Fitting in

Chapter 13

   Simon lived in a large apartment complex, in the nexus of the city. The complex was advertising fun activities and businesses in framed poster boards all along the building hallways, and Brett even noticed an advertisement for the coffee shop. She paused in front of the advertisement and looked down at her phone in order to re-read Simon’s address number. After climbing three flights of stairs, and tripping down one, Brett arrived at a green door covered in drawings. She figured this had to be Simon’s house, because the floor mat in front of the door also said hola.

   Brett looked down at her pink and white floral dress and brown sandals. She re-tightened her ponytail and reached over to knock on the door. There was silence then the sound of slow footsteps coming towards her.

   A taller replica of Simon opened the door. His eyes were a darker brown than Simon’s, and he wasn’t nearly as muscled, more on the skinny side. But the man still had the same crazy curly hair Brett had become so familiar with, and even a set of dimples on his face.

   “Hello.” Brett said.

   The man motioned her to come in then sat down at the dinner table staring vacantly at nothing in particular. Brett walked in slowly and shut the door.

  “You must be Simon’s brother, you guys look so much alike.”

   He pointed to a note on the fridge then began to scratch at the dinning table with his fingernails. Brett turned to where he pointed and read the note.

 Hey Brett,

   My Mom just realized she didn’t have some ingredients for tonight’s perfect meal. (she told me to write the perfect part). So we went out the get them, we’ll be back soon. Get comfortable and yea, that’s my brother, his name is Marc.

   Okay so she’d only be alone with him for a while. Brett sat down at the table next to Marc, and watched him pick at the dinner table. Thinking like her mother she got up, found paper, and a pencil, and handed them to him; no need to destroy a good table.

   Marc began to sketch out a person and Brett watched him intently. The person was beautiful, features proportional, well muscled, but as Marc continued to draw the beauty died and so did the human. There was a hole through the person’s heart but no blood, Marc seemed satisfied with the drawing and slid it over to Brett.

   “Why are you giving me this? He’s dead?”

   “I hate people.” He mumbled mindlessly.

   “That attitude is never going to get you anywhere. You’re always going to be surrounded by people, even after you die. In heaven there will be happy people, in hell there will be suffering people, if you believe in neither there’s people here on earth, so you better learn to get along with them now.”

   Marc looked up at Brett confused and took back the paper; he erased the whole in the person’s heart and slid it back.

   “People are dead.”

   “Why?"

   “We live to die, why prolong the process.”

   “To make others happy as you go along I guess.”

   Marc squinted at Brett then picked up his pencil and continued to draw. Brett watched him then she began to draw herself. Simon and  his mother walked into their house holding groceries, to the sight of Brett and Marc painting the pictures they had been previously drawing.

   Simon’s mother actually dropped her bags and Simon caught them at just the right moment.

   “What on earth mom she’s just a friend?” Simon said with his back facing the two of them. He shut the door, turned around, and then dropped his bags also. Vegetables and a wheel of cheese went rolling on the floor, and Brett felt like she was about to panic.