Short Story #4 — BROTHERS IN DISTRESS (3700 words)
*All stories are protected under the © Seal of the Copyright Office of the United States. April 27, 2023 and May 01, 2023
Three brothers plan to carry out an abominable act against their own lives. Fortunately everything goes wrong and the result is perfect.
BROTHERS IN DISTRESS
The explosion was imminent. We were still determining who or what would set it off. The decision was mutual and final. Everybody would later say it was absurd, too. I expected it to be painless. I hated pain, physical or mental.
We’re three brothers separated by six years each. We all were born in September. My brother Ralph was thirty, I was twenty-four, and my little brother Anthony was eighteen. Our house was a gathering place for all the kids from the neighborhood. I don’t remember having had any serious fights with my brothers. We were always very close to each other.
My dad had worked half his life for Ford Motor Company and was proud of it. At one point, we had four Ford vehicles in our driveway: three cars and a pickup truck. Anthony broke the tradition the day he came home in a brand new Honda Accord. My dad didn’t pretend to hide his disappointment. He didn’t let Anthony park his car near the house. At first, my brother thought Dad was kidding.
My mom was a strict catholic, maybe on the verge of fanaticism. She wanted Ralph to be a priest, but that profession didn’t interest him. She continued her efforts with me when she realized her attempts with Ralph would be futile. She insisted so much I almost accepted. I’m glad I didn’t. In the end, she had success with Anthony.
I’ve always found it unbelievable how three brothers, raised by the same parents in the same house and environment, could have disparaging personalities, desires, and goals.
My brother Ralph had always been materialistic. He was ambitious and a little vain, too. Making money was his primary goal. He preferred the administrative side of all jobs. Being the boss was what he liked the most.
I have always loved sports. I have played baseball, soccer, and basketball. I considered the possibility of becoming a professional trainer or a doctor in sports medicine because the active lives of most professional athletes last only a few short years.
My brother Anthony (thanks to my mom) became a priest. He had a true vocation for it. He had many virtues and qualities required for the priesthood. He was patient and understanding. His personality was passive and sedated. Anthony was gay, but I’m not implying a connection between priesthood and being gay.
We would do anything to help and protect each other.
We knew Anthony had been gay since he was in middle school. My mom and dad knew about it, too. We all accepted his sexual preference. “Accept” was not the right word. It wasn’t a matter of acceptance or rejection. It was a matter of understanding. The subject never caused any problems. He was never bullied or bothered by anyone, maybe because he had two big brothers or because he was quiet and intelligent, and everybody enjoyed his company.
He never had the urge to come out of the closet. He never felt the need to disclose it or hide it from anybody. It was just a normal situation. No one was affected negatively by it.
We were born six years apart in the same month, September. Since Anthony was born, we celebrated our birthdays on the same day—a single party.
One day, Ralph invited us to celebrate our birthday at his house —just the three of us. We had enough tequila to last the whole week. Ralph explained that the mortgage on his fancy home was ‘upside down,’ meaning he owed more than the house’s worth. It had negative equity. He had several active loans on it.
His wife Lauren had recently left him. They had a seven-year-old daughter. Everything was fine until he began spending more time spending his money and not enough time making it. He loved expensive toys, cars, and boats. He used to take long vacations worldwide, sometimes without his family, until he was broke and alone.
I saw it coming a long time ago. I knew Ralph would have to file for bankruptcy and start all over. I didn’t understand why he had to be so greedy. Anthony always admired Ralph. He was his idol and his favorite person in the world.
After Ralph shared his economic situation with us, Anthony offered his help. “I could lend you ten thousand dollars, no, fifteen thousand dollars. I know I can get a loan for that much from my church,” he said.
Ralph kissed him on the cheek.
“I love you, Anthony. You’re my favorite brother,” Ralph said, then he turned to me and said, “You’re my favorite brother, too,” and he continued, “but I’m beyond normal help. Not even bankruptcy could save my ass.” He said this with a sad smile on his face. He took another sip of tequila, now drinking from the bottle.
“How bad is it?” I asked him.
“Bad,” he answered.
“Well, you can sell the house our parents left us, and you can also sell the shares my dad had with Ford. I’m sure Anthony wouldn’t mind,” I said. (Our parents had died in a dreadful car crash three years before.)
“I’m sorry, I already did all that. I don’t deserve to be your brother. I knew you wouldn’t mind because you’re not greedy like me. My problem is beyond solution. I’m facing heavy shit. I’ve been taking money from new clients to pay back old ones. And the bubble is about to burst. I’m talking about years of jail time. It’s not just because I’d lose my freedom. I’d be too ashamed to confront my friends and people who trusted me. I’d rather die. I’m glad we’re together today. Today is my farewell. I’m taking my life. No one can change my mind. It would be useless if you tried.”
Then, he opened a cabinet door where a handgun and a single bullet appeared on the bottom shelf.
He continued, “A few months ago, I bought a life insurance policy for two million dollars. Lauren is the beneficiary; the only problem now is that she can collect it only if my death is accidental, but if I kill myself, she gets zero.”
To my amazement, neither Anthony nor I were shocked to hear about his vile plans. I had the same strange feeling when I learned about the death of our parents—a vast emptiness inside my body. I felt like my soul wanted to disconnect from my body.
*****
On the day my dad celebrated twenty-five years of employment for the Ford Motor Co., they delivered a one-inch thick piece of beveled glass with the Ford logo. It belonged in a car dealer’s showroom. I thought it was a large dining tabletop, but it was a front door.
When they installed it, it looked fancy and expensive, and I bet it was. My dad said jokingly, “Remember, boys, in case of an emergency, like an earthquake, a fire, or something like that, we’ll remove the door and put it in a safe place. After that, we can look for your mother.” I also remember that he used to clean it ceremoniously with a special cloth and glass cleaner every night.
Well, it lasted only two weeks because one day, we were kicking the soccer ball, practicing penalty kicks, and using the garage door as our goalposts. Ralph was the goalie, and I kicked the soccer ball very hard, missed the garage door, and hit my dad’s pride instead.
That afternoon, we waited for my dad, sitting on the curve by the driveway. When he got home, we all stood up, and Anthony said with the saddest face I’ve seen my whole life, “Dad, I broke your door.” He said this while hugging him around his waist and sobbing quietly. He was probably eight years old.
Then Ralph said, “No, Dad, it was me. I’m sorry. I swear I’ll pay for it as soon as I start working.” By then, my dad was looking at me, knowing that I had broken it.
As we stood in front of the house looking at the ample space where the door was supposed to be, my dad said,
“Don’t worry, boys. It was just a door. Anybody can replace a door. I want nothing bad to happen to you because you are irreplaceable. You just showed me how much you care for each other, which makes me a happy father,” my dad proudly said. But we felt sad for him because we knew he wouldn’t last another twenty-five years of loyal work to get another door from Henry Ford.
Then, we brought a piece of plywood from the garage and covered the space temporarily.
But we couldn’t do anything to fill the space in my dad’s heart. “I’m so sorry, dad,” I said.
I was very proud to belong to my family. I felt we were indestructible. I knew I would do anything for any of them, anything.
*****
Ralph grabbed the gun in one hand and the bullet in the other, saying, “I have only one bullet. I need to make it look like an accident. Any suggestions?”
“Come on, Ralph! Please don’t joke about it. We can’t let you do that. There has to be another way out. We should put our minds to work and devise a more reasonable plan. There must be another solution.” Anthony said firmly.
“I thought about other solutions, like running away like a coward to another city, state, or country. Disappear anywhere and start all over, but I can’t do that. What I’ve done is punished with prison, and I know I wouldn’t last a week in jail. Even if I did, after many years of imprisonment, I wouldn’t be able to face my friends or clients. I’d be too ashamed to look into my daughter’s eyes. I know I’m right when I say I don’t deserve to be your brother. Please, don’t make it harder on me. My decision is final. I couldn’t do it without letting you know first.”
“Well, if you do it, I’d do it too. I swear I would. I’ve been thinking about it. I have strong motives. I’ll tell you what real suffering is,” Anthony said.
“I was deeply in love for the first time in my life, but in my case, it was wrong. I met a young boy; he was gay, too. Nothing shameful or illegal happened between us. We became good friends right away. He was seventeen years old. Some people say that priesthood is a refuge for repressed homosexuals and that we join the seminary to keep functioning in society and to hide our sexuality. My case is not like that at all. I love being a priest, and I’d be a priest even if I weren’t gay. I was never trying to hide anything. We fell in love and promised ourselves to wait until he turned eighteen. Celibacy and abstinence were tough choices for me. But for him, I could return to civilian life.” he paused, took a long sip of tequila, and continued.
“When he told his mom about us, he thought she would approve. Instead, she moved her family to another city and reported me to our diocese. He committed suicide two weeks ago. I couldn’t even go to his funeral. I felt like I betrayed God like my vocation wasn’t sincere anymore. I just wanted to die, too. My decision is final, too, and nobody can change it either, not even you two. What hurts me the most is that God will never absolve me because suicide is a transgression against the sanctity of life.”
The three of us were quietly sobbing. We each had a bottle of tequila, drinking and sharing our problems and individual pain. We couldn’t even have these suicidal thoughts if our parents were alive. But at that moment, we were just three grown-up orphans.
It never crossed my mind that any of my brothers could ever consider committing suicide.
If you were serious about it, you would keep it to yourself. That was something nobody would announce to the world. In any case, I was the only one with a legitimate excuse.
*****
I relived the entire episode many times. It was hard to understand life and the many tricks it plays on you. I knew how a simple decision could alter your future. I learned how a minor modification in your routine could vary (and bury) your future. How could fate, God, or whatever change your future instantly? For instance, let’s say my father had a toothache the day he was supposed to have met my mom, and he didn’t get out of the house that day because of the discomfort and pain. I wouldn’t have existed.
When I returned home from college for the long Labor Day weekend, my friend Mike from high school called me to join him to shoot some pool and, of course, to have a few beers. We called a few more friends and met at a bar about thirty miles from home.
I should have declined the invitation.
When we got out of the bar, we were wasted. Someone suggested buying more beer before the liquor stores closed. I was driving alone, while Mike and the other two friends were with him. On the freeway from the other car, one of the guys offered me a beer. We matched our speed, got our cars close together, and extended my arm to reach for the beer.
That’s the last thing I remember from the accident. How reckless and irrational you become with some alcohol in your blood. And I thought I was a mature person.
A week later, I regained consciousness and came out of a coma. Only to learn that my able body had turned into a useless piece of meat, confined to a wheelchair for the rest of my life. Mike and the other two guys died at the scene.
As I said, I should have declined the invitation.
I broke up with my beautiful girlfriend while still in the hospital after she offered to give me a blowjob.
For months, I had entertained the possibility of committing suicide. The first thought came up in the hospital. I knew then that I had to do it. I didn’t know what I was waiting for, probably for the right moment, although the right moment was ‘any time.’ I had no hope. I had no goals. Nothing I would achieve could bring happiness to my life. I was only half a man, destined to be an eternal failure.
Some people said I was lucky that I survived. Lucky?
My plans to become a professional soccer player, a coach, or a doctor vanished with a careless decision. No more sports, social life, regular job, or career. At least not at its full potential, as I would have wished. Oh, and I couldn’t have sex or kids of my own. What a miserable life!
*****
After Anthony exposed his motives for wishing to end his life, he looked at me, expecting me to burst out with my reasons to kill myself. After all, I was in a wheelchair. I was the only one with apparent reasons. One time, Ralph asked me if I had suicidal thoughts. Before I could answer, Anthony said that I shouldn’t consider it.
We all had reasons.
I’m sure we all felt like the day I broke my dad’s door. Three brothers eternally united. We just sealed a silent pact, a mutual consent to end our lives.
Life didn’t matter to us anymore. We were just three adult orphans with no close ties to anybody other than ourselves.
Neither one of us was optimistic about a bright future anymore. However, I needed clarification on Ralph and Anthony. After all, they were complete. I mean, they didn’t have any physical disabilities, but they were disappointed with their lives, and sometimes that could be worse than any disability.
Their dilemma seemed less drastic than mine. Their predicament appeared to be only temporary, and mine was permanent. There was no solution to my problem. Acceptance was my only option, but I was too bitter for that.
I felt tempted to convince them to retract. Instead, I just kept quiet.
A sudden thought came to my mind. If I had ended my life, I wouldn’t have regretted it. I’d be dead already. But if I didn’t, things could improve. Maybe I could postpone it one day at a time until the desire to kill myself went away. For a moment, I wished my brothers would reconsider it. I could go either way, but I joined the majority, and once again, I kept quiet.
“So, how are we gonna do this?” Anthony asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. “We could get drunk out of our minds and burn the place down. Or better yet, we could turn the range on, blow out the flames, and let the gas fill our lungs until we pass out from breathing the fumes, or someone can shoot the oven.”
“Our baby brother is always the one with the best ideas,” Ralph said, looking at me as he took another sip of tequila. “I was going to ask any of you to shoot me, but I know that’s impossible. You wouldn’t dare. Besides, I only have one bullet.”
“Well, if we do it with gas, we’ll need some masking tape to seal all doors and windows,” I said.
In a few seconds, Ralph showed up with two rolls.
“I know many people were commenting behind my back that Lauren was my trophy wife, and they were right. I bet she can find someone better than me before my body turns cold,” Ralph said as he sealed the front door. Anthony was handling the gas range while I taped the living room windows. We were always an excellent team: fast and efficient, happy to do our chores together, and talking nonstop.
It felt weird working so happily together while preparing for our deaths. It didn’t seem right. It must have been the effects of the alcohol, but I hadn’t felt happy in a long time. I wish we could do that every week.
We sat back again in the kitchen and kept drinking. We needed to pass out before we got sick from the gas smell. Anthony had turned off all pilot flames from the stove and opened all gas valves. The odor was powerful already. We were drunk, for sure. Anthony appeared to be more intoxicated than we were. I felt like throwing up. I got the lighter out of my pocket, raised my arm, and asked, “Who wants to do the honors?”
“Not yet, we’re not drunk enough, and besides, I don’t think there’s enough gas in the air,” Ralph said.
We were sitting down, facing the gas range. Ralph raised his bottle of tequila and invited us to do the same, and we all took a big gulp.
“We can still back out,” Anthony said, swaying his body involuntarily and adding, “No, no, let’s do it. I’ve always been curious about the other side. I’d be disappointed if God didn’t exist, but wait, if we kill ourselves, He won’t be receiving us with a welcoming party, but I guess it’s still all right. I also wanted to meet Satan.” my little brother was definitely drunk.
The gun was on the countertop, and the bullet stood with its beautiful shape next to it. We still hadn’t discussed who or what would set off the explosion or if we would die from the fumes. I thought I could fire a shot at the stove.
The feeling of vomiting invaded me again, and I turned my wheelchair around, doing a ‘wheelie,’ and hurried to the bathroom. I was good at maneuvering my wheelchair, even while drunk. I needed to throw up. From the hallway, I heard my brothers laughing behind me.
I barely made it to the bathroom. I got out of my wheelchair, hugged the toilet like you would a good old friend, and vomited.
When I regained consciousness, it took me a few seconds to realize I wasn’t dreaming.
The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the toilet. I climbed back into the wheelchair and hurried back to the kitchen. My mouth was dry, and so was my brain. I didn’t know what to expect. I had no idea how long I had passed out. I hoped to find my brothers laughing, talking, and breathing. Instead, they were lying motionless on the floor. Oh God, they were dead!
While vomiting in the bathroom with the door shut, I fell asleep while they were dying. Fuck! They were dead, and I was alive!
Slowly, I turned my head and looked for the gun. I took it and placed the bullet inside. Then I put the gun against my temple. Feeling the ridges of the trigger with my index finger, I began to pull it. Then I saw Ralph coming back to life on the floor. He sat up, looked around the kitchen, and said,
“Oh shit, I know what happened. I forgot to pay the gas bill!”
The sun was up when Anthony woke up. We all agreed this ‘mass suicide’ wasn’t supposed to happen.
Things got better.
The government devised a bailout plan for crooked investment companies and saved Ralph’s ass. He could make some documents disappear, alter some numbers, and promise to be an honest investor for the rest of his life. We believed him.
Anthony moved to West Hollywood and found happiness in every single way.
I returned to school and later became a successful sportswriter.
We continued with our annual ritual. We still get together each September to celebrate our birthdays. And every year, Anthony would repeat the same comment:
“Hey Ralph, have you paid your gas bill this time?”
The End
*All stories are protected under the © Seal of the Copyright Office of the United States. April 27, 2023 and Mat 01, 2023
Edmundo Barraza
Written in Visalia, CA. Nov-24-2011
Posted on Blogger Mar-2-2017
Posted on WordPress Aug-8-2020 Reposted Mar-9-2023
Accomplished Ignorant — Short Stories And Other Things 