One of Us Chapter Three

Not as confident about this chapter, so very open to feedback.

His eyes stared into the abyss, one arm hanging from the twin mattress he was propped upon, fingers resting upon the floor awaiting the cold approach of morning. Whether he retired with the sun or descended into sleep at its rising, the engine of flesh and blood shifted into drive before his alarm clock sounded. The darkness stared at his cracked eyes powdered with fatigue. No matter how much he wanted to sleep in, years of unscheduled interruption would create new circadian rhythms, a souvenir he would carry with him from years ablaze.

The shower in the bathroom roared on. Darius is up. Now, if Darius is already up that means it’s four forty… two? David panned to the alarm clock slowly, with speed found only in horror movies with the monster’s reveal.

4:45.

Late start, huh Darius?

Come on Dave. Feet on the floor.  Darius would thrash him otherwise. Overcoming his body’s urge to sink into the bed, his feet rested upon the dark carpet. He touched his chest and core. Dally and Kid really did a good job. It doesn’t even feel like I fought last night. Standing into a stretch, he then fell into a push up, and began the ritual of doing reps until failure. Then he stood up and began to squat. The sound of water stopped from the bathroom, as David looked towards the door.

Darius had this interesting ability to take a five- minute blazing-hot shower. David could never understand it. If need be, Darius could get ready in ten minutes for anything, and yet when he stepped out of the shower, you knew he was clean. David needed to be ready to hop in the bathroom in 5 minutes. He got on his back using the creaking open of the door as a timer. Just as he lost count, the door opened and the word “Water” floated from the smoky bathroom as if a shaman were trying to summon a goddess.

David then looked over while crunching and said, “What?”

Darius stepped from the steam, “A soldier’s biggest enemy is dehydration. If you didn’t drink any before bed, please try to get some water in you when you’re in the bathroom.” David saw his older brother’s scar. He could never shake the sight of it.. It was quite ugly. Anyone drawn to the aesthetics of scars didn’t see the one in Darius’ chest. The person who created it was no artist, but a butcher, treating his flesh no better than a swine too small for the litter. Running from the top of his right shoulder to the bottom of his pec, his scarring resembled two thin brown sausages forming a pair of lips. Regardless of how long it had been, it still looked like the wound hurt. 

The other markings on his torso reflected his experience with combat, but the centerpiece on his chest reflected his trauma. Someone truly wanted to hurt him. Not kill him, but hurt him. Beneath the scarring, lay shiny brown marble, not easily cracked. People tried.

“Yeah, yeah,” David replied, choosing to ignore Darius’ paternalism this morning. He then rose from the floor, stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.

David and Darius were very different finished products as they completed their morning routines. David would wear anything to school. It was Darius’ guidance that often prevented David from putting on clothes he wore in fights the night before. However, today, the younger donned dark blue jeans with a faded comic book shirt, where the hero on the front of it long met their demise from washer erosion. The black sneakers were worn, but fashionable, dried blood blended into the soles. 

David made fun of Darius for the clothes he wore, making at least one joke a week about how Darius was “the only nigga that he knew that wore a uniform when it wasn’t required. Through David’s eyes, anything that had a collar or could be construed to be an outfit for a job interview would be categorized in such a way. Bringing his hands to has face as if he would pray, David spoke to his brother, “Once, just once Darius. We’ve got to switch outfits before the year is over.”

Without looking at his brother, he lifted a bag and threw it on his back. “Helllllll no. Bro, is that shirt even clean?”

“Yeah,” Darius heard from behind him. He then heard an audible sniff that made him smile. 

Looking back at his brother he said, “Come on, we’re going to miss the train.”

“You know, it’s never too late to go back to bed,” David exhaled, as they emerged from their shared room.

“What? And waste all the effort of getting ready,” Darius said with a smile. David looked on at his older brother with his own frown-formed smile. As much as he didn’t like waking up this early, seeing Darius’ excitement made the experience worth it. He wouldn’t say Darius was a happy person, but when they went to school, something came alive in him. So David would go, for no other reason than the fact that it did something for someone that did everything for everyone else.

“Come on, we’ve got fifteen minutes to get to the train.” David said, slinging his bag near the front door upon his back. They stepped out of the shadowy house into the fresh breath of morning.

The Second Circle arose as a different creature under a young sun. Images and shadows that aimed to swallow them just five hours ago became lovable and cordial. Glass-beaten concrete reflected the orange hue of the sun rising in its glory. Graffiti painted images of affiliation revealed the candor of community at all costs, but the young men weren’t taking in the scenery. Their gait slowly increased, as playful smiles grew on their faces. They held pace with one another, as David’s pace increased. He looked at Darius. Darius increased his own pace. David increased his pace once again. Darius followed suit, saying, “Not again.” Then David took off at full speed. The older followed with a chuckle saying,  “Come on nigga, look at what I’m wearing” as he blasted forward. David didn’t hear him.

To non-natives of the Second Circle, the pathways are treacherous. As an archaeologist carefully placing his footing in a ruin, would be the same approach someone would have who wasn’t familiar to the terrain. But when you grow up in a jungle, you learn how to use the vines. What started as a mere foot race became an exercise of threading the needle with one’s body. Attributes of the Second Circle blended together at the speed they were going. Every now and then, they would see a vendor opening up shop on the street who would shout “Hey Dar!” As Darius would flash a reserved smile, he’d double his pace to catch his brother. His vision blurred more as speed increased and hands and feet became points to pivot and traverse. They were approaching the finish line, as he was nearly neck and neck with his brother who flipped over the final fence to hear the winner’s fanfare.

HISSSSSSS! The trains of the station seemed to be unhappy with the result of their race. David held his arms up in the air, shuffling his feet and laughing. The world resolidified around them as the rapid screen scroller of the race ended. What appeared around them was a brick outdoor train station. Giant, metallic worms entered and left the station seeking to bear its inhabitants away from lands such as these. The continual hissing of the trains entering and leaving was loud, but Darius could heard what his younger brother shouted in the midst of his Chi-town step. “I’m streaking bro. Got the dub last night and the dub today!”

“It’s easy to win when you cheat,” Darius shot with the power of a body blow (David shook the comment off) checking himself for any sweat spots on his shirt. “Let’s just get to our platform.”

They passed by other giant metal behemoths to get to their platform.. Darius and David liked to get to the station early for good reason. The train schedule could be a little unpredictable. Better to get the first train than to get stranded for hours. Their school was always on the lookout for reasons to kick them out. Tardiness gave the administrators the excuse they needed. 

“You finish your homework?” Darius eyed David as their train hissed and reared towards them. 

“You know you asked me this yesterday before the fight, right? And you joke around about me having CTE.” David put both arms behind his head and swayed back and forth. “What’s the purpose of a two hour train ride if not to do homework on the ride there?”

“The ride is 80 minutes, and you still haven’t answered the question,” Darius said, eyeing the approaching train. 

“Relax. I got it done before we left on Friday. Easy-peasy,” looking at Darius, who’s eyes were upon the incredulous older sibling. He doubled-down on his attitude: “Did you want to check it as well Dad?” 

It felt wrong the moment the words came out of his mouth. Both David and Darius had much to answer for, they were never cruel to others much less to one another. The younger knew he needed to make amends regardless of how Darius reacted.

Darius turned and held David’s gaze for what felt like an eternity, even when the train stopped in front of them, responding “No,” with an iciness that could frost a lawn on a November morning. He then ascended the steps of the train to the higher level, David following him, mulling over how he would craft his apology for his “Dad” comment.

Being inside of the train considerably brightened Darius’ mood though. The lads stood alone in the dimly lit first car, the train rising from its own slumber, as it kicked forward. There was something about that crimson on the seats inside on the train, the warmth of the train’s internal heater that ran year-round, the soft smell of commerce and transport that made Darius feel new. The thought arose that maybe, just maybe, his life didn’t have to consist of training his younger brother to break his fists against the hide of something found only in bad dreams. 

The train ride, which others used simply as a means to reach the grocery store or their job, Darius found to be an escape from a life written for him before he was born. It reminded him of a time before. A time when his small feet would stand upon the feet and look out the window. He sunk into a chair, his eyes rolled into the back of his head. It reminded him of Mom and D…

“Dar. Hey, Dar man.” he practically felt the voice prod him from the state of catharsis. Well, it was good while it lasted. Darius opened his eyes to their halfway point, seeing David a seat away, with his hands pressed down on the cushions of the crimson seats.

“What’s up David?”

Usually not one who would mince his words, David sputtered a bit like a broken lawn mower. When he finally settled he said, “Look, when I called you “Dad” earlier, I was being stupid. I’m sorry.” With his “sorry,” he held Darius’ eyes for two seconds before he looked at his own lap. Within those two seconds, Darius recognized in David the child that also lost his parents. He saw David before his childhood needed to be squashed forever, before receiving punishment  from creatures was more comfortable than facing his own trauma, before bravado was more acceptable than vulnerability. He saw that little bit of dough before the training and the beating changed his body forever. Darius saw a bit of himself that he would never get back. He smiled a bit that he could still recognize it in his younger brother. For Darius, that part of him lodged too deep into the soil of poverty and misdeeds. Probably dead under that soil as well.

Darius inhaled and exhaled with the speed of a bullet coming out of the chamber. “Don’t worry about it man. You told me you did your homework on Friday. I shouldn’t have started the conversation at all. My bad.” He then placed his hand on David’s shoulder. “Let me close my eyes for five minutes. We said we’d talk about Kid this morning. I’d still like to do that. Cool?”

“Cool,” David who at this time had dropped his shoulders and lifted his head. A toothless smile came over the face of the younger, as if swallowing medicine trying to convince someone it was tasty.

Five minutes came and went, and Darius couldn’t access that place of rest he had when his eyelids first shut. Responsibility so rarely allows us to indulge. Not quire sure how to begin a conversation, David began, “So Kid…” and they began chatting about what they knew. Their conversation was admittedly intermittent as new stops began to welcome new riders on the train.

Everyone boarding in the Second Circle had a similar look. It’s not that folks were wearing the same clothes, but it was more the condition of their clothes. The conditions of their faces. Even the few professionals. Everyone had a “tell” of some kind. Whether it was wrinkles on the back of a shirt or uncared for wrinkles on the face. It could be a torn belt or tears upon bodies bordered by collars and ties. It could be worn clothes or a worn spirit, buttons that looked as they were about to burst from blouses bred from economic trauma bursting from bodies and homes. With every inhabitant of the Second Circle, there emerged a shared understanding. Shared burden of “That’s just how things are here.” A miserable solidarity, but solidarity is rarely found in times of plenty. If it really came right down to it, they would slide for one another without question from threats on this plane or any others.

As new inhabitants joined the ride, a nod stopped the lads’ conversation. There was nothing illegal about the ability to manipulate dimensional energy, but the moment that someone knew you could use it, you became a piece in someone’s game. Neither of the lads wanted that for Kid, so they cut their conversation short any time anyone got too close to them. Eventually, the train cleared again. The sun’s rays danced within the train car in its citrus taffeta dress through the windows, its orange warmth felt through the windows, as David started again. “So you really don’t think that Dally taught her that?

“I really don’t David. Why would he?” Darius replied. “What would be his motive in teaching a three year old how to use dimensional energy? I mean how would that even come up in conversation,” he whispered harshly.

“I don’t know. What would be Dally’s motive in weaponizing a child? I can’t think of a single instance where he even had an inkling towards doing something like that. That’s completely out of his character,” he chipped…”And out of his history.” David said with a saccharine smile.

“His past character and history aren’t lost on me David. “You act like he doesn’t have the capability to change,” the older exhaled.

“And you act like he’s incapable of ever turning back. You ever think that the stay at home dad life might just get a little boring for the former crime lord? Perhaps Kid is a way to get him back on the up and up,” he leaned back. And then looked at his older brother and asked, “I don’t get why you always take up for him.” Although the boys spoke in hushes, Darius felt the hurt. It wasn’t the first conversation where it shifted in this direction, but Darius thought that at some point the vitriol would cease from his younger brother towards Dally. However, things had improved from David and Dally not speaking to one another for a year when they first started living with one another. Thank God for small mercies, right?

“I’m sorry,” Darius spoke in an infomercial tone of voice, but who has been healing you for the past two years after your fights?”

“Well, last night it was Kid. But I suppose saving one life is a good start to bridging the gap of lives lost he was responsible for,” David finished. Darius could tell by the tone of his voice that the younger reached his limit in talking about it. Too much history there. Darius couldn’t blame him. One day, you’re unknowingly working for a mob boss, thinking you’re doing the right thing. The next day, you’re asked to accept that he’s changed, a dad, who has lost all ambition. That was the bitter part about them being enrolled in school. Both David and Darius were able to hear about the works of Dally and those like him through lectures and discussion groups and tests and quizzes and red marker and… it would take someone with serious psychosis to be able to forgive and forget. But then there was Darius. Perhaps, Darius felt there was some solidarity to be had with Dally. After all, there was blood on his hands as well. Although he would never tell his younger brother, when David attacked, he felt the sting of the blows, not simply from a capacity to empathize. Darius didn’t even know if he could do that anymore, but Darius didn’t even know if he was capable but out of the complicit nature Darius had with Dally. David didn’t know. He could never know. Silver laced sea beasts scudded beneath the surface of Darius forehead, all he could say was:

“Fair enough,” a statement with enough weight and pause to make them both want to change the topic from what happened in the past. He then continued, “Regardless of the source of the ability, what do you think we should do about it?”

David’s mind shifted to analytical mode as if the child was an intellectual conundrum to be solved. It always astonished the older how he could shift into this mode so easily. Looking up at the sign above David’s head, the cliche multicultural photo of teenagers in graduation garb, tossing their caps in the air made him smile. We made the right choice David.

“What nigga?” David asked, not knowing how to handle mystery in his mind.

“Nothing, what were you saying?”

Like a dog shaking away the stress, David hit him with a double-take then continued, “That was a high degree of control of dimensional energy. Even if Dally worked on me first, for her to patch me up with no pain, that should be impossible. I mean she has no knowledge of anatomy, cellular biology, dimensional energy. It’s like she was doing it from…”

“Reflex, right?” Darius spoke. “Shit, I wish we knew more about her folks. It was wildly irresponsible to pick her up the way we did.”

“Had we not, she would have died.” David shot back.

“That’s also correct,” Darius replied, deflecting some of the bleeding sun’s rays from his eyes.” It would be more irresponsible to do nothing. To let her die on that concrete, but maybe she’s best suited being with us. If anything, she has three people that can help her through this journey using her dimensional energy…” Darius knew the look his brother was giving him. It was peering over the glasses without the glasses. The: “You really heard nothing about what I just said about weaponizing children.”

Darius added in, “When I mean “use her dimensional energy,” I only meant that she is able to control it, so she won’t get caught using it in public.” He then eyed down his brother, “I know David. I know,” reassuring his brother. “Damn,” he chuckled a bit to himself.

“But what about now? We have a kid that is adept at using dimensional energy. Where do we reach out for help?”

“I think we are the help David. I really feel we should have done a better job in finding her parents,” he said, staring out of the window as the train lay on the outskirts of the Second Circle. We’re kind of out of our depth in getting information now. It took us a while to find a regular-ass pediatrician. Now, we need to find a dimensional energy expert as well. Right now, (and it’s not ideal), the best we can do is to support Kid. I know how uncomfortable you are with Dally dealing with anything that has to do with kids and dimensional energy, so why don’t we develop a schedule where in the evenings, we work with her to control it. Hell, she might be able to teach you something.”

“I guess that will have to work for now… Hey, don’t you mean that she’ll be able to teach “us” something?”  David’s question reflected back at him, as Darius was pierced anew by the citrus of the Third Circle.