I own it not.
Brothers... outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and trust. Erica E. Goode
"I'm sorry." Chief Collig repeated, and Frank was alarmed to see tears running down his cheeks. What had happened? "Boys, there's been an accident. Your parents...your parents are dead."
A simple sentence. It sent Frank's world spinning. Dead? It couldn't be. That couldn't be right. A car accident? Chief Collig was still talking but Frank couldn't hear him. The words didn't seem to make sense anymore.
He felt a hand slide into his. He looked down, then at his brother. Joe's mouth was open and he was swaying on the spot, looking green. His eyes were wide open and dirt still streaked his face. A week ago he'd turned sixteen. He looked so much younger.
Then Joe bolted, his hand ripping out of Frank's. Frank took a second to get his bearings before going after him.
He found Joe heaving on the side of the house. Frank knelt next to him, his hand rubbing his back. "I know..." Frank murmured as spasms shot up Joe's spine. "I know."
A few minutes later Joe stood up straight, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He looked scared and confused. Frank wordlessly held out his arms and felt his brother collapse into them, sobs racking his body. Frank smoothed back Joe's hair, putting his head on top of his brother's.
Slowly, the started walking back to Chief Collig. Joe's hand once again snaked towards Frank's, then dropped. Since they had started working on cases Joe had tried to be tough, and often was, never showing any fear. Now Frank reached down and grabbed his brother's hand, and was rewarded with a small squeeze.
They stepped carefully over the flower bed, so meticulously planted by their mother summers ago. She wouldn't be there to tend it anymore.
Chief Collig was still there. Frank saw that he was agitated, more distressed by this news then he'd ever been. The man looked imploringly at the boys, and Frank realized he was hurt too.
"Do you have someone to stay with?" Chief Collig asked after a short pause. Frank shook his head. Aunt Gertrude had died two years ago and the only other relatives they had lived out west somewhere, in Wyoming or Wisconsin.
"We're staying here." Frank was surprised by how steady his voice was.
Chief Collig nodded like he understood. "I'll be here. Call me if you need anything at all." He started towards the police cruiser, then spun around. "I'm sorry, boys, truly I am. Your parents...they were great people."
Frank nodded, not knowing what else to do. The words registered as lame. They were inadequate to describe the pain that he felt right now. How his stomach was twisted in so many tiny, fiery knots.
Frank gently lead Joe into the house, opening the unlocked door. The first thing he saw was his mother's bright yellow umbrella. He moved his eyes, glazing over Fenton's favorite jacket, slung carelessly over a chair.
He walked further in, his grip on Joe like iron. He sat down on the arm of the couch. He couldn't bring himself to go upstairs. He fell backwards, his brother toppling on top of him.
They started crying then. It was the first tears Frank had shed over his parent's death. His arms locked around Joe's thin body, holding him. The only stable thing he had right now.
The brothers cried for hours, as the reality sank in. Out of pure exhaustion they fell asleep, not wanting to face the morning.
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