FAÇADE, 4
“What’s the point of dragging me out here, Ray?”
Without hesitation he says, “I’ve been thinking about people lately.”
Though the last words on my mind, I say, “Fuck people.”
He replies, “And look where that has gotten you.”
“Better off than you are.”
I slam the .22 down and walk for the backdoor, when Ray says, “Some people only need someone special to hold their hand and reassure them in times of doubt. And when they’re confident and move on, sometimes they don’t think twice about it all.” Fires. Reloads.
“Man, spit it out,” I respond. “I’ve got these two twins up there, and you’re beating around the bush.”
“That’s redundant.”
“What is?” I ask him. “It’s just a turn of phrase.”
“No,” he says, “‘two twins.’” Ray checks his gun to see if it’s loaded. He fires two simultaneous shots. “Ever since I moved in–since Mom–you’ve had a different girl over every night.” He gulps down the last of his drink. Reloads.
“You’ve got two seconds to step off,” I shout and then recognize the unintentional volume of my voice. “I’d hate to kick my own brother out on the streets.”
Ray fires his gun and says, “I’m not calling you a womanizer or anything; nothing like that. But I want to know exactly who you think you are.”
I slide the door open and step inside the house. “Goodnight, Ray,” I tell him.
Without hesitation he says, “I’ve been thinking about people lately.”
Though the last words on my mind, I say, “Fuck people.”
He replies, “And look where that has gotten you.”
“Better off than you are.”
I slam the .22 down and walk for the backdoor, when Ray says, “Some people only need someone special to hold their hand and reassure them in times of doubt. And when they’re confident and move on, sometimes they don’t think twice about it all.” Fires. Reloads.
“Man, spit it out,” I respond. “I’ve got these two twins up there, and you’re beating around the bush.”
“That’s redundant.”
“What is?” I ask him. “It’s just a turn of phrase.”
“No,” he says, “‘two twins.’” Ray checks his gun to see if it’s loaded. He fires two simultaneous shots. “Ever since I moved in–since Mom–you’ve had a different girl over every night.” He gulps down the last of his drink. Reloads.
“You’ve got two seconds to step off,” I shout and then recognize the unintentional volume of my voice. “I’d hate to kick my own brother out on the streets.”
Ray fires his gun and says, “I’m not calling you a womanizer or anything; nothing like that. But I want to know exactly who you think you are.”
I slide the door open and step inside the house. “Goodnight, Ray,” I tell him.
