Brother's Keeper. Joaquin De Torres

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СКАЧАТЬ took him several minutes to compose himself. He dried his eyes with the face cloth then wrapped it around the barrel of the gun. He deactivated the safety and held the gun in his right hand, and curled his fingers around the towel-wrapped barrel. He raised it up and under his chin. He did this slowly, methodically. There could be no mistake or misfire; the bullet had to go straight through his chin, the roof of his mouth and through his brain on this once and only try. He looked down at Jordan’s face.

      “I promise you, Brother, we will meet again. It may take me an eternity, but if Mom is right that the dead still live spiritually, searching for those they love, then I’ll find you. I’m going to look for you. I promise.” He closed his eyes, took several quick, courage-generating breaths, and began to tug on the trigger when the doorbell rang. He pulled the gun away.

      “What the fuck?” he whispered.His eyes flew open; his finger lifted.

      The bell rang again. He remained still, the gun still under his chin. It rang once more. Then he heard the front door creak open.

      “Hello?” a voice called. He put the gun down quietly on the table and threw the face cloth over it. “Hello?” The voice was low in tone, and getting closer. This was not Mr. Sebastiani whose booming baritone rattled the rafters. This voice was calm, professional. Jason stood up and turned around, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. Around the corner a figure tentatively emerged at the living room doorway.

      “May I help you?” asked Jason coldly. The stranger, dressed in an open blue blazer, white dress shirt, and black slacks smiled cordially.

      “Hello, my name is Scott Rivers. I’m looking for Jason Li.”

      “Jason didn’t mention any visitors. I’m his roommate.” Jason’s eyes remained cool as he gauged the stranger.

      “I’m here on behalf of the U.S. Navy; specifically, the aviation community. I’ve come all the way from Japan to speak with Mr. Li.”

      “Well, you just missed him. He probably won’t want to see you anyway.”

      “Why’s that?”

      “Well, it’s been two years since the Navy ruined his life.” He uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands into his jean pockets, leaning back and feigning mild interest. “What’s he done this time?”

      Rivers considered the man he was talking to, knowing full well who he was. He decided to let the game play out a few moments longer, if anything, to get to know the man.

      “Well, actually, I wanted to talk to him about something we could do for him. May I come in?” Jason nodded indifferently. “Nice place,” Rivers acknowledged as he slowly moved towards the table. He looked at the stacks of boxes. “You guys moving?”

      “Yeah. Rent’s too high in Concord. Movers will be here in a few minutes, so if you want to leave something for him, I’ll make sure he gets it. I really don’t know when he’ll come back. He said he was going to visit some friends, or something.”

      Jason moved to the window, pretending to search outside. This gave Rivers a few seconds to sweep the room as he stood next to the table. With his falcon-like eyes he noticed the counter with the stack of bills and IDs; the boxes all labeled “GOODWILL”; the Southwest Airlines rejection letter; the framed photos of family members; and an object under a face cloth. A portion of that object protruded from one end of the cloth, causing his analytical mind to jolt to an immediate conclusion: I got here just in time!

      “So, what could you do for him?” Rivers turned his head to see the young man looking at him sternly, his head cocked as if issuing a challenge. He glanced back to the object under the face cloth and took the challenge immediately.

      “I know it’s hard, Jason,” he said sympathetically.

      “What!? What did you call me!?” Jason moved threateningly towards the table.

      “Losing your family, your career, your life. I am—”

      “Full of shit is what you are! Who the fuck are you!?” he shot back.

      “Jason, I am here to offer you—”

      “STOP CALLING ME THAT!” he bellowed. “JASON’S NOT HERE!”

      Rivers quickly opened his leather case and took out three 5X7 photos. He laid them down on the table. Jason came to the table and silently regarded the photos of a young man posing in his flight suit. He picked them up and studied them.

      “You remember these scenes? VFA-122 in Lemoore. Commander Jesse Leon Guerrero stated that you were the top aviator in the squadron.” Rivers waited for a response, but Jason only gazed at the photos. He went into his case again and produced two documents and laid them on the table as well. He pointed to them.

      “These are your last two fitness reports from Commander Leon Guerrero stating that you were superior aviator in all respects; a dynamic leader; combat ready; highly recommended for frontline deployment; highly recommended for any advanced aviation special program. Jason, the list goes on. You were the best.”

      I AM NOTHING!!!” Jason yelled and flung the photos across the room. “LOOK AT ME! WHAT HAVE I GOT!?” Tears cascaded down his face as he cried and gasped for air to speak. “I’M NOTHING NOW! NOTHING!!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” He pointed to the documents and the photos around the room. “That all died two years ago! My life ended two years ago!”

      Rivers put down his case and raised his hands calmly. He moved slowly around the table.

      “Jason, please hear me out.” He reached for the young man’s shoulder, but his hand was quickly shoved away. Jason stumbled back, still pumping out tears, and the years of inner grief that he had, until then, bottled up.

      “Stay away from me!” he coughed. “Why are you here!?”

      “Because I want to-”

      “DON’T YOU SEE? I LOST EVERYTHING! I HAVE NO ONE! I LOST JORDAN THREE YEARS AGO, AND THE NAVY THE FOLLOWING YEAR!”

      Rivers felt Jason’s desperation and agony blast him with every sentence. Nothing he previously analyzed about this case could have prepared him for this sudden display of self-immolation. The complexity of the man’s tragedy not only saddened Rivers, but also reminded him of the futility of this mission. He watched pitifully as Jason seemed to transform into a wild, wounded animal-a beast driven to relive his own personal torment. Jason raised his head and pointed at Rivers.

      “Who the fuck are you to come in here and do this to me!?”

      “Jason, you are suffering from massive depression and stress disorder. We can take care of this.”

      “Who? The Navy?” he spat mockingly. “I don’t exactly have on-base privileges anymore! In fact, since I haven’t had a job for 14 fucking months, I haven’t had any medical insurance!”

      “We can take care of that,” Rivers answered calmly, thankful that Jason was no longer yelling but speaking, albeit hotly. As long as he could keep Jason engaged, there might be some other way to bring him across.

      “Yeah right! So, I’m to understand that you came all the way from Japan to help out a shipmate? Why me? And by the way, how the fuck did you find me?”

      “The СКАЧАТЬ