So Far, So Good       kip williams

"Tell me what you see," Marcus said, hoisting Kenneth up to the lip of the window ledge.

Kenneth's stubby little fingers were wrapped around the edge, barely able to grasp and certainly not strong enough to pull his weight higher, giving the vantage his brother was pushing him to strive for. If anything, he was just leveraging himself against the crumbling white exterior wall as a rock climber does going up the cliff.

He could feel his older brother's shoulders shaking beneath his feet, making the perch he was trusting shudder like a ladder ready to collapse.

"What am I supposed to see?"

"Whatever you're able," Marcus said, before tossing in a personal aside. "Stupid."

"Put me down, cause I can't," Kenneth said. 

He heard a deep sigh in response. He didn't need to see the disgusted snarl contorting his brother's face. It was one of those two or three expressions saved for him alone, shared lavishly when they were out of sight from parents, judges, and any authority whom might appreciate their ruthless contempt.

"Then, why am I going to all this trouble? Huh? You tell me."

"You just want to find out if she's going to the bathroom."

"Oh! You ugly little queer." Marcus said. "You really don't understand anything about competition, do you? Things I have to do to win. Fuck you!"

And Kenneth felt all support beneath his feet disappear, instantly. His finger holds on the board, tenuous at best, served no more purpose than supporting him just long enough for his brother to step safely back. Then, he fell, light through the bathroom window shifting quickly to the black background of the evening sky with streaks replacing the points of starlight. Having his body pressed tightly against the house caused him to collapse in a perfect arc, anchored to the wall on the point of his toes, slamming to the ground like a board, head, shoulders, back, and hips making contact simultaneously. The breath was driven from his lungs and he was unable to draw more.

Three events, in rapid succession.

First, the back gate slamming behind Marcus as he made his escape.

Next, four floodlights on tall metal poles, suddenly bathing the entire backyard like a high school football field in the glare of game night lights.

Finally, creaking of the redwood slats beneath the weight of somebody stepping out of the back door and onto the deck.

It didn't matter. Kenneth knew his brother really did just want to see Deborah McAfee with her panties down, peeing. 

Marcus could say whatever he wanted.