Naja Aidt - Rock, Paper, Scissors

Thomas texts Patricia: “Was Luke the one who raped you?” Patricia responds: “What are you talking about?? Are you drunk?!” He doesn’t reply. He sits on a stepladder, his head in his hands. He chugs water from the bathroom tap. In the back room he glances out at the courtyard. A silver willow glows ghostly white next to the clotheslines. The pleasure he’d felt at figuring everything out slowly leaks from him. What remains is a cold loneliness. He can’t tell anyone about this. Here he sits in his newly occupied property, which he has haggled, stolen for himself, purchased under-the-table, and if he confronts Luke himself? Thomas closes his eyes. The silence is dense, quivering. If he confronts Luke himself? He can’t handle the thought. He touches his sore knee, rubs it through the fabric of his pants. A cold, cold loneliness. Cold as death. “ He sets his pack on us he grants us a grave in the air .” Luke set his pack on us, played his sick game. Set his pack on the entire family. But especially Thomas. He yanked him around the menagerie, made a mockery of him, probably amusing himself, observed Thomas at a distance and amused himself. Thomas glides down the wall into a seated position, and leans his head against the window. He thinks: Maybe I can beat him to it . His telephone rings.

“Sorry I’m calling so late,” Luke says with his deep, calm voice. “But there’s something I want to talk to you about. Can we meet?” Pause. “Are you there, Thomas?”

“Yes.”

“Are you at home?”

Thomas doesn’t respond.

“You’re at the store, right?”

“How do you know that?”

“I walked past a little while ago and saw the lights. I’ll be right over. Two minutes.”

Thomas can’t move. Two minutes. He can’t even run away. Terrible panic. He’s going to kill me . Not until Luke’s fumbling at the door does he clamber to his feet. For a moment he considers ignoring him, but then he’d just smash the door down, just as he smashed the door during the break-in; there’s no way around it, and in the middle of his tense fright, the flicker of hatred, there’s also a sense of relief — a kind of release, for now everything will come to a head: not just his relationship to Patricia, but also the uncertainty, the fear, and the relentless guilt. Maybe he will cease to exist, and even that seems like a welcome freedom. But a moment later the thought’s replaced with a very real dread of death. Luke raps on the door again. Thomas reluctantly lets him in. Luke shakes his bangs from his eyes. “Hi,” he says. “I brought a six pack.” He edges past Thomas and stops in the center of the store. “These floors have really turned out great. How many coats did you say it was?”

“Five.” Thomas stands behind him, ready to defend himself if Luke should turn and charge him. Luke’s fast as a snake. But Luke doesn’t turn, he continues into the back room. “Isn’t there a chair in here? Bring the stepladder with you. I’ll sit on that.” Thomas arranges the stepladder on the floor beside the window and drops into the chair. Luke removes two beers from a bag and pops the caps with his lighter. “Want a smoke?” he asks. They sit with their beers and their cigarettes. A short silence. Thomas’s heart thumps so hard in his chest that he’s certain Luke can see it. The painter’s lamp floods the room with bright white light. They regard each other. Hard shadows slant across Luke’s face. “I have something I want to tell you,” Luke says. “I’ve actually wanted to tell you this for a long time, since right after Jacques’s was buried, but of course I didn’t know you back then. .”

“Before you say shit about anything, there’s something we need to discuss,” Thomas says, his voice low. It’s as if there’s no oxygen in him. He inhales sharply through his nose.

“I think it’s best that I start.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s serious.”

“Not as serious as this.”

“I’m not sure about that.” Luke sips his beer. “Let’s settle it then. Rock, paper, scissors?” He extends his hand.

“What are we playing for?”

“Who gets to talk first, of course!” Luke smiles. “Two out of three?” Thomas looks directly at Luke, who appears to be calm still, but also nervous. His eyes wander. Thomas raises his hand, and the tips of Luke’s fingers briefly graze his. They play. Luke wins the first round with scissors. Thomas wins the second with rock. And in the third and decisive round, Luke wins again, covering Thomas’s stone with his paper, grasping it and squeezing and chuckling. “You’re too drunk! Winning is impossible when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.” Thomas pulls his hand back.

Luke’s laughter subsides. Again the intense, pulsing silence. Thomas recalls the sensation he felt when the enormous body seized him in the basement the night Jules and Tina visited. A huge zombie body, and it feels as though he can hear its heavy breathing nearby, ready to snatch him and crush him in its embrace. He can almost hear the resounding voice shouting at him: Who’s there? “Well,” Luke says. “This is a little hard for me to say. But. .”

Here it comes, Thomas thinks. He’s going to confess, and then he’s going to jump me. He crouches forward, ready to defend himself.

Luke glances at the floor. “I figured you wouldn’t believe me if I just told you. So I’ve brought some. . hmm. . some evidence with me.” He pulls a crumpled-up slip of paper from the breast pocket of his short-sleeved shirt.

“ Evidence ?” Thomas doesn’t understand. “What?”

“Just look at it,” Luke says softly, thrusting the document at him. He cocks his head. Thomas is handed a sheet of thick, yellowed paper. He unfolds it. It’s obvious what it is: a birth certificate. Issued almost twenty-three years earlier. Luc Dupont . Born the eighth of November. Mother: Rose Dupont . Father: Jacques O’Mally . Thomas rereads the last part. Rereads it again. Father: Jacques O’Mally . So he was right after all when he thought Luke was his brother. He looks at him, indifferent. “What am I supposed to make of this?”

“That. That. . because,” Luke says, eyeing Thomas. As though sucking him in with his velvety-smooth eyes, his face both disarmed and vulnerable. “Because Jacques is my father. We’re brothers, Thomas.” A shy little smile spreads across his face. “I’m your brother.”

Thomas stares at him. “So what?”

“And Jenny’s my sister. It’s been so hard for me to say this and. .”

Thomas glowers at Luke. Luke nods. “I couldn’t say it. But tonight. .” Thomas thinks: Yet another way to manipulate me. Yet another sick maneuver in his game. Thomas stands abruptly, filled with a sudden, mad rage. “Stop!” he roars, startling Luke. “STOP FEEDING ME ALL YOUR BULLSHIT!” Quick as lightning, he grabs Luke and yanks him up, pulling him close. “Haven’t you done enough already? Huh? Who do you think you are? Haven’t you done enough?” He gives him a jerk. “So you want a little brotherly love to prance around with? Do you think I’m stupid, Luke?” Luke stares at him, frightened. “I saw you tonight with that little pusher-chick,” Thomas snarls. “I saw her handing you money, you miserable shit. I’m very aware of what you’ve got going on.” He shakes Luke hard, then shoves him away. Luke stumbles backward. “So that’s how you earn your ‘big money,’ huh? I knew there was something wrong with you. You’re nothing but a dumb fucking loser, just like your mother. And your ‘father.’ Ha!” Again he shoves Luke, forcing him back.

“You don’t understand,” Luke whispers.

“I sure as fuck understand!” Thomas hisses. “Stay away from my family, you psychopath!”