Frank stared at his saxophone case on the opposite wall. I could almost hear his wheels turning. He closed his eyes, took a long, deep breath, and shook his head.
“Why?” I said. “There’s room here. I can sleep on the floor.”
“Sleep on the floor …” Frank turned to look directly at me. “Johnny, you don’t understand. I can’t take care of you. I can just about take care of myself. Besides, even if I could, the old man wouldn’t have it.”
“First he’s gotta find us, no?”
Frank snorted. “Are you kidding? If he knew you were with me, he’d send bloodhounds looking for us.”
“C’mon, Frankie. I won’t be any trouble. I promise.”
“Oh God.” Frank rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I knew this wasn’t gonna be easy.” He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. “Johnny, listen to me. I asked you to come here so I could talk to you man to man.” His face was gripped with concern, and for a moment I thought he was going to tell me something shattering like he had cancer.
“What is it?”
“I enlisted in the army.”
“Whaddaya mean? You mean like the real army? The army army?”
“No, dummy. The fake army.”
“When?”
“Last week. I just got my papers. I’ll be shipping out from Fort Dix in two weeks.”
“How long you gonna be away?”
“A couple months. I signed up with the reserves. I have to do eight weeks of basic training, and then serve one weekend a month for five years and a few weeks in the summer.”
“Five years. Holy shit.” I stared at the floor, trying to imagine what it would be like not having my brother around.
“What can I say?” Frank said. “It’s a drag, but for now that’s the way it’s gotta be.”
He got up and leaned against the dresser, chugging juice from the carton. My chest grew heavy, and tears welled up in my eyes, but I didn’t want him to see me cry. I looked away and noticed his torn copy of Brave New World on the nightstand next to the bed. The front cover was partially open, and through blurred eyes I spotted Gordon’s inscription: Good luck on your journey! But what was my journey?
I looked at Frank. His face was expressionless. He took another swig of juice and shrugged, his eyes staring right through me.
An earlier version of this story is featured in
Willesden Herald’s New Short Stories Series (UK).