Mine

Chapter 7

"Did you call?" Frank asked of Gale over his morning cereal.

Gale made a sour face. "I better do that now before something else comes up." He pushed away from the table.

My brother left cereal to turn soggy? What could be that important?

Gale went into the hall toward his bedroom.

"Who is he calling?"

"Your father."

The muscles across my shoulders tensed. "Why?"

"Well..." He stirred his cereal to avoid looking at me. Tiny brown o's bobbed in a circle like a hundred lifesavers with no people to save. "Let's see what John says first. If he agrees, then we'll tell you."

Meaning 'it' possessed a high probability of ticking me off. Fantastic. No, I would act like Kenny. Everyone liked Kenny. At least, all the people on my stupid list did. And Kenny never overreacted.

"Eat. This could take a while." Frank dug in. I suspected he wanted to keep food in his mouth to avoid answering any questions I might ask.

I lifted a spoonful of o's. They looked too sad to eat. I imagined all the tiny people they were supposed to save who no longer existed. Who were gone. Went down with the ship. Did the debris of the Titanic look like my bowl? All kinds of stuff which were supposed to save people drifting away unused? How guilty did the Titanic's designer feel after?

After.

The history books all focused on the sinking of the Titanic then the safety laws which were passed because it sank. No one talked about the families destroyed by it. How it impacted society in ways other than some laws passed. Wouldn't losing that many people in a supposedly safe place rock the foundations of society? You were not supposed to lose loved ones where they were safe. There should be laws against it.

There were laws against it. People like my dad and brother upheld those laws. Why weren't they there?

Why weren't they where? On the Titanic?

My headache came back in full force and I never had found the stupid icepack.

"Kenny?"

I had to blink a few times before the unreal blue eyes across from me came into focus. "Sorry, did you say something?"

"I asked if you felt all right."

Pressing a palm to my temple, I dropped the sinking brown lifesavers back into their milk ocean. "Headache."

Without a word, Frank leaped up from the table. Most big guys moved like they were smaller people controlling a Big Man Suit. Frank knew his body and it showed in the way he moved. Fluid, as if he were performing a ballet instead of filling a bag with ice. After he screwed on the top he returned to the table with the same grace of movement.

"It's a go!" Gale waved a smartphone above his head as he exited the hall. When he spoke it was to Frank as if I were in a different room. "You may want to wait this out in another room."

"I'm good." Frank gave us a shrug. "It's not a big deal."

"Yeah, well, I'll believe that when I see it."

Gale had changed clothes. I couldn't believe it escaped my notice until he pulled out his chair at the kitchen table. He wore tan pants with a dark blue stripe down the outside pants leg and a matching tan shirt with epaulets framed with the same dark blue. A gold badge shone on his chest proclaiming 'SHERIFF.' When I peered under the table black boots shone.

"You joined the sheriff's department?" Surely my eyes played tricks on me. "And Dad forgave you?"

"He kind of had to." This time Frank's smile beamed. It matched his eyes. "After your brother was elected."

"Elected?" They elected people to the sheriff's department? What kind of place was this?

"Coffee ready?" Gale abandoned his chair for the quiet and empty coffee pot. "Ken, uh, Kenny can come to work with me until Dad calls. I can take a couple of hours off to drive you two there and back."

"Don't be silly, Paul can drive. After we can all go out to lunch in Buda." Frank winked at me while Gale had his back to us. "Since you're taking the early shift, if it's a quiet day we'll only beat you home by an hour or two."

"Meaning I can't work late." Gale carried the empty glass pot to the sink. As the pot filled this scene struck me as intimately familiar. My brother filling the coffee pot with water. Sitting at the kitchen table. The only thing missing was Dad sitting across from me reading the morning paper. Every morning after Gale enrolled at the police academy had started like this.

When he turned off the water Gale hesitated at the sink. He stared down into his pot of water as if it held the answer to the mysteries of Life. When Gale spoke, his words were directed at the water. "I don't know if that's a good idea. I should go."

A shrill beeping split the air. Gale set the pot of water on the counter while tugging his smartphone from his breast pocket with the other. The action appeared natural, well rehearsed. When he saw the lit screen, my brother frowned.

"I may take you up on that offer, Frank. Excuse me for a few minutes."

Gale pressed his thumb against the screen before lifting it to his ear. As he walked out of the kitchen I heard him say, "Sheriff Brothers here."

Sheriff. No wonder Dad forgave him. When did that happen, anyway?

"When was he elected?" When I turned back to the table, Frank had a confused look. "I should know that, right?"

"I'd hoped you would." He let out a deep sigh as he stood up. Frank retrieved the pot of water from beside the sink. "Two years ago. I know you'll have a lot to discuss today, but maybe you ought to work in a little about your relationship with your brother."

"I'm discussing?"

Frank poured a small cup of coffee grounds into the top of the maker. "You know, with the therapist."

"What therapist?" Alarm bells went off in my head. After one day Gale had nearly busted me several times. No way could I fool a professional for long. Maybe I would like my padded room.

"Oh, right. Gale never got around to that, did he?" Frank shrugged before pouring the water into the coffee maker's reservoir. He talked louder over the sound of splashing water. "You're taking my therapist appointment today."

It took a moment for the two most important parts of that sentence to register. First, yes, I would have to try to fool a professional. Second, Frank saw this same therapist on a regular basis.

"He's good. Professional. And everything you say is confidential."

I wondered how much fear registered on my face to provoke those assurances. However they worked. Confidential. Perhaps I wouldn't need to fool the professional. What if I could use him to help me piece together the mystery of how my Life went to absolute shit after age fifteen?

"Everything?"

Frank mashed a button on the front of the coffee maker. A bright green light came on followed by the happy sounds of coffee percolating.

"As long as you are not a danger to others or yourself," Frank locked gazes with me, "then yes, everything is confidential. You can discuss whatever you need."

Not whatever I wanted, he expected me to discuss what I needed. I needed to figure out how I turned into Ken the asshole and stop it from happening again.