*disclaimer* Please keep in mind that this is a rough draft. The story will be tweaked in my spare time to account for errors, grammatical or otherwise. *end disclaimer*
“Isn't that just cliché enough for
you? I have ten words to say to you and you walk out of the door
anyway. Wesley could have had a heart attack if it weren't for
Carlton keeping him preoccupied. Had to leave my eye in the commode.
Probably won't be seeing that again.”
I pulled out my wallet to show the lady
at the help desk my identification. He continued talking.
“Let me first begin by saying, yes, I
know how bad this looks. I'm dead. Just falling apart sometimes. But,
you're my brother. Who else am I going to be able to turn to?
Furthermore, why are you even here? They're only going to tell you
that I'm deceased, maybe allow you to look at my broken body, ask you
if you can identify me, and send you on your way.”
I took a number and sat down in a large
collection of people, mostly black. Two kids ran in between the rows
of seating while their mother whispered, “Don't. Not here. Stop
that right now.” Quinn stopped speaking long enough to move out of
the smallest child's way, who looked up and said, “Excuse me
sir...”
“That's okay kid.”
“Like I was saying. We're family. I
don't know why...”
Fall weather brought out all of the
scarves and hats considering the temperature outside was only 70
degrees. Quinn took turns between watching the kids play and
attempting to hold my attention by maintaining contact with his one
good eye. He hadn't changed much since the previous day at all. His
brown hair was still cut short. His goatee was barely assembled from
a patch of scruff that he managed to grow before dying. His good eye
was brown and always full of a light hearted laughter which couldn't
be caught. Quinn aged taller and he was also stronger. I was shorter,
skinnier, inferior. He wasn't wearing shoes or sandals. The feet
didn't cast a shadow. The toes were wide and pale. One, the biggest
toe on the right foot, had been broken while playing on a
merry-go-round by a kid with a wooden baseball bat. It had a horrible
lean, curving inward like it was trying to protect the rest.
He kept talking for the entire thirty
minute wait. I did everything that I could to ignore the noises but
there was only so much National Geographic that I could stand to
read, especially since there were fewer breasts in the articles. I
took in the room for the remainder of the time.
I sighed. My number was called. I
walked behind a police officer and a medical examiner. The examiner,
Henry, pointed at several boxes stacked in one of the hallways and
made a comment about them being in the way, “Every time.” We
walked into a cold room, the four of us.
“I think that you can do without this
part, Stuart. It's not going to be pleasant. I'm sexy as hell.
There's no way you could live up to seeing yourself in the mirror
everyday.”
The typical large white sheet covered
everything but two feet. The examiner asked me to step forward and he
removed the barrier.
I don't know if you've ever had to look
at a dead relative before. I'll assume that you will in the future or
have in the past. If you're reading this while observing the
deceased, please leave them your copy of the book as I'm sure they'll
find it entertaining, informative, and may even thank you for it
someday. Just tuck it in their blazer, say some nice words, and get
busy hugging those that have survived farther down the line. If
you've never had to look at a dead relative, the following is for
you. These bitter experiences felt throughout life that find you
without adequate means of escape phase in and out of existence like a
knot of fire amidst conditions of complete simplicity.
The face wasn't correct. That's what I
noticed first. Quinn, whether real or not, stood in the room making
identification and analysis of a dead individual easy. Nothing was
correct. Pale skin was a check, but he shoulders were small, the
torso bulged in the middle, and he had blond hair. Most of all, he
had perfect toes..
“This is not my brother.”
The examiner raised his eyebrows.
“Excuse me? His iden-”
Hearing the rest of what the man had to
say would have been nice except that I now had to give the most
annoying voice in the room my undivided attention.
“I tried to bring this up earlier. I
did. I was robbed yesterday by a jerk wearing skinny jeans. How many
times does someone get robbed at gunpoint by a hipster? I'd like to
know the odds. It's not like the crime rate in this city points to
any sort other possible scenario. Nope. White-blond-hipster-douchebag
needs to make a point about fashion AND start up a a life of crime
too. I suppose I had it coming to me. I'm basically made of money. I
think I had a gift card worth $25 dollars in that wallet on the
table. I even had a few business cards from hair salons. I was
starting a collection of those.”
The medical examiner pointed to the
wallet. I walked to autopsy table and looked at it.
“This was his. Here is his i.d..”
“Was his. This is the only body that
we pulled out of the alley. You're saying your brother is dead too.”
“Yes. I haven't heard from him in a
while.”
“He could still be alive. Have you
tried filing a missing person's report?”
“No, that won't be necessary. I
shouldn't have come here. I have to go.” My breathing began to
tighten. Quinn covered his face with his palm.
“Are you alright son? I can have the
lady at the front desk help you with the paperwork for the report.
It'll only take a few minutes. Jim, can you show him to the front
desk?”
“No, that's fine. It won't be a
problem.”
“What? Why won't it be a problem? I
don't understand”
“My brother died two years ago.”
I wanted to just turn and walk out of
the door, get in my truck, drive home to my run down apartment, but
I couldn't. The policeman cleared his throat. Henry squinted his
eyes. I buckled my knees, swayed backwards, and then tumbled, head
first, into a rolling table filled with medical instruments.
