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“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 ”
“What did you do?”
“What do you mean, what did I do?” Michael swung his head around. “I put them back. ”
“Holy shit.”
“No kidding.” He made a face and added, “I don’t even know if I put them back right.”
“You mean, Mom and Dad ”
“No, they’re right. Just . . . everyone else.” Michael paused.
“Jesus. What a week that was.”
“I’m surprised you came home,” said Gabriel, and he meant it. He’d never thought about what would have happened if he and his brothers had been thrown into foster care. If he and Nick had been split up.
“I did,” said Michael. “And that night was when I found the fridge. Fully stocked and all. I don’t even remember what made me go into that corner of the garage, but I swear to god, it was like Dad was standing right there, saying, ‘Here, kid, you look like you need a drink.’”
He stopped talking, and Gabriel let silence fill up the space between them for a moment.
Then he looked over. “Thanks.” He paused. “Does anyone else know?”
“No. Just you.”
That meant something. The beer, the story Michael was saying he trusted him. Gabriel wasn’t sure he deserved it.
“You’re not alone, you know.” Michael hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure Gabriel would keep listening. “Fire’s not my thing, but the pull, the power . . . I understand it. Nick and Chris do, too.”
