The Other Brother Read online

  Thinking about those happy times made the pain of his father's betrayal sink that much deeper. Gabriel had the wild urge to rip the photo album out of his father's hands, toss it into a fireplace, and burn it to ashes.

  "Have I been a good father?" Pops asked in a wavering voice.

  Gabriel swallowed, hesitated.

  "Until ... this happened, of course," Pops said. "Have I been good to you?"

  "You were a good father," Gabriel said. He looked away. "I ... I idolized you"

  "I always wanted to give you the very best. You, your mother, your sister-all of you. Nothing but the best"

  "Then give us the truth. You owe us that"

  "The truth?" Pops laughed hoarsely. A cloud passed over his eyes and Gabriel had a distinct sense that his father was hoarding a treasure chest of nasty, incriminating secrets-of which Isaiah was only the first.

  No, Gabriel thought. He refused to believe it. It couldn't be any worse than it already seemed. He would not consider it.

  Pops drained the rest of his liquor and extended his hand toward Gabriel. Gabriel moved away.

  "Okay, then," Pops said. He stood, wearily. There was a helpless look in his eyes Gabriel couldn't bear to see. This wasn't his father, the hero. He didn't know this weak, dispirited man.

  "I need you, son. Don't abandon me now."

  "They're waiting for you" Gabriel started walking to the doorway.

  Grim-faced, hunched over, Pops followed him to the library to face his family.

  Gabriel didn't sit. He stood behind the chair in which his mother sat and rested his hand on her shoulder.

  She was going to need it.

  Pops sat in the middle of the group. He rubbed his mouth with a handkerchief as though to force his lips to move. But he remained silent.

  Everyone looked at Pops. The silence in the room thickened.

  Gabriel cleared his throat. "Pops brought us here to tell us something."

  Pops shot him a reproving look. But he finally began to speak.

  "Thank you all for coming here this evening on short notice," Pops said. "You all know me as a man of purpose who likes to get straight to the point. That's what I'm going to do. It's the only way to do this."

  Pops brought the handkerchief to his lips again.

  "This morning," he said, "a young man visited Gabriel at the office. The man said that he and Gabriel have the same father-me. Gabriel came to me and asked me if the man was telling the truth. He was"

  Nicole gasped. There was no reaction from Mom. She sat, frozen.

  "The young man's name is Isaiah," Pops said. "He, like Gabriel, is thirty years old. In fact, he and Gabriel share the same birthday, as unlikely as that may sound. His mother lives-lived-in Chicago. She passed away earlier this year."

  Nicole was shaking her head, tears flowing down her cheeks. Dana rubbed Nicole's back, murmuring supportive words.

  Mom had not shown any reaction.

  "I'd always known about Isaiah, but I kept him a secret. After Isaiah's mother died, I suppose he wanted to meet me, so he's come here. I'm all he has left. He wants to know his people."

  Nicole was weeping freely. Dana hugged her.

  Mom was a marble statue. Gabriel put his arms around her. Her skin was clammy and her eyes were glassy.

  Pops moved his handkerchief from his mouth to his eyes.

  "You can't know how sorry I am that this has happened," Pops said. "I did a terrible thing, and it doesn't matter that it happened so many years ago. I'm so sorry. But I hope that we can pull together, as a family, and let Isaiah become a part of our lives. I owe him that much."

  Finished, Pops leaned back in the chair and tilted his gaze to the ceiling. Tears trickled down his face.

  Crying, Nicole wrapped her arms tightly around Dana. Dana rocked her, whispered to her.

  Gabriel looked at his mother, who'd yet to speak a word.

  She sat still, silent.

  "Mom?" he asked. He shook her gently. "Are you okay?"

  Mom blinked, turned to look at Gabriel.

  Startled at what he'd seen in her gaze, Gabriel took a step backward.

  Mom shrieked. It was a strange, tortured cry-the first time he'd ever heard her make a sound like that.

  Mom pounced like a bobcat on his father.

  She moved much too fast for anyone to stop her, and Pops didn't try to ward her away. As he sat there with his hands in his lap, Mom leaped on him. She was a delicate woman, but she slammed into him so hard that she knocked him off balance. The chair in which Pops sat tipped backward and crashed to the hardwood floor.

  Gabriel was so awestruck that he couldn't move.

  Sitting on Pops's chest, Mom dug her hands into his shirt like talons. She throttled him as if he were a rag doll. Pops's head thunked against the floor as she shook him.

  "How could you, how could you, how could you?!" Mom screamed. She drew back her hand and smacked Pops so hard that a stream of saliva spewed from Pops's mouth.

  Gabriel wanted to hurt his father, too. He truly did. He envisioned himself rushing to the fireplace, snagging a poker, and using it to beat his father senseless like a human pinata.

  Nicole groped toward him, too, wild-eyed and weeping. Dana struggled to keep her away.

  As she shook his father, Mom's screams of "How could you?" had become ragged sobs.

  Pops lay there, taking the punishment like a martyr in the name of some noble cause, and it was that limp, defenseless pose that propelled Gabriel into action. On one level he was worried about Pops, concerned that his mother might seriously hurt him. But on another level that really got him going, he saw Pops's lack of resistance as just another act, another way of manipulating them to make them believe he was genuinely sorry. He had to be sorry, right, if he was allowing them to take their rage out on him like this? Gabriel didn't want to play into his hands, didn't want to be deceived, not anymore.

  Gabriel hooked his hands under his mother's arms and attempted to drag her away from his dad. It was like trying to grab a knot of rattlesnakes. Mom writhed out of his grasp and fell on top of Pops, flailing her arms. One of her hands smacked Gabriel in the face, and, knocked off balance, he tumbled on top of both his parents.

  Trying to regain his balance, his gaze fell on a photograph on the other side of the library. A family portrait taken when he was five years old. He had an Afro, and so did Pops and even Mom, and Nicole, all of two years old, had Afro puffs. They wore grins that looked as though they would never be erased from their faces. A moment of family bliss preserved forever.

  Mom had maneuvered herself back onto Pops's chest. Her hands closed around his throat. She was squeezing. Weeping.

  Pops gasped for air.

  Gabriel wrapped his arm around his mother's waist and tugged her away.

  Wailing, Mom kicked at Pops, her shoes striking against his ribs. Pops rolled away, still choking.

  Gabriel hauled his mother to a chair on the other side of the room. He forced her into it. And then he held her there, braced both his arms around her, using his full weight to keep her in place.

  "Stay here, Mama," he said. "Don't hurt Pops, just stay here ""

  Mom began to rock as much as she could while trapped within the circle of his arms. "Lord Jesus help me," she cried. "Lord Jesus, Lord Jesus . . ."

  Across the room, Nicole lay sprawled in a chair, limp and bedraggled. Dana had left the library.

  Maybe she'd decided that his family was too crazy for her and had left. He couldn't say he would blame her.

  Pops slowly sat up. He wiped his face with his handkerchief and blew his nose.

  "I'm sorry," Pops said again in a tired voice. "I never wanted to hurt anyone. I hope you can forgive me. You all mean everything to me ""

  Mom grasped Gabriel's arms, started to peel them away. He didn't stop her. She moved with a deliberate strength that let him know she had gotten herself under control. Freed from his arms, she leaned forward in the chair, her gaze riveted on his father.
r />   "Are there more?" Mom asked in a voice that, though full of pain, was surprisingly strong.

  "More?" Pops asked. "I don't understand"

  "More children you fathered," Nicole said. "That's what Mom means. Are there any more, or is this son the only one?"

  "Jesus" Pops wiped his face. "Who do you think I am?"

  "We don't know anymore," Gabriel said, and his mother and sister nodded.

  "I can't believe you'd ask me that .. " Pops trailed off. "No, there aren't any more, for God's sake"

  "You lied to me," Mom said in a soft voice. She shook her head sadly. "How could you-after all I've sacrificed for you?"

  "Marge-"

  "I don't want to hear it." Mom raised her hand in a stop gesture.

  Pops shut his mouth.

  Mom looked from Nicole to Gabriel. "Your father and I need some time alone. Please shut the door on your way out of the library."

  Mom's tone was firm and crisp. People who didn't know their family from the inside usually assumed that Pops ran the show. He did, in many ways, but in matters of discipline, Mom called the shots. "Spare the rod, spoil the child" had been her rule, and when she used that strident tone, they knew she meant business.

  Gabriel and Nicole quietly left the library and closed the door behind them.

  Gabriel saw Dana coming down the hallway with towels draped over her arm. Her eyes widened with alarm when she saw him and Nicole.

  "What's going on?" Dana asked.

  "Mom and Pops are talking in private." He took one of the towels Dana offered him and wiped his sweaty, tearstreaked face. "Shit, what a night"

  Although his watch read half past seven, meaning that only about thirty minutes had passed since they had arrived, Gabriel felt as though several hours had gone by. He could never remember feeling so drained.

  He ambled into the kitchen and sat on a stool near the granite-topped island. He buried his face in the towel.

  He wanted this night to be over. He wanted to forget that any of this had happened. It was like someone else's life, not his.

  But part of him felt as though this family catastrophe was inevitable. Hadn't he always believed that their lives were a little too Cosby Show ideal? Hadn't he always sensed something awful lurking just out of sight, waiting to slither into the light?

  Maybe they deserved a shattering revelation like this to disabuse them of their illusions about themselves and drop them back into the real world, where there was no such thing as a perfect family.

  No, this is all Pops 's fault. There's no excuse for what he done, and we don't deserve this.

  He removed the towel from his face and wrung it with his hands as though choking someone.

  Nicole took three Heinekens out of the refrigerator, beers left over from their Memorial Day cookout what a happier day that had been-and handed them out. Neither Nicole nor Dana usually drank beer, but they popped off the caps and took long gulps. Gabriel sipped his, too, but he could have used something stronger to smooth the ragged edges of his emotions.

  Nicole covered her mouth and belched. She leaned against the counter, closer to Gabriel. "You've met Isaiah, Gabe. What's he like?"

  Gabriel started to say, "I didn't like him at all," but Dana fired a warning glance at him.

  "You'll have to meet him yourself and form your own opinion, Nicole," he said. "I'm sure it won't be long before he stops by. You heard what Pops said about accepting him into the family."

  "But does he look like he could be Daddy's son?" Nicole asked. "Maybe Daddy is wrong about him."

  "Pops isn't wrong, trust me," Gabriel said. "The guy looks a lot like me. He even has gray eyes."

  "And you and him are the same age, and have the same birthday?" Nicole said. "That's really weird."

  "A bizarre coincidence," Dana said. "Isaiah is only a few minutes older than Gabe"

  "Which makes him think he can call himself the firstborn," Gabriel said.

  But Nicole hadn't heard him. She patted at her reddened eyes with a towel. "I just can't believe Daddy would do this. I'm still shocked"

  Gabriel wanted to shout, "Get over it, Nicole!" He didn't want her to be shocked. He wanted her to be angry. Was he the only one who was truly enraged at their father? To his way of thinking, not being angry at Pops was akin to forgiving him, and his father was a long way from deserving their forgiveness.

  While Nicole and Dana continued to talk, Gabriel went back to the library. He cracked open the door.

  His father was the only one in there. He stood at the window, nursing another stiff drink. He didn't glance at Gabriel.

  "Where did Mom go?" Gabriel asked.

  Pops shrugged. "You know your mother. After she cussed me out she went off to pray somewhere."

  You need to be praying, too, Gabriel wanted to say. For forgiveness.

  But Gabriel only shut the door.

  He went to the second level and approached Mom's private study. The door was closed, but soft light glowed underneath.

  He knocked. "Mom, it's Gabe."

  "Come in," she said.

  Mom's personal study was a book-lined room with a desk, comfortable sofa and reading chair, and Tiffany lamp. Mom sat on the sofa in the golden lamplight wearing her reading glasses; a large, leather-bound Bible lay open on her lap and a box of Kleenex stood on a nearby table.

  He wasn't surprised to find his mother in there. Her uncharacteristic burst of rage notwithstanding, Mom was an easygoing woman, a devout Christian who placed great emphasis on forgiveness. She wasn't going to let righteous anger rule her. She would set aside her anger and hurt to work to heal their family. For Mom, healing began with seeking God's counsel.

  "Sorry to interrupt," he said. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

  "Have a seat." Smiling weakly, she patted the cushion beside her.

  He sat next to her. Mom dabbed her eyes with a tissue, sniffled, and then placed a shaky finger underneath a line of scripture.

  "Listen," he said. "If you want to be alone, Mom. .

  "Please" She placed her hand on his arm. "Sit here with me. For a little while."

  "Okay," he said. He looked around the room awkwardly, not knowing what to say. Still struggling to handle his own anger, he felt incapable of comforting his mother.

  "It hurts, I know," Mom said. "But we must forgive him."

  "Forgive him?" He shook his head fervently. "I'm not there yet, Mom. Are you?"

  "No," she admitted. "But I'm upset with your father for ... other reasons"

  "Other reasons?"

  Mom blinked as though catching herself in a lapse. "Forgiveness is good for the soul, Gabriel. Although I suspect it will take some time for you to reach that point."

  "You could be right," he said, nodding. "Or maybe I never will."

  Chapter 19

  • n hour later, Gabriel drove home, Dana riding in the pasL senger seat.

  "Mom talked to me about forgiving Pops," Gabriel said. "Ain't no way in hell."

  Dana looked away from the window, where she had been contemplating the night.

  "That's kinda harsh, baby," she said.

  "Pops cheated on her, Dana. Then he lied to her. Hell, he lied to all of us for years"

  "True," she said slowly. "He did a terrible thing. But . .

  "But what?"

  "But I'd hate to see this tear apart your family. In spite of what your father did, you have a wonderful family. Not everyone is so lucky." Her eyes darkened, and he knew what she meant. She had lost her folks when she was just a kid. To her, he appeared to be blessed beyond measure.

  Maybe she was right; maybe he was being shortsighted and immature. He couldn't deny that Pops had been a great father to him and Nicole, and a loving husband to his mother. He looked up to his father as if he were a hero, always had.

  Perhaps that was why learning about Pops's lie cut so deep.

  "Do you know what's going to happen next?" Gabriel asked. "After Mom is done weeping and praying and forgiving Pops? I can
tell you"

  Dana sighed, didn't respond.

  "Pops is going to bring Isaiah over to meet the family," he said. "Wait and see. It's bad enough that he had to lie for all these years now he's gonna rub our faces in it, too"

  Gabriel's house was ahead. He turned into the driveway, too fast, and almost smashed into the garage door before it had finished opening. Calming himself, he slowly maneuvered into the garage, and switched off the engine.

  He massaged the bridge of his nose. Dana sat with him, quietly. It was only half-past nine, but he was exhausted and couldn't wait to sleep.

  "Your father isn't perfect," she said, ending the silence. "He's only human. He makes mistakes."

  "This isn't just a mistake! We're talking about a son. He's out there fathering kids!"

  "Okay, then it was a huge mistake. But I think sometimes you expect too much of your father."

  "Expecting him to honor his vows to be faithful to my mom is too much to ask?"

  "You put your dad on a pedestal. And that's okay. You should admire him, but everyone needs room to make a mistake sometimes."

  "Now you think I should forgive Pops, don't you?"

  "Whether you forgive him or not is up to you. In my opinion, forgiving is healthy. But I think you first need to accept that your dad isn't perfect"

  She had verbalized the same concerns that weighed on his mind. He hated that she was echoing his feelings. Because he wasn't ready to do anything about them yet.

  "This is none of your business, Dana"

  "You're right, it's none of my business. Excuse me for caring."

  "It's not that" He pinched his nose harder. "You just don't understand"

  "Don't understand? Oh, I understand, Gabe. I understand that you idolize your father and don't want to admit that he can make mistakes like an ordinary person. You let him run your life-"

  "Pops doesn't run my life."

  "-and you're starting to worry that if your perfect daddy who-let's admit it-runs your life isn't as perfect as you thought, then what does that say about you? What does that say about the life you've let him create for you? Maybe it's not all it was cracked up to be, maybe it's not all so perfect, maybe it's time you learned to make your own decisions."