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“I know what you meant.” Michael paused to take another drink. “There’s a mini-fridge in the back corner of the garage, under the old tool bench.” His voice was careful, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to share this secret.
Gabriel didn’t look at him, hiding his own surprise. “You hid a fridge?”
“I didn’t. Dad did.” Another drink. “I found it after he died.”
They both fell silent for a while, Michael probably reliving it, Gabriel imagining it, his brother at eighteen, finding their father’s stash of beer. Gabriel wondered if Dad had only been hiding it from his sons, or if he’d kept it a secret from their mother, too.
Not like it mattered.
“Please tell me this beer isn’t five years old,” he said.
“It’s not.” Michael smiled.
And that, too, was almost enough to knock Gabriel out of the chair.
He stared out into the darkness for a moment, and then took another sip. “You’re not mad?”
Michael didn’t say anything, just took another drink.
Gabriel felt his shoulders tighten. The cold of the bottle bit at his fingertips.
“You remember that summer Chris got mono?” said Michael.
The question came out of left field. But Gabriel did remember. Right after their parents died, Chris had gotten really sick.
A pediatrician had diagnosed him with mononucleosis and given him antibiotics, but his “illness” had probably been more due to the fact that none of them were sleeping, and it was the driest summer Maryland had seen in years. Chris suffered without water.
“You and Nick got into it with Seth and Tyler that week,”
said Michael. “At the mall, of all places. You remember that, too?”
“Yeah.” Gabriel remembered the security guards pulling them apart.
“The custody stuff still wasn’t straight,” said Michael. “Chris was sick, and I didn’t know how insurance worked, if we even had it, what with Mom and Dad . . . and then you two got in all that trouble at the mall. The social worker started saying it was too much for me, and she was going to recommend foster care ”
“I didn’t know that.” Gabriel looked at him.
Michael shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?” He took another long sip and shook his head. “Anyway, I thought I was going to lose it. I was so angry. Angry at you two for not keeping out of trouble, angry at Chris for getting sick, angry at stupid stuff like missing graduation. I was worried she was right, that I couldn’t do it. And what was worse, I was angry at Mom and Dad for leaving me with such a frigging mess.”
Gabriel almost held his breath. Michael had never talked like this before. Especially not to him.
“I was so mad,” said Michael. “I hated them. I actually went to the cemetery and started swearing at the headstones. Punching them. I almost broke my hand. I looked like a lunatic.”
Another drink.
Gabriel stared.
“But I wanted them back so badly,” said Michael. “I would have done anything . . . well.” He took a breath and turned his head, meeting his brother’s eyes. “You know.”
“Yeah.” Gabriel paused. “I know.”
Michael turned and looked out at the night again. “So I’m kneeling there in the grass, wanting them back, feeding fury into the ground.” Another drink, this time a long one. He finished off the bottle. “The ground opened up and pushed their coffins to the surface.” He paused. “And not just theirs. Like twenty of them.”
Gabriel almost dropped his beer. He was horrified but also a little fascinated.
“Were they open?” he asked, his voice hushed.
Michael shook his head. “It scared the crap out of me. I mean, aside from the obvious, it was the middle of the afternoon ”
