The crystal clear night on the twins’ birthday must not have been a blessing, but another cursed day after all. Sure, it had been splendid up to that point, but Marcus’ presence in front of their house only meant trouble to an otherwise beautiful, if not perfect evening.
As everyone got out of Alex’s car, Marcus also emerged from his car. He staggered a little, a little overcome by the half bottle of scotch he drank earlier that night.
Alex approached Marcus as everyone else lingered behind. Even from fifteen feet, the stench of hard liquor peeled off Marcus’ body.
“What are you doing here, Marcus?”
“I just came to wish your sisters a happy birthday. Is that alright with you?”
“You know you’re unwelcome here.”
“Let’s let the girls speak for themselves.”
Marcus swaggered up the lawn towards Portia. She ducked behind Darren. Marcus changed direction, ambling towards Phoebe.
“Happy birthday, Phoebe!” he announced with a short.
“Thanks,” said Phoebe quietly.
“Let me give you a birthday hug.”
Phoebe stood there as Marcus bear hugged her. He then smashed his lips against her face without warning. She turned away and his kiss landed along the back of her cheek. He pressed against her tightly as she shielded herself with her arms.
“That’s enough,” interrupted Darren.
“Oh, come on, little brother, let us be. You know me and Phoebe have a little history, don’t you?”
Phoebe shook her head nervously.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about how Phoebe and I hooked up when I was dating your little girlfriend.”
“Marcus,” interrupted Phoebe, “quit lying.”
“What’s there to deny? You know we did it and we did it for a good, long time.”
“We didn’t do anything.”
“You mean you didn’t come over to my house last spring when Portia was at the community college? You mean you didn’t’ spend three hours squirming beneath me in my bed”
Phoebe squirmed out of Marcus’ arms.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Marcus, it doesn’t matter to me,” interrupted Portia, “what’s past is past.”
“So, the slut speaks for the whore.”
“Shut up, Marcus,” said Darren.
“It’s not like you can make me, little brother. You never could.”
Just then, Mr. and Mrs. Gatteau pulled into the driveway. Everyone turned his or her attention to Mr. Gatteau as he stepped out of his car.
“What are you doing here, Marcus?”
“Nothing, Mr. Gatteau. Just wishing your daughters a happy birthday.”
“Marcus, I think you should leave.”
“Aw, come on, Mr. Gatteau, we go way back.”
“Marcus, I’m telling you now.”
“Mr. Gatteau, I don’t have any beef with you. I don’t even have a beef with your cheating, lying daughters. My real problem is with Darren.”
“I thought this was settled.”
“It’s never settled, Mr. Gatteau. Darren moved out without paying this month's rent.”
"I'm not even living there anymore," said Darren.
"The only reason you weren't on the lease was because of your unpaid bills. I took you in when nobody else would."
"I'm out now and I'm not paying."
"It’s just like you to not pull your weight. You've always been a loser and always will."
Darren bolted at Marcus and tackled him. Marcus wrapped his arm around Darren, but Darren still had him pinned to the ground. Marcus forced Darren off, twisted him around and ended up on top of Darren. He stretched his fingers around Darren's neck and squeezed. Darren wheezed and coughed. Marcus dug his thumbs into Darren's windpipe, pressing it firmly against his spinal cord. Darren's face grew red.
"Marcus! Stop it!" shrieked Portia.
Marcus squeezed tighter as everyone watched. Darren kicked his knees upward, trying to force Marcus off of him. Marcus lifted Darren's neck in his hands and shoved down forcefully, bounding Darren's head on the pavement, one, two, three times.
"Alex! Do something!"
Alex went to his car and opened the door. He fished around under the front seat and stood beside the two boys on the ground. He stretched out his arm and pointed a pistol directly at Marcus' head.
"Get the fuck off him, Marcus."
Marcus twisted about to see the pistol glinting in the dim light. He pushed Darren to the ground as he quickly jumped to his feet.
"You wouldn't," said Marcus, "It's not your style."
Alex took a step toward Marcus. Marcus flinched, bowing his head away from Alex and the gun.
Just then, police cars came down the street, squealing their tires as they pulled around the corner. They stopped a few houses away. Police officers got out of their cars and stood behind them, their guns drawn.
“Put down your weapon!” came the announcement over the speakers.
Marcus smirked at Alex. Alex glared at him.
“You know you’re just a fuckin’ punk, right?”
“I ain’t scared of you, Alex.”
“Son! Please put the gun down on the ground and step away.”
The pistol was hot and covered in sweat from Alex’s hand. He adjusted the pistol in his hand to get a tighter grip. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.
A police truck now arrived, pulling in behind the three squad cars sitting in a line in the middle of the street. The last of the inhabitants emerged from their houses up and down the street, spectators to the drama in front of the Gatteau house. Some were fully dressed, but most were in their Sunday night clothes: sweat pants or pajamas or even bath robes. The flashing blue and red lights streaked across their blank faces as they watched intently.
“Son! This is your last warning! I need you to put the gun down right away.”
“Alex,” interrupted Mr. Gatteau, “put the gun down.”
Alex did not even acknowledge his father. As far as he was concerned, it was just the two of them on the front lawn. Marcus always disgusted Alex. Alex never understood why Portia ever liked him. He was an arrogant, egotistical, self-absorbed punk, who Alex thought would never amount to anything in Portia’s life, other than heartache and loneliness. In the end, Alex was right. Marcus treated Portia badly from day one, but it took her this long to see him for what he was: a punk.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!
Pistol shots echoed in the cool night air as the police officer closest to Alex pulled on the trigger. Three bullets sliced through the air. The first shot hit Alex directly in the pelvis. The second shot grazed Alex’s hip. The third shot lodged into the side door panel of Alex’s car.
Alex collapsed backwards and fell to the ground. His left elbow collided with the hard blacktop and the pistol popped out of his hand. Within seconds, the police blitzed the area, encircling Alex.
“Get on the ground! Get on the ground!” they commanded Marcus. Marcus dropped to his knees and then placed his hands in front of him on the ground. A police officer came up and swiped a foot at Marcus’ arm. Marcus collapsed to the ground and another officer placed a knee directly into his back.
Another officer kicked the pistol towards the street as a group of officers surrounded Alex. Alex lay on his back, his face facing the inky black sky. The police officers encircled him. One looked directly into Alex’s eyes. Alex stared at him for a moment. A warm wave washed over Alex’s body as he lay on the driveway. He could still sense the coldness of the pavement as the officers grabbed his arms. Before he could do anything else, his body grew suddenly cold. It would be the last thing he would remember.
“Oh, God, please no!” shriekd Portia.
Darren tried to catch her as she turned and dropped to her knees. She hunkered over into a ball, sobbing uncontrollably. Her body heaved as Darren kneeled next to her and offered what little comfort her could.
Phoebe stood silently beside them, staring at her brother, Marcus, and the policemen. The bright lights of the cars and all the noise reminded her suddenly of being in the front row at the circus, when she was a child. Lions and alligators were only twenty feet away from her. It was not real, she kept telling herself back then. Certainly, this, too, must be a bad dream.
An ambulance arrived moments later. Paramedics moved Alex’s limp body to a backing board. Then, they placed him on the gurney and carted him into the back of the ambulance. Meanwhile, Marcus sat in the back of a patrol car, his hands cuffed behind him as he leaned forward, hidden from everyone’s view.
Police cars turned off their lights and backed down the street before turning down the side streets and driving away. One by one, the crowds dissipated, leaving only two cruisers parked in front of the Gatteau house. Officers took statements before releasing the Gatteaus.
As soon as they were free and clear from the police, Mr. Gatteau immediately called Allegheny General. Alex Gatteau had been admitted into the E.R. over an hour earlier.
“Everyone sit down,” said Mr. Gatteau.
They lined up on the couch, both Phoebe and Darren had their arms wrapped around Portia.
“Alex was pronounced D.O.A.”
Portia’s eyes were puffy and swollen. She had sobbed constantly from the moment Alex’s body hit the ground. She already knew he was gone. There really wasn’t any question about that. She dragged her feet over the edge of the couch and pressed her legs tightly against her chest.
The family sat silently in the front room for some while. Mr. Gatteau took the phone remote to the back porch whenever it rang, answering people’s questions.
“News sure travels fast,” he said to an ex-coworker who called.
“We don’t know yet, but I’ll give you a call when we decide what we’re going to do.”
“Thanks. You take care, too.”
It was not until after 2 a.m. when the phone stopped ringing and Mr. Gatteau felt safe to bring it inside. It rang again around 3:30 a.m., waking everyone who managed to get to sleep. Mr. Gatteau answered it and then answered the same old questions before going to each phone outlet and disconnecting them from the wall before returning to bed.
Even though there were five warm bodies inside it, the house felt empty, cold, and dark.
.
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