"Theress he is!" Brian said as Adam stepped into the small room at the back of the barn that had once been their father's office. He lifted his shot glass to Adam, and after draining it, immediately poured himself another drink, draining it too.
"Take it easy, Bri."
"You wan some?" Brian was well into the bottle. "No! Not you." He leaned forward. "You, you know what you are?" He pointed a finger at Adam, pausing only to drink another shot of whisky.
"Hey, Bri. Why don't you go and lie down, huh? Come on, I'll help you inside." Adam hated when Brian drank like this. He knew he couldn't stop him. Brian was the one brother he had absolutely no control over.
"You are a saint! Thatss what they say!" Brian said. "You raised those boyss. All by yerself."
"That's not true. You know that's not true. Brian. Just because other people get it wrong, doesn't mean I do. Knock it off." Adam felt his temper rising.
"Nope! Nobodys but you did it. And what about ole Brian? He's justa, justa rabble-rouser. Poor Adamss got lots of troubless."
Brian set aside the shot glass, and lifted the bottle to his lips.
"That's enough, Brian."
"I'm gonna drink it all!" Brian raised his voice angrily. "It ain't like hesss gonann come back to check. He ain't ever gonna know! Hesss dead! Ain't you heard we are poor little orphanss boyss now."
Adam wiped a hand over his face, and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He knew from experience he just had to wait Brian out. Frustrated, he waited for the inevitable.
"Uh oh! Adamsss mad. He doesn't like ole Brian drinking." He lifted the bottle to his lips again. "Knock it off, Brian! That's what Adam'll sayy. Good ollllllle sssaint Adam!" He looked up at Adam with angry, pain-filled eyes. "Ford jussst about died, but he'll keep on going. Gotta keep going. Make Daddy proud!"
"Brian, I . . ." Adam was too overwhelmed with a mix of rage and pity.
"You ought getta girl. Thatsss yourr problem. Nothing seriousss - not like ole Lizzy who broke your little heart. Sssome funns for you." He lifted the bottle to take another drink, but found it was empty. "You take thingsss to seriousmly. You jusst need ssome fun."
Adam said nothing, but seeing that Brian was beginning to nod his head, helped his brother up and over to a cot that ran along the back wall. Brian complied sitting down, and Adam lifted his legs up onto the cot.
"Gonna tuck ole Brian in. I thougt Little Fordie was dead for sssure. Did you? He'ssssss not dead though. And itsss back to working, working, working working and never going nowheres. You and me forever. Ain't that the life? Me and Adammsss."
Adam found an old wool blanket, and silently laid it over Brian, who was already closing his eyes. "Getting up tomorrowsss gonna be a real son of a bitch, huh? Stupid cowwwsss. Don't know to sleep in. I hate them cowsss. Don't you? Don't you wanna run? One of these daysss, just keep going no looking back . . ." He closed his eyes. "Not Adam, no. Hesss the good one. He just keepss going going going. Brotherssss first. That's what Mama said. Brotherssss til you die." His eyes popped open and he grabbed Adam by the front of his shirt and pulling him close he said seriously, "You and me are dead already. You know that, right? Everything we wanted died with them. Our livess are over too." He released his hold and collapsed, almost instantly asleep.
Adam staggered back and studied Brian. He was filled with a mix of fury, and love for him. This is why he hated when Brian got drunk. All the things they never said would come spilling out, and it hurt like a wound. The dark things that were best kept buried would surface. That's why they had a strict rule - two beers. But on three separate occasions, Brian had gotten completely wasted, and each time, Adam had been horrified by the dark thoughts he expressed.
He was shaken by it. It felt like looking into a mirror expecting to see yourself, but instead discovering a hideous monster.
Because everything Brian said was true.
Their lives were over. All Adam's plans and hopes for himself were gone. And everyday, for the rest of his life, he'd be responsible for his six brothers; next of kin; guardian. Even when they were grown, if something happened it would be Adam who'd be called. Forever.
He hated when Brian got drunk because he spoke all of Adam's dark secrets aloud.
He did want to run.
He mourned his old life of freedom.
Sometimes he even hated his responsibilities.
Sometimes he was angry with his parents for abandoning him.
Sometimes that sight of his brothers filled him with such anger.
He walked away from the barn wishing he could move away from his own dark thoughts; his own dark heart. He crossed the yard and climbed the stairs, checking to make sure his brothers were asleep; checking to make sure Ford was warm. Ford rolled over in sleep, and opened his eyes for the briefest of moments.
"Adam," He whispered softly, a smile passing over his face before he drifted back to sleep.
A wave of love swept over Adam, and it was as though he were at sea, tossed back and forth between the waves of love and contentment, and those of despair and anger.
He went to his room, and put a blanket back over Guthrie who always kicked them off. He sat down on the window seat looking out over the ranch; his father's ranch. In the darkness of the night, the ranch's outlines were beautiful dark blue, and deep purple lines that extended to the horizon. In the darkness, you could see the details; the pens, fences, and corrals that made up the Circle Bar M. You couldn't see his mother's roses, or garden that his younger brother's faithfully tended. You couldn't see all the places that he walked beside his father; always looking up and listening.
He sighed. It had been such a good night. He'd been so proud of Crane, and it was such a beautiful celebration of Ford restored to them. It seemed that every time they had a good day, it would stir up old memories in one of them, and underneath the happiness and joy would be a well of anguish. He was angry with Brian. He had wanted to lay his head down, and sleep peacefully for once; just for once. And now he couldn't sleep at all, too burdened with the guilt and pain of knowing that sometimes he resented his brothers and his responsibilities.
Damn it!
Brian was sleeping peacefully, passed out. He'd remember little of what he'd said - or at least he'd pretend not to remember. But his words would hang over Adam like a cloud for days and days to come. He was sick of it! Sick of dark feelings that swirled inside and made him feel more alone than ever. A lost boy with no one at all. Brian wasn't just his right hand man - he was his right hand. He could never keep the ranch going and take care of his brothers too. And no one understood it all better than Brian - because it was something the two of them went through together.
He leaned against the wall and glanced around the disaster that was their bedroom. The twin beds parallel to each other with Guthrie's little bed in between. Guthrie sighed in his sleep. The sound of his deep contentment diffused some of Adam's anger. He stood looking down at his littlest responsibility with a quick glance at the clock. Guthrie would wake up in a few hours; crying. From the day that they had laid their parents to rest, Guthrie had begun waking up every night. He used to awaken crying out, "Mama! Mama! Mama!" His broken-hearted cries, shattering his older brothers. Over time, he had stopped asking for her. He usually woke sobbing and calling out for Adam. Although, no longer hearing him beg for his mother was less painful, the fact that Guthrie had resigned himself to a life without her was a deep wound in itself.
He sat on the side of his bed, studying his little brother. What would he know of his parents? What would he understand of what it meant to be a McFadden? He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Adam wasn't a man to sit and brood. He was a problem-solver; a fixer; a doer. The trouble with the anguish that he and Brian faced was the helplessness. A life of being forced to accept whatever comes your way, and have no say in any of it.
He walked across the room and began to dig through the piles of stuff on the desk, until he found a pen and paper.
Adam McFadden, Jr. wasn't a victim and neither was Brian Jacob McFadden. They were men of action and even if they couldn't change their circumstances, they could change how they felt about them. He sat down at the window seat and began to sketch. It was time to do something different; it was time for something new; a symbol that would show their were helpless, orphan boys no more.
Author's Note:
I had been meaning to mention that I created the character of the teacher, Esther Simmons in honor of all the really great teachers out there. I've taught with both kinds of teachers Jacobs and Simmons, and in my experience there are more of Simmons than there are of Jacobs - thank God! You need at least three Simmons to undo the damage of one Jacobs! I know lots and lots of teachers who go out of their way to make sure that their students receive the love and care they need - even buying a lighter on their way to school in the morning just to show a student that they are safe at last.
As to this chapter, I just want to say that I adore all the McFadden boys. As you know Adam is probably my favorite, but I have come to have a deep appreciation for the complexities that make up Brian. He has a moody, darkness and wildness, that Adam cannot afford to ever indulge in. He was the eternal sidekick - working just as hard as Adam, giving up just as much, but rarely thanked or even mentioned. It truly is too bad that there were just those few episodes because despite the corniness and the singing, they created some pretty complicated characters. It would have been interesting to see them develop more.