behind her ear, then returned her hand to her lap. “Sweetie, it wasn’t about that. If I’d told him, it would’ve meant telling everyone. I was eighteen years old. I just wanted to live my life. I didn’t want to be Holly Burke.”
47
“Hey, buddy. Buddy . . .”
The shoulder twitched under the blanket and there was a low groan and Danny shook him once more, “Buddy, come on, wake up,” and at last Marky rolled over and opened his eyes and lay blinking up at him in the dark.
“Danny . . . what are you doing?”
“I’m waking you up. It’s like waking up a dead man.”
“What time is it?”
“Keep your voice down. It’s two o’clock.”
“Danny tomorrow is Monday.”
“It’s already Monday.”
“Danny . . .”
“Just—hey, Marky, come on. I gotta talk to you for a second.” He’d been sitting there awhile in the chair and he could see his brother well by the light from the farmlight where it shone through the curtains. Marky dug his knuckles into his eyes and then got himself up on his elbows. He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth to yawn.
“Here, drink some water. Your breath could strip the paint off a car.”
“Your breath could strip the paint off a car Danny.”
Marky drank the water and smacked his lips and handed back the glass. He piled his two pillows against the headboard and drew himself up into a sitting position. He wore a dark T-shirt and his biceps were white as milk. Danny poked the near one with his finger. When they were teenagers they’d had barbells in the garage—Marky so weirdly, so effortlessly strong that Danny had begun working out in the gym at school to catch up.
“You been working out, buddy?”
“No Danny just working.”
“They got you lifting cars down there, or what?”
“No we got the lifts for that.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
Danny glanced around the room, at the dark shapes of the desk and the dresser, the gleam of the picture frames on the desk, pictures mostly from long ago when they were boys and their father was still alive. Missing was the picture of the two married couples, the Youngs and the Burkes, standing before a storefront with their arms all around each other and grinning, that picture lost somehow in the move from the old house to the farmhouse, or so he’d thought until, home for Christmas two years ago and digging in Marky’s dresser for wool socks, he’d found it at the bottom of the drawer.
“You like working at the garage?” he asked Marky.
“Sure I do but not as much as the Plumbing Supply though.”
“Why not?”
“Cause you’re not there Danny.”
“Yeah. Jeff’s there, though.”
“Jeff’s there.”
“Jeff’s been a good friend, hasn’t he.”
“Jeff’s been a good friend Danny we’ve been friends with Jeff since we were all little boys.”
“I know it. How about Mr. Wabash. You like working for him?”
“Sure I like working for him. He could give you a job too Danny.”
“Yeah, I doubt it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t think he likes me very much.”
“He likes you Danny everybody likes you.”
“No, they don’t, buddy. You know that’s why I went away. Why I always have to go away.”
Marky looked down at his hands in his lap. “It’s because of Holly Burke.”
“It’s because of Holly Burke.”
“That was a long time ago Danny.”
“I know it.”
“And it wasn’t your fault you didn’t have nothing to do with Holly Burke going into the river.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I know that Danny,” Marky said, “we used to play with her when we were little she was our friend.”
Danny sat looking into his brother’s eyes in the light of the farmlight, Marky looking into his. And then Marky looked at Danny’s clothes, his heavy winter shirt and his jeans and his socks, and he said, “You’re leaving again aren’t you Danny.”
“I’m leaving again. I’m all packed up. I just wanted to say good-bye.”
“What about Momma?”
“I don’t want to wake her up—she’ll just start crying and she’ll be up all night worrying. You can tell her for me in the morning. All right?”
“All right but she’s gonna cry anyway Danny she always cries.”
“I know it.”
“I wish I could go with you Danny.”
“I do too. But you got your job, and you gotta take care of Ma.”
“I know it,” said Marky.
They were silent. Marky’s eyes gleaming in the dark. Danny leaning forward, his forearms on his knees and gripping one hand in the other.
“What?” said Marky.
“What what?”
“You’re gonna say something Danny.”
Danny smiled. “Yeah, all right. I’m gonna say something. But it’s just between you and me, OK?”