Page 23 of Requiem

Brett 7

“He really said that?” Maggie shrieks. I can hear the creaking of the old swing that we sat on, just yesterday afternoon.

“Shhhh! Maggie, I keep telling you, my mother has superhuman hearing. You’ve got to keep your voice down …”

“Sorry!” she whispers.

“Yes, he said that,” I sigh tiredly. “It would just be so much easier if he’d make it work here in Detroit. But Mags, I know my brother. I can tell he’s hatching some crazy plan in that twisted mind of his.”

She’s silent for a long moment.

“Brett, here’s the thing about sociopaths, they do like to be exposed.”

“As what? Sociopaths?”

“As anything. They hate having their plans ruined. They hate being caught in a lie. And more than anything, they hate being exposed as anything other than what they want you to see them as.”

“What are you trying to tell me, Mags? That my brother can throw one hell of a temper tantrum? I already know that.”

“Babe, for as many years as you’ve been subjected to your brother, I’ll bet you’ve barely seen the tip of the iceberg with him. He obviously still sees Julia and Matthew as the people who destroyed his perfectly planned rise to fame and fortune. He resents the hell out of your mother for cutting him out of your father’s will. And then there’s you...”

“What about me?”

“He perceives you as disloyal. In his mind, you abandoned him to be with me. You cheated him out of the money from the garage. And, probably your worst sin, in his eyes, is your disloyalty for befriending Julia and Matthew. You’re right to think he might be plotting something. All I’m saying is please keep your eyes open. Someone like Jeremy will go a long way to protect himself. And the rage that comes with that is mind-boggling.”

I rub my eyes and stare longingly at the minibar. I’ve been avoiding it, trying to get by on the two beers that I had back at the bar, but I’m starting to think a teeny tiny bottle of liquid loving might be just what I need to take the edge off and get to sleep. She must sense that I can’t deal with this right now, because she softens her manner.

“I’m sorry, Brett, I didn’t mean to get you all stressed out while you’re exhausted and on the road. What about your concert tonight? Did it go alright?”

I kick my shoes off and flop on the extra-springy hotel room mattress.

“Could’ve been better, that’s for sure. I kept glancing into the audience to see if he was out there somewhere.”

“And was he?”

“No, not that I could see, anyway.”

“Well, no matter. You’re done with Detroit now, right?”

“One more show; a matinee tomorrow. The others are hanging for an extra day to catch a concert by the Detroit Phil. They’ve got a new hotshot conductor from Europe.”

“But you don’t want to see Jeremy again,” she finishes my thought.

“Exactly. So, I’m thinking I’ll catch an earlier flight tomorrow evening. Julia will be in Chicago by then, too. I’ll take her and David out for dinner or something.”

“You’ve gotten really attached to that little boy, haven’t you?”

“More than I ever thought I would,” I admit. “Knowing he’s half Jeremy should be a repellant, but turns out it’s just the opposite. I know it sounds kind of strange, but I think of David as the kid my brother should have been.”

Maggie thinks about that for a long moment.

“I get that,” she whispers her reply into the phone. “There’s something very familiar about him to you. It’s like he’s your brother, but better.”

“Exactly.”

“Have you given anymore thought to telling your mother about him?”

We’ve had this discussion before, but she doesn’t like my answer. So, she brings it up again from time to time, hoping it will change.