wouldn’t stop until Rube was in his bed and I was standing over him, protecting him from the night, and from the dreams that would wake him in the hours until morning.
The last turn onto our street finally came and I lifted him in one last effort. He moaned.
“Come on, Rube,” I said. “We’re gonna make it,” and when I think about it now, I don’t understand how I made it that far. He was my brother. Yes, that was it. He was my brother.
At our gate, I used one of Rube’s feet to free the latch and walked up the porch steps.
“The door,” I said, louder than I’d wanted to, and after putting him down on the porch, I opened the flyscreen, got my key in, and turned back to face him. My brother. My brother Rube, I thought, and my eyes ached.
As I walked back toward him, my arms throbbed, and my spine climbed my back. When I picked him up again, we nearly fell together into the wall.
On the way through the house, I managed to jam one of Rube’s knees into a door frame, and by the time I got us into our room, Sarah was standing there, sleepy-eyed until terror strangled her face.
“What the hell —”
“Quiet,” I said. “Just help me.”
She stripped the blanket off Rube’s bed and I placed him down on it. My arms were on fire as I took his jacket and flanno off, leaving him in his jeans and boots.
He was cut up and badly bruised. A few ribs were swollen and one of his eyes was pitch-black. Even his knuckles were bleeding. He got a few good ones in, I thought, but all of that meant nothing now.
We stood there. Sarah looked from Rube to me, recognizing his blood on the arms of my jacket. She cried.
The light was off now but the hall light was on.
We could feel someone else arrive and I knew it was Mrs. Wolfe. Without even looking, I could picture the hurt expression on her face.
“He’ll be okay,” I managed to say, but she didn’t leave. She came toward us as Rube’s voice fought its way next to me.
His hand came out from under the blanket and held on to mine.
“Thanks,” he said. “Thanks, brother.”
The pale light hit me from the window. My heart howled.
THE EYES HAVE IT
I see myself standing on a city street, where a flood of people crowds toward me. Somehow, I manage to stay still, and I soon realize that all of these people are faceless. A blankness shrouds their eyes and they have no expression at all.
It’s only when I begin to walk, through the gaps, against the flow, that I notice that some of the faces have actually kept their form.
At one point, I see Sarah, finding her own way through, and at another, I see my father, and Mrs. Wolfe, walking together, holding hands.
A long way off, I see Octavia.
I don’t see her face, because she’s going in the same direction as me. I see only her hair, and her neck and shoulders through the crowd.
Of course, like before, my first instinct is to go after her — but immediately, I stop. I stop and look to my right and see my reflection, even though there’s no mirror or glass to speak of. There’s only a concrete wall, but I’m able to see myself.
I see my eyes.
They’re eyes of hunger and desire. They tell me:
Don’t move from here — not yet.
They ask me:
Are you okay, Cameron?
I think about it and take a good look at me. I look at my boyish arms, my dirty fingers, and wanting face. I look at the eyes, and I see the hunger and desire, growing and feeding, determined to make me worthwhile, to be somebody, on my own.
And I nod.
I can move on now, because here, at this moment, no matter how fragile it might be, I can feel okayness growing inside me.
The funny thing is that okayness is not a real word. It’s not in the dictionary.
But it’s in me.
CHAPTER 19
I’ll give it to him.
Rube actually got up the next morning and went to work with Dad and me. He was bruised and still prone to constant bleeding, but he still showed up and worked as hard as he could. I don’t think there are many people who could take a beating like that and get up the next day and work.