A black and white police car rolled past the laundromat. Gray paused in loading the washing machine to watch it pass, a cold feeling tickling his stomach. He glanced over at Roman, who was sitting on one of the folding tables swinging his feet back and forth as he stretched a cat's cradle between his fingers.
Gray took another couple of quarters out of his pocket and slid them into the machine. His eyes flicked back to his brother and the stuffed wolf sitting on his lap, "We could throw Lupe in here. It's been a little while now."
Roman's eyes went wide, and he clutched the wolf as his string fluttered to the ground, "And leave her here?!"
"Just while we're over in the grocery," Gray shook his head. "No one's going to..."
"No."
The frown was resolute.
"Alright, alright," Gray laughed, closing the door and hitting the start button. He watched as the clothes began to swirl and then stared at his reflection trapped in their center. The eyes that stared back at him were grey and tired, "I won't force you."
Roman smiled at him as he picked up the cat's cradle and restrung it around his fingers. Gray tousled his hair before dumping out the laundry basket and start folding its contents—only to pause again as someone walked by the window.
It can't be.
He craned his neck, eyes following the shadow down the street. Roman nudged him with his sneaker, and Gray shook off the daze, hurriedly resuming his folding. Roman shook his head and offered him the cat's cradle, kicking him again.
Gray set the laundry back in the basket and perched himself on the counter beside his brother. Roman lifted the cradle again, and Gray pinched the strings together and twisted it onto his hands. Something came loose, and what he ended up offering back to Roman was little more than a shameful knot, "Sorry."
Roman shrugged, easily unraveling it back into a simple loop. Gray smiled apologetically and looped an arm around his brother's shoulders as Roman began restringing the pattern.
It was moments like these that made all of it worth it. They were bricks—all the smiles and frowns and shrugs and sideways glances and yawns and wry grins and sleepy I love you's—building a wall to keep out the rest of the world.
Never mind the dissatisfaction on his brother's face, the dissatisfaction he felt, creeping in like a crack in the foundation. This was enough. This had always been enough.
Gray smiled at his brother and slipped off the table, "Ready to go?"
The grocery store was uneventful until they reached the cereal aisle. Gray was going to walk right on past, but Roman planted his feet in front of the Count Chocula and Franken Berry and resumed his year-long contemplation of which rival to back.
Gray made a point of standing in front of Baron von Redberry and Sir Grapefellow display on the endcap, praying Roman wouldn't see. He let out a frustrated sigh as Roman examined a box of newcomer Boo Berry with consternation, looking up just as someone turned the corner.
Gray felt his body go stiff, and Roman paused in his cereal debate to look over his shoulder. The elder brother grabbed the Boo Berry and chucked it in the cart, desperate to get to the next aisle before the shadow spotted them, but Roman lingered, staring at the familiar face. He pointed him out to his brother, who hissed at him to hurry up.
The not-quite stranger's hand paused halfway to the box of Kellogg's as his eyes landed on Gray's. Gray stared back, lips slightly parted like he'd been sucker-punched. Roman blew past him, forgetting the Boo Berry and hugging the dark-haired young man across from them.
"Hey, Kiddo."
Gray watched him tousle Roman's hair, the smile on his face easy and light-hearted. A stranger only made strange by the years. How many had passed now? Gray closed his mouth and forced up a strained smile as that grin turned towards him.
"Hey."
"Joseph," was all he managed to get out.
God, he looked just the same as he had when he'd left. His thick, black hair slicked back just like always, though his olive skin was tanner than it had been before. Los Angeles sunshine beat Aventine rain any day, or that's what Joseph had always said. It was the smile that got him—perfect white teeth flashing like diamonds.
"Nice to see you too, Gray."
Gray shook his head, the apology dying on his lips.
Joseph laughed, "It's been a long time, huh?"
"Yeah..." Gray rubbed at the back of his neck, "How... how are you?"
"The same," the old friend shrugged, "The town looks different from the outside."
"Yeah..." Gray looked away with an awkward little laugh. "Yeah, I suppose it would..."
"And you?" Joseph looked him up and down, stepping closer. Gray shrunk back, "You look tired."
Gray felt his nose wrinkle, "So you're here for the service."
It wasn't a question.
Joseph eyed him warily, "Actually, I came up for the Fourth—"
I wasn't planning on ruining your afternoon. I knew you wouldn't want to see me.
"—but yeah," Joseph gave a somber sort of shrug, "It looks like I'll be staying a little while longer now..."
I'm here if you need me. All you have to do is ask.
"Right."
"Well, I had to come back sometime, didn't I?"
Gray bit his lip, looking away again. Joseph shook his head disbelievingly, "Come on, Gray. You're not still mad at me, are you?"
"Mad?" Roman wandered back over to Gray and grabbed his hand, as if that alone could take the sting out of his brother's voice, "What, because I'm here fulfilling my responsibilities and you're off chasing pipe dreams?"
"Pipe dreams," Joseph scoffed.
"What the hell else do you call it?" Gray narrowed his eyes derisively. "Running off to California to be a movie star. I wouldn't be surprised if you're still bussing tables."
Joseph bristled, "I happen to be waiting tables now."
Gray rolled his eyes.
"Don't pretend you're not still working the soda fountain at Milton's like you were in high school," Joseph snapped. "I saw you the other day in that same, humiliating striped uniform."
Gray blushed, looking away. His brother squeezed his hand, but Gray avoided his eyes, knowing what he would see there. He scrunched his eyes shut: You wouldn't understand.
Joseph ventured another step closer, and Gray quickly stepped behind his cart—anything to keep the distance between them. He felt those bright blue eyes bore into the top of his head. Joseph's gaze lingered, long and heavy. It broke away finally with a shrug of surrender:
"We should catch up before I leave, go for a drink 'r something..."
An olive branch.
"...if you're up for it."
Gray kept his eyes on the linoleum, lacking the strength to meet the gaze. Instead, he tightened his grip on his brother's hand and turned his back, "I'll think about it."
It was such a pathetic reply, but he didn't trust himself to say anything more. These were the things he'd buried alive, tried to smother and suffocate. Every maroon Aventine High varsity jacket, every drive past D'Angelo's red neon sign, every whiff of Brylcreem threatened to exhume them, and with just a look, the man standing at his back had brought them back to life again.
So Gray kept silent, fearful of the feelings beneath his feet, as Joseph tried again, "I'll see you 'round, Gray."
"Yeah."
Gray kept his head down until they were headed home in the Rambler. The headache followed him; he struggled to keep his thoughts on the road. His brother was silent beside him, eyes fixed on Lupe's black plastic ones.
Gray caught his brother's furtive glance.
"What?"
"I thought Joseph was your friend."
"Yeah..."
Roman stared at him with wide eyes, "Is he not anymore?"
"He's... Look, it's complicated," Gray felt his face flush. "You don't have to worry about it, ok?"
There was a long silence before his brother ventured:
"Joseph knew Arnold."
"It's a small town, Roman," his laugh was forced and uncomfortable.
The little boy looked him straight on, face grave, "Joseph knows about—"
"Yes, he does," Gray cut him off. He turned on the radio and cranked up the volume, a sign that the conversation was over. There was a deep silence beneath the music.
The elder brother did his best to focus straight ahead, but the younger had his sights trained on the past.