”
They laughed as they pulled the tops off another beer. It was just the kind of medicine they needed on a radiant day like this.
“So, whaddaya think your little brother's up to this time?” Uncle Lou asked.
“It’s something different every time.”
“You know, your grandfather never really liked your brother,” Lou said, leaning over and lowering his voice. “Did I ever tell you what he used to say?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. He did know, but he just loved to hear the story. He knew Uncle Lou loved telling it, too.
His grandfather, Alexander Sr., was gruff toward his brother, downright callous. Grandfather gave his brother shit all the time, but his brother always came back for more. He never knew why his grandfather didn’t like his brother, except for the obvious reasons, but he never understood his coldness. It seemed unnatural for such a polished and personable man to be border-line cruel to a child. He wondered if his father and uncle were raised like that, or if his brother was truly special.
“He used to say your brother was the kind of person that would make a person want to kill themselves rather than spend thirty minutes talking to him. No, wait a minute … He said he was the kinda person you would want to kill after talking to him thirty minutes.”
Dan started laughing, but his uncle continued.
“Hell, I forget. Anyway, Dad said he’d seen boys like that—when he was a kid—and they’d never stopped coming. They had one thing in mind … themselves. He said you could kick them in the ass a thousand times, but if you had something they wanted, they’d be back.”
Lou tilted back the bottle of dark ale, gulped, and wiped his mouth on his forearm.
“Sure, yer grandpa was tough on him, trying to teach the boy you could go in other directions and at different speeds. But that boy rides on the railroad, one way, one speed … fast.”
Dan kept grinning as he pulled the top off another beer and handed it over. His uncle’s voice was deep and soothing like his grandfather's. He slapped his uncle on the shoulder and said, “It’s not too late to slip back out of here.”
His uncle grabbed him by the wrist and said, “No, it’s family, and us normal ones got to stick together.”
“And drink together,” he said, as they tapped bottle necks.
His father came rushing back through the doors and noticed the packet of scallops on the table. He dropped his arms by his sides, saying, “You finally show up with the scallops! You could have called if you were gonna be late, Lou!”
“I’m here. Don’t have a heart attack. I had to go all the way down to Piper’s to get those, you know. I don’t suppose you could have just settled for hamburgers and hotdogs like Dad used to do?”
Alex shook his head and continued with the preparations while Dan and Lou sat in the shade and watched. He could see the frustration in both his father’s and uncle’s faces. Grandfather was the Hemingway of hamburgers and hotdogs; at least that was what he would say, and Dan could almost taste them while thinking about them.
Uncle Lou slunk back in his chair and sipped in the shade. Dan was leaning fo
rward, watching his father drop the frozen block of scallops on the grill, cursing. He shook his head. All of this over his brother: serving the only seafood his brother liked and that the rest of them didn’t care for.
Uncle Lou got up and sauntered over to the grill.
“What are those?” he said, pointing to a packet of hotdogs on the table. He picked up a pack of meat. “And what is this?”
His father whirled at his uncle and said, “They’re hamburgers and hotdogs, you idiot! Now put them down.”
“Those aren’t hamburgers and hotdogs! I’ve never eaten a hamburger or hotdog with the word 'turkey' in it!”
“Then you can eat a steak!”
“I don’t want a steak; I want a hot damn dog and a ham damn burger with beef in it! Dad would never put this shit on a picnic table. He’d kill someone first.”
The two men were eye to eye, cheeks turning red, shoulders pulled back, and chests out. Dan hadn’t ever seen his uncle so upset before. He started to get up.
“Sit down!” his dad said.
Dan did so, feeling awkward and uncertain. The ice was starting to break over things that needed to be said that had been bottled up for months.
“Now, you bring your own food to the cookout next time. I’m not eating any of that heart-clogging crap.”
Ah, Dan thought, Grandpa’s heart attack has sunk in on Dad.
“It’s tradition—Alex!” His uncle said, slinging the turkey dogs into the trash.
“Traditions change!”
They were nose to nose now. Dan sat with the balls of his feet pressing into the ground. Are they gonna throw down?
“Traditions don’t change; people like you change them! Why? Look around, Alex. No one’s coming for tuna steaks and turkey dogs.”
His dad became silent for a moment. He could see shame sag in his face, but his gray eyes brightened up again. He shoved by his brother and got back to work.
“This isn’t for you; it’s for my son … your nephew! He wanted these things. He knows all about good health and all. It’s not going to kill anybody to try something new every once in a while.”
“Ah … piss on that,” his uncle said, sitting back down in his chair with a huff. “I guess I’ll eat steak.”
“Tuna steak,” Alex corrected.
Dan looked at his uncle. He swore his head was about to burst as a rosy color began to emerge underneath his tanned skin. His uncle started to rise back out of his chair. His father stood between them and the grill, wielding a metal spatula like a gladiator.
His uncle’s voice had a murderous intent as he started to say, “I’m gonna—”
“Hey everybody, looks who's back. It’s me!”
Dan turned to look at the source of the pushy voice. They all did. His bottle of beer slipped through his fingers, landed on the grass, and toppled over. He, his father, and his uncle gawped at the sight of his brother … Cooper.
CHAPTER 3
Dan looked at his uncle, who was looking at him. They both turned back to face his brother, Cooper, eyes passing over his dad, who looked like he’d seen something he had never seen before.
There stood his brother, his brown hair cut in a flat top. His sideburns were thick and stretched down to a goatee on his chin. For some odd reason it made Dan think of a monkey's butt. A moustache would have helped; it would have helped a lot, but that wasn’t what left him momentarily breathless in his chair. His brother was at least forty pounds heavier. It wasn’t the kind of weight that looked bad, though. No, it was the other kind. Where most people gained rolls of fat and extra chins, Cooper had gained corded arms, rising veins, and shoulder muscles up to his earlobes. Of all the things his brother had done for attention, Dan never expected this.
In less than a year and a half, Cooper had become a hulk in trendy spandex sports gear, matching shoes and all. He was two hundred twenty pounds of muscle, packed into a five-foot-seven-inch frame. Dan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He really wanted to laugh, though.
“S-son,” his dad said, “y-you look great! Wow! Look at you!” His dad squeezed Cooper’s arms. “Dan, look at your brother … just look at your brother. He looks like Hercules!”
It might have been true if his father didn’t stand half a foot taller than his smirking brother.
Cooper gave Alex a stiff hug.
“You don’t look so bad yourself, Dad. Check it out.” Cooper handed over a brown paper bag to their dad.
“Hey, that’s heavy. Are those the vitamins you were telling me about?” Alex clenched his fist and flexed his arm. “Man, I want to be a powerhouse like you.”
“Hey Dad, you just gotta hit the gym, throw the weight around. I’ve got all kinds of stuff I’m gonna show you and mom while we’re in town.”
Dan cocked his head and whispered to Uncle Lou, "We’re? Is he talking about another person or his new family of bulging biceps and pectorals?"
Uncle Lou snorted beer out his nose, laughing.
Fortunately, Alex was too busy talking to Cooper to notice.
“I can’t wait, Coop. Say, how much do I owe you for the vitamins?” Alex said, reaching for his wallet.
Cooper made one of those inverted hug gestures and said, “Dad, I can’t charge you full price. Normally, those pills run about five hundred, but I’m a manufacturer's rep, so no retail for you, just two-fifty.”
His dad stuffed his wallet back into his pants.
“Uh … let me go get my checkbook,” he said, disappearing through the kitchen door.
Dan was standing without realizing it. Jackass. Still, he managed a semi-smile.
“Wow Cooper, you’ve been here all of five minutes and managed to make a profit already.”
“Hey, good one, Bro,” his brother said, wrapping his arms around him and practically squeezing the piss out of him as he lifted him off the ground.
Cooper let go and headed over to Uncle Lou, arms wide. Lou stuck his hand out and said, “Good to see you, Cooper. I hardly recognized you with all those muscles and all.”
“Well, let me tell you, hitting the gym has changed my life. It’s all dedication, passion, hard work —”
“And steroids,” Dan interjected.
Cooper turned back toward him in a huff, his shifty voice beginning to rise.
“You always got some wisecrack don’tcha, Dan. It used to bother me, but I’ve grown up … unlike you.” Cooper turned his back on him. “Anyhow Lou, I’m all natural. Turns out, this weightlifting, bodybuilding, and cross training is what I was created to do. I’ve got over thirty clients now, and I’d have more if had the time.”
“I always thought you wanted to be a veterinarian, Cooper?” Lou said, winking back at Dan.
Dan said, “You mean jockey. I think he’s a little too wide to be a jockey now, though. Well, then it was a policeman, a landscape architect, a pharmaceutical rep...”
“Shut up, Dan!”
He could see the nostrils flaring over the blue snakes in his brother’s neck.
“I got a good gig; I get paid serious cash. What do you do, Mister Inventor? Nothing.”
“I have a real job.”
“Oh … that’s right, and I don’t. Why can’t you just say, ‘Hi Cooper. It’s good to see you. Glad things are working out'? Would it kill you?”
They were toe to toe, one a tall lean antagonizer and the other a knotted log of anger. Dan could feel his brother snorting air on his chest.
“Because it’s always a new facade with you, that's why. You come in here, pinch Dad for easy cash, and pretend you’re a health and fitness expert. Taking horse pills doesn’t make you a fitness expert. It makes you a jackass.”
“I’m not taking steroids! It’s natural—you just can’t stand it, seeing me do good at something. You’re always trying to beat me down.”
“You were born beat down.”
Cooper stuck his finger up in his face.
&
nbsp; “You better watch it. I don’t want to knock you out, but I will.”
“What? Knock me out? Are you kidding me? I’ve beaten you senseless countless times. You’d think you’d have learned your lesson by now.”
“Get the gloves!”
“What? You can’t be serious.”
“Chicken shit!”
“Alright, alright fine, then!”
Uncle Lou emerged with a two sets of dark brown boxing gloves that looked like they had been hanging in the garage for a century. It didn’t take more than five minutes to lace them up and slide them on. The brothers squared off for the fight of the century.
Uncle Lou sounded like a ref of thirty years as he said, “Gloves only, no low blows. I’m giving you three minutes to beat the holy crap outta each other and that’s it. Agreed?”
They both nodded just as their parents emerged from the kitchen door.
“What in the world is going on here? We’re getting ready to eat!” his mother cried.
Alex remarked, “Honey, Honey, it’s alright. Cooper is just showing his brother some of those cross-training moves, I bet. Isn’t it great to see them playing together? It’s like a training demo, right Coop?”
“Right, Dad!” Cooper said with a snarl.
“Oh, well I guess it will only work up their appetites,” she said, setting down a spinach casserole.
“On my signal boys, and remember the rules.”
Dan raised his gloves as Cooper hunkered down; his tattooed arms looked like ripening melons ready to burst. He could see the fire behind his brother’s beady little eyes.
Uncle Lou dropped his hand between them and said, “Fight!”
Whap! Whap! Whap!
It was just like slap boxing when they were kids. Cooper could never keep up and would end up getting mad and running away with red marks all over his face.
Whap! Whap! Whap!
Cooper’s swings were as slow and clumsy as ever, maybe worse. He kept coming, though.
Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!
“I thought cross training made you fast. Quicker. Come on, Coop, show me what you got,” Dan said, shifting and dancing away from his brother’s flailing blows. His brother wasn’t saying anything, though, only answering by throwing one wild punch after another.
Jab! Jab! Jab! Punch! Man, his head’s still hard as a rock.