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sabrinar. ~'arke

,Brady~had one last chore to get done before he ended his

life, and it,wasn't one easily gotten around. The ruddy lamp

,and t'he shadow of 'the gaping bathroom door told him so, All

he could taste was the sweet, perfect conclus~on of things,

sharp and sad like champagne on ~ew Year's.

He'd awakened that morning with a pimple half hidden

'beneath his,right eyebrow~ When he'd looked in the mirror

with the dingy Colgate toothbrush,hanging out one side of

his mouth,',the zit had burped back at him, stretched to

bursting Li.ke a puffer fish. That alone had made the whole

day+t he one, that hadn't happened yet-rise in his throat

like acid and digest. So he'd methodically dropped the

toilet seat~just the way Bethany had always told him to but

he'd never done-and straightened the vinyl shower curtain

with bubbles on'it, and rolled on some Old 'Spice because

he hadn't showered since the night before last and it was

getting bad: , ' "

- His closet was ar'r ariqed that morning because he'd

cleaned it out the night before. It was ironically difficult

to find'anything coherent;,to wear. He didn't care too much

about looking sharp, what with his upcoming fate and all,

,but he could imagine the look on Beth's face if she caught

,him in anything less than casual. She had always been 'so

suStle,in her scorn. Instead bf just criticizing, delivering

it plai~ly like a normal person would do, she'd douse you

with sweet perspective of how things were, how you used to

be, how good that was, how nice it would be if-whatever.'

Just like when he'd come home/rom Radio Shack and found his'

'camouflage backpack atop a 'stuffed red suitcase by the front

d~or. She 'had waited for him, holding Jackie just beyond

'f.,h'eentryway, one hand on his head and another beneath his,

diaper. That was, when he'd been tiny as a doll; born two

'weeks premature with,his mother's pretty little nose' and

mild gray eyes. In the hospital Beth had held him in the

;blue blanket and Brady 'had come over and kissed her on the

'forehead as his,'hands trembled, for something to hold. Maybe

h~'d~known'even!then.

Jackie was five year's old, now. He was remarkably calm

for that age, Brady thought; though he didn't exactly have

the most experience when'it came to childLen. It was like

his dad always said, like he'd said again when Brady'had sat

him down at the wrought iron table where the shadows of the

peachtrees seemed to swell with the odor of fresh blossoms.