My Brother Returns Pt. 01

** All characters and scenarios depicted in this story are entirely fictional **

My oldest brother Zachary hadn't always been odd. In fact, my first memories of him were positive and fond. He was bright, inquisitive, and playful; he treated me kindly, and I thoroughly enjoyed spending time with him. I can't tell if things happened to him, or because of him, but regardless life became difficult for Zachary. His hardships seemed to write themselves on his face, and he grew up to look stronger because of them. With a prominent brow ridge and deep set, brown eyes that perpetually looked like they were scrutinizing you, I could see the strength he built in his soul. Or perhaps, it wasn't strength but something more sinister. In the way that Zachary dressed, and maybe even carried himself, there seemed to be a looming shadow. He was tall, with a strong, lean build, and I always paid particular attention to his hands. He didn't work with his hands, but exercised often weathering the skin on his palms which were accentuated by the long veins that ran up along from his fingers to his forearms.

When he spoke- it was a husky, thunderous voice. His jokes, though annoying and antagonistic, I grew to accept that. I didn't like him generally as a person, but I loved my older brother. In between moments of sibling rivalry or tension, I had been drawn to him. It was the smirk of a slightly crooked smile after a prank that made me forgive his annoying demeanor, or the melancholy darkness in his face that made me think perhaps I should be softer with him.

After Zachary had turned seventeen, he'd become very rebellious. It was tedious making excuses for his disappearance late at night, with whom he kept company, or why his countenance was cold and glassy. One October night, when the cold, dry air rapped on my bedroom window and howled in the distance, I heard his heavy footsteps stop at my door. Without introduction or warning the door opened :

"Hi." Zachary spoke softly.

"What do you need? I'm kind of busy, can't you see I'm doing my nails." I retorted. I had felt short with him for not knocking before entering.

"I have two eyes, I can see." He hissed in a low register.

"- Suppose, I need you to cover for me tonight. Do you mind?" Zachary asked. I was quite sure had he not needed a favor he'd have knocked something on the floor to mess with me.

"Again??? This is the 4th time this month! Lisa's gonna kill you, and my dad can tell when I'm lying to cover for you." I was exasperated. He'd go have the fun and I had to eat the cost of covering for him.

"C'mon sis, you'd know I'd take you with me but highschool freshmen aren't allowed."

"You're such a dick! Can't you have someone else cover for you? I don't even want to go to your stupid party."

Zachary edged up closer to the bed. He was dressed casually in in his black tee shirt that sat tightly around his biceps. A singular blue vein ran down his white skin like a flowing river and disappeared with his hand into his grey pocket. His dark brown hair looked black in the low light and he starred at me through his brow. I couldn't read his expression- was it sinister or dissatisfied? A firm hand gripped the banister of my bed, suggesting a threat. I could feel my eyes grow wide with fear, but then a thought presented itself.

"I haven't spent time with you in a while. You go to parties and have fun, but forget about me. When is the last time you made time to hang out with me?" I pleaded innocently. Though Zachary had never hurt me, it seemed from his posture the thought loomed behind his eyes. His grasp on the banister softened, and his brow dropped to express sympathy.

"Awww do you miss me?" Zachary teased. Moments of genuine tenderness were far and few between, instead he filled them with banter and teasing. In a fluid motion he jumped on my bed and stretched out with cat like agility, resting his hands behind his head.

"Can't a guy in his prime have fun?" he asked playfully.

"Yeah, but I miss just hanging out with you."

"Hmm" he muttered out pensively.

"Look, lets make a deal. I made this promise to see this girl tonight, cover for me, and then on Saturday we'll do what you want." there was no hint of mockery or falsehood in his voice. I curled beside him. My wet hair clung to the side of my pale face, and rested my cheek on his chest. He didn't seem to mind the imprint of wet hair on his shirt. With a relaxed posture, he toyed with my honey hair.

"Ok," I muttered softly, "What do you want me to say to Lisa?"

"Tell her-," he paused pensively staring at my leg that wrapped around his, "tell her that I left going to Joey's house. He wants to work on a chemistry project. Add that you tried calling me and couldn't reach me because I left my phone here."

"Ma won't be mad at you, and she won't be able to reach me. When I come home, I'll tell her I lost track of time. Joey is my ride home anyway, so it will be plausible."

I chose not to speak for I had already agreed. Instead, I rested my head on his chest in silence for what seemed like an eternity. He tensed beneath but did not shy away, until he looked at the clock on my nightstand and stood. He planted a small, gentle kiss on my forehead, grabbed his grey sweater and took leave.

His strong figure disappeared along the block as I watched him from my window. It was then for a moment that he turned back and looked in my direction with a contorted expression I understood but I could not speak of out loud.

Saturday never came.