BooksBarbecue
Back The Third Brother Save as PDF
Chapters (116)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by the Author
  3. The Third Brother
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. PART I
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. PART II
  67. 60
  68. 61
  69. 62
  70. 63
  71. 64
  72. 65
  73. 66
  74. 67
  75. 68
  76. 69
  77. 70
  78. 71
  79. 72
  80. 73
  81. 74
  82. 75
  83. 76
  84. 77
  85. 78
  86. 79
  87. 80
  88. 81
  89. 82
  90. 83
  91. 84
  92. 85
  93. 86
  94. 87
  95. 88
  96. PART III
  97. 89
  98. 90
  99. 91
  100. 92
  101. 93
  102. 94
  103. 95
  104. 96
  105. 97
  106. 98
  107. 99
  108. 100
  109. 101
  110. 102
  111. 103
  112. 104
  113. 105
  114. 106
  115. 107
  116. 108

I cut right to it. I knew what he was looking for. New Englander, white hair, a grandfather, an intellectual, he genuinely wanted to help. He thought that with sensible discussion and growing one’ own tomatoes and crisp weather and long walks in the woods and a nice woman and study and a glass of wine, anything can be rectified.

“Yes,” he said, “I noticed you seemed a little uneasy leaving the service. It’s a cliché, you know, but this is a hard time of year. Gets to everyone.”

“I guess you know my deal,” I said to him.

“No, I just thought . . .” He’s kind and forgiving and takes off his square spectacles.

“I didn’t come here to spill.”

“No, I just thought we might have a coffee. I quite enjoyed having you in the class.”

“I didn’t talk much.” I couldn’t believe he didn’t know.

“You didn’t have to,” he said. “Shall we go get a coffee?”

“Feels like everybody knows.”

* * *

I could have told him that I fucked a hooker and got her killed in Thailand. I could have told him my mother killed my father and then killed herself. I could have told him my brother set our house on fire. I could have told him that my parents perished in that fire. I could have told him that my brother died on 9/11 in New York. I could have told him that I was terrified, that, like original man climbing down from the trees some moony night, I was afraid my mind was betraying me and there were creatures waiting for me out there in the darkness. I could have told him that I hear a voice and see a girl carrying a baby on a motorcycle.

He nodded, agreeing.

I was about to lie maliciously and I felt bile in my mouth and my temples tightened and I let myself get into it. Somehow it was making me feel better.

“My girlfriend was pregnant,” is what I said to him, “and then she died in a motorcycle accident.

His fingers were together and his eyes closed for a moment.

I let that hang for only a second and then, as if I had the strength not to linger on it, I said, “Yeah, I’ve been talking to my parents and they’ve been taking care of me and especially my brother has been great, you know, my best friend. I just didn’t feel like seeing them this break so I stayed here and maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I’ll still go home.”

Kindly Dr. Hunt swallowed the whole thing. I felt better and he didn’t try to tell me anything. We walked out into the cold sunshine and he bought me a coffee and we talked about books for a little while. Then we wished each other Merry Christmas and he said he was looking forward to reading my essay.