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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

“You’re drunk.” She was very loud now.

“This will all go away,” he said. “It’ll be OK.”

“No,” she screamed, and put her forehead to the cool rifle barrel on her lap and rocked in the chair.

“It went away before,” he said, and walked to the chair and put his hand out to her. She screamed again and slapped him away.

“Goddamnit,” he said. “We can’t do this again. Look at me. Let me get you something. You’ll wake up Lyle.”

“Him too,” she said more quietly. “I’ve done it to him too. He’ll have this awful thing.”

“You haven’t done anything to anyone,” he said, “Lyle will be fine.”

“No!” she screamed again.

“You’re incoherent,” he said, and turned toward the kitchen.

“No,” she said, and hit his thigh with the barrel of the rifle.

“Stop it,” he said. “This is it.”

She was sobbing.

“I’m getting something to help you sleep,” he said.

She hit herself in the forehead with the barrel of the rifle. The veins on her neck stood out like living things. Her knuckles whitened on the gun. She hit herself in the face again and again with the steel barrel.

“Stop it,” he yelled. But she was still hitting herself with the gun. He reached to take it from her.

Lyle jumped in the air when it went off.

“No,” she screamed. “No,” And she was covered in blood and terrified and Lyle didn’t want to see any of it anymore and she screamed again and put the barrel in her mouth and Lyle ran down the stairs but he didn’t make it in time.

When Mike gets back to the roof with the water, Lyle has jumped.

PART III

Eventually, we all sustain injuries. Realizing this, Mike decided it was easier to speak to people who had never existed at all.

89

I have been away from normal life for a while, and like many people, I lost my family in the attack on New York City. My brother.

Grief is exactly that.

So what?

Grief isn’t passed down, generation to generation, with the genes. Do some genes bring grief? Do they have to? Is that what families are about? Experience. Luck.

There was family mythology, but I suspect there was a different family truth. Was my great grandfather really a swaggering forty-niner, or did he just go out there and steal shit? Were all the women in my mother’s family beautiful? I used to hear my father talk to my brother about his own mythology. Vietnam and all that. They went through joints like cigarettes. Casualties and orders and children and friendly fire, all half related in stupefied clouds of glassy smoke late at night. What a cliché, but there it was. The story keeps going.