by Jim Walke
\n
<\/br>
\nThe pants were the blue of a police strobe.\u00a0 They had cuffs large enough to smuggle an immigrant family into the country, and corduroy rows as deep and straight as Russian veldt farmland.\u00a0 Over their lifetime, they survived extremes of fire and cold, water, even immersion in concrete and Detroit steel without losing that damned perfect, permanent crease.<\/p>\n
Gil\u2019s older brother, Theo, unwrapped them in the same year in which Gil received his toy carpenter\u2019s set (an odd gift for a boy who wanted to be an astronaut) with the hammer too light to pound anything significant and a handsaw too dull for wood but fine for sawing hands, thereby introducing both boys to the delicate art of lying to women \u2014 Mom first, then others as the years went by \u2014 about the origins of unique scars.<\/p>\n
The origin of the pants, however, was lost to history.\u00a0 The brothers speculated about Great Aunt Felma, who would wrap any random object that caught the fancy of her lazy eye, things like red shoelaces and pimp jewelry bought on street corners.\u00a0 She didn\u2019t take credit for the pants, though, and Mom shook her head.<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe they\u2019re from Dad,\u201d Gil said.<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe they\u2019re from Santa,\u201d Mom said.<\/p>\n
\u201cSanta\u2019s not real,\u201d Theo said.<\/p>\n
\u201cMore real than your father, at this point,\u201d Great Aunt Felma said.\u00a0 She took a deep, soulful drag on her Marlboro.\u00a0 On the exhale, her lazy eye seemed to trace the path of the smoke as it curled around the threadbare Christmas tree and up to the popcorn ceiling.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho wants cookies?\u201d asked Mom.<\/p>\n
So, the pants entered their lives as a mystery.\u00a0 Mom insisted that Theo try them on.\u00a0 When he emerged from the bathroom, Gil stared, but Aunt Felma snorted like the cat when it had a hairball.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy word,\u201d was the only comment she could get out after her hacking fit.<\/p>\n
The pants had a rise of about a foot, which would have simply looked odd on a grown man, but on a thirteen year-old it meant that if Theo got the crotch close to where it belonged, the belt loops hit him around the ribcage.\u00a0 Other parts seemed fractionally out of place, as if the trousers had been assembled from a grab bag of fabric pieces rejected from different sizes and styles, even time periods.\u00a0 It was a golem of a garment.\u00a0 The blue reflected shockingly against human skin, the sort of color that governments might paint nuclear waste containers in a misguided effort to reduce panic.\u00a0 The unknown tailor had used thread of a lighter blue, which gave the unfortunate effect of drawing lines across Theo\u2019s body.\u00a0 To Gil, his brother looked like an animal divided into steaks and chops.\u00a0 Theo stood wall-eyed with fear.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh,\u201d Mom said.\u00a0 She sighed.\u00a0 \u201cMore cookies?\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/br>
\nThe pants retired to the bottom drawer until the Growth Spurt the following summer, when Theo\u2019s hormones organized and added four inches to his frame in the same number of months, and tossed in a surly attitude for free.\u00a0 Gil heard the G.S. referenced in spitting discussions in the car that made him cover his ears with his Mickey Mouse sweatshirt. \u00a0The Spurt appeared to strike indiscriminately.\u00a0 Gil examined himself in the mirror for signs of his own mutation.<\/p>\n
The upshot of the Spurt wasn\u2019t fully realized until the night of the Halloween dance.\u00a0 Gil watched from under his bedsheet\/costume as Theo tried on last year\u2019s ToughSkins.\u00a0 Even if he could have gotten the zipper closed, the cuffs, already let out to their limits, hit halfway up his shins.\u00a0 Gil learned three new swear words that night as Theo spat and struggled.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou could wear the blue pants,\u201d Gil offered.<\/p>\n
Theo shot him a look so full of rage that Gil added a pillow from the bed to his costume, making his disguise closer to a linen closet than a ghost.<\/p>\n
\u201cTry them,\u201d his mother urged from where she listened beyond the closed door.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019ll be dark in the gym, right?\u201d Gil added from behind his pillow.<\/p>\n
The possibilities of the dance would have died on the floor, smothered by trousers, if it hadn\u2019t been for a blonde girl in the school\u2019s flag corps, a Norse maiden with great soft breasts barely contained by her band uniform \u2014 shapes so impressive that even ten year-old Gil wondered what they looked like under the bulletproof green polyester.\u00a0 Her name was Wendy, and she\u2019d promised to wait for Theo by the concession stand so they could walk over to the dance together.\u00a0 Wendy the flag-twirler, Wendy of the d\u00e9colletage, managed what nothing had since last Christmas.<\/p>\n
Theo strode off in the pants, the corduroy threshing as rhythmically as a bag of mating zippers.\u00a0 As Mom led Gil to the sidewalk to start the rounds for his last-ever trick-or-treating, he thought he saw tiny arcs of light sprint across the surface of the electric blue, but he forgot it in the excitement of the first Butterfinger of the evening at the Cratchett\u2019s.<\/p>\n
Later, Gil lay in bed watching the closet door for any sign of boogey-men when Theo slogged into their room.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow did it go?\u201d\u00a0 Gil asked.\u00a0 \u201cDid you see them?\u201d\u00a0 Wendy\u2019s impressive chest floated into his mind at inopportune times, like zeppelins hovering overhead, equally capable of dropping bombs or toys.<\/p>\n
Theo sank down onto his twin bed and turned to the wall, flinching when his face touched the pillowcase.\u00a0 He said nothing for a long stretch.\u00a0 Gil had already hefted a stuffed turtle to chuck at his head when Theo spoke.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, these pants are not 100% cotton.\u201d\u00a0 He\u2019d always had a scientific bent.\u00a0 \u201cThey hold a pretty solid static charge,\u201d Theo said.\u00a0 He sounded worn and small.\u00a0 \u201cBy the time I\u2019d walked the six blocks to the football field to meet Wendy, and on to the gym, I think I could have jumpstarted Mr. Cratchett\u2019s Buick.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe gave me a Butterfinger,\u201d Gil said.<\/p>\n
\u201cShut up, twerp,\u201d Theo said, but his insult sounded tired.\u00a0 He rolled over onto his back.<\/p>\n
\u201cI would have been okay, probably, even during the slow dances.\u201d Theo continued.\u00a0 \u201cI couldn\u2019t get that close to Wendy because of the \u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBoobs,\u201d Gil said.<\/p>\n
\u201cChaperones.\u201d\u00a0 Theo shook his head, his hair zwish-zwishing against the pillowcase.\u00a0 \u201cBut she\u2019d been to the orthodontist.\u201d<\/p>\n
That word gave Gil the image of a dinosaur in a white coat.<\/p>\n
\u201cI saw her new braces for a split second,\u201d Theo said, \u201cthen everything went blank and my nose felt like it caught fire.\u00a0 I thought a meteorite had come through the roof.\u00a0 John and Mallory were dancing next to us, and they said the spark was six inches long.\u201d\u00a0 He sighed.\u00a0 \u201cIt melted Wendy\u2019s rubber bands.\u201d<\/p>\n
Gil lay still on his own twin bed, close by in the dark, and listened.<\/p>\n
\u201cI liked her,\u201d Theo said.\u00a0 \u201cI did.\u201d<\/p>\n
The pants went back into the drawer and Theo stayed home most Friday nights, and the tiny burn scar that looked like a parenthesis at the tip of his nose faded, but never disappeared entirely.<\/p>\n
<\/br>
\nGil grew and Theo simmered while the pants hibernated.\u00a0 Theo inflicted pain on his younger brother with a sense of determination and hard work only attainable with a sibling.\u00a0 Gil got in a few licks, usually while Theo slept, but there were times that he learned to be grateful for his brother\u2019s diligence.\u00a0 In seventh grade, when Wes Schultz, who had been held back so many times that his voice had dropped twice, twisted Gil\u2019s arm up between his shoulder blades, Gil discovered that it didn\u2019t hurt as much as when Theo did it.\u00a0 Wes was a torture dilettante, a dabbler, while Theo verged on artistry.\u00a0 As Gil dangled, he took another lesson to heart and reached out his free hand to snag the flap of cartilage between Wes\u2019s nostrils and pinch it between his thumb and index finger.\u00a0 The troll dropped him, and Gil proceeded to kick him carefully in the knee, the breadbasket and, finally, the family jewels before fleeing.\u00a0 Chalk one up for big brother.<\/p>\n
<\/br>
\nTheo got a car to match the pants: a 1978 Plymouth Vol\u00e1re, sporting a four-on-the-floor and carpeting the color of dried blood.\u00a0 Ugly car plus anger equaled tickets, which, in turn, provided the fuel for more anger, with a final sum of many small, varied collisions with other cars, street signs, two trees, an innocent pile of dirt, and one bovine which survived unharmed but cost the Vol\u00e1re a fender.\u00a0 Gil rode with him, during the short periods between license suspensions, and learned to call the strap over the passenger seat \u201cthe Jesus handle.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/br>
\nOn Gil\u2019s fifteenth birthday, Theo packed to leave for college.\u00a0 Gil found a way to be out of the house during Mom\u2019s sure-to-be tearful goodbye.\u00a0 When he returned, a paper grocery sack hunkered dead-center on his bed.\u00a0 After poking it with the butt end of a hockey stick, he looked inside to find his brother\u2019s parting shot.\u00a0 The blue had not faded over the years.<\/p>\n
<\/br>
\nGil\u2019s own high schoolery pre-occupied him \u2014 girls, mostly, without great success but certainly more than his brother, as learning was also accomplished by absorbing what not to do \u2014 but by the time spring rolled around, he\u2019d had an idea for Theo\u2019s birthday.\u00a0 The pants, untouched since Gil had first removed them from the bag, went into the double-layered packing crate that he had lovingly built as his final project in wood shop class.\u00a0 Two hundred screws and a half-gallon of glue held the thing together, the screw heads spaced so closely in places that the metal obscured the pine.\u00a0 The final product weighed close to sixty pounds, and it made a significant dent in Theo\u2019s old mattress.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is a birthday present?\u201d Theo asked the next time he came home.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou made this?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYep,\u201d Gil said.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt wouldn\u2019t, by any chance, have a pair of corduroy pants inside?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHard to tell, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n
Theo sighed, and went looking for a power drill and a crowbar to open his gift.<\/p>\n
<\/br>
\nGil should have expected what came next.\u00a0 On his sixteenth birthday, a roll-off truck dropped a three-foot cube of compacted metal in the driveway.\u00a0 The invoice came with a note written in Theo\u2019s beetling script:<\/p>\n
I<\/em>\u2019<\/em>ve decided to give you my old car.\u00a0 It<\/em>\u2019<\/em>s had a few accidents, but I think you can still get some good use out of it.\u00a0 Oh, by the way, the pants are on the backseat. <\/em><\/p>\n They shouldn\u2019t have made it.\u00a0 The compression of a ton and a half of steel into something the size of a washing machine must warp and tear at its guts, but the pants had flowed with the process and found a tiny space in which to stay whole.\u00a0 Junior year meant metal shop, and Gil earned his A grade in acetylene torch work, peeling a Vol\u00e1re like an onion.<\/p>\n The pants went back to Theo crammed into a hardened steel pipe, three feet long and an inch in diameter, with the endcaps welded in place.<\/p>\n Seventeen came and went with no pants in sight, as Theo was busy flunking out of college.\u00a0 He\u2019d withdrawn to his dorm room and didn\u2019t come out until the campus police evicted him a month into the next semester.<\/p>\n Gil opened a dresser drawer stuffed with the glossy college brochures that arrived daily.\u00a0 Theo\u2019s college, or rather, his former college, lay on top. Gil put it straight into the trash.<\/p>\n <\/br> <\/br> Beneath the surface of the frozen duck pond on Great Aunt Felma\u2019s farm.<\/p>\n <\/br> The brothers stood side by side in front of the coffin where Felma lay looking better than she had in decades.\u00a0 The sarcastic tilt of her head lay set in place by rigor mortis and framed by the tender white satin of the pillow, but the wrinkles had smoothed from her forehead.\u00a0 She looked like a sleeping girl who\u2019d heard her name called.<\/p>\n They were silent, each alone with his thoughts, or waiting for the other to start, or perhaps simply knowing what would be said, if it were said, and skipping over that to the companionable silence afterward.<\/p>\n \u201cIf you wanted to be a total bastard, you could bury the pants with her,\u201d Gil finally said.\u00a0 \u201cShe always liked gallows humor.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSlide them down into the lower half of the casket,\u201d Theo agreed.<\/p>\n \u201cThat would be a terrible thing to do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt would put an end to this.\u201d<\/p>\n Barry Manilow\u2019s \u201cMandy\u201d eased from the hidden speakers and crept among the flowers.\u00a0 Felma had carried a torch for the coiffed singer her entire life, and when given half a chance would spout her long list of plans if she\u2019d ever caught him alone.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you think it was she \u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho gave us the pants?\u201d Theo asked.<\/p>\n Gil nodded.\u00a0 His brother tucked his chin into his chest as he always did when considering a problem.\u00a0 Felma had never admitted to placing the gift under the tree those years ago, but she\u2019d always wanted the details of the latest pants delivery.<\/p>\n Theo\u2019s fianc\u00e9e, Bridget, waited in the stifling, veloured reception room.\u00a0 It took him a moment to realize who she reminded Gil of: the flag-waver from junior high, Wendy.\u00a0 They shared a pair of notable characteristics, of course, but the resemblance was stronger than those.\u00a0 Bridget was attempting a career in dance, a prospect that gravity seemed disinclined to support.\u00a0 Gil feared for the safety of her eventual partners.<\/p>\n \u201cI know we\u2019ve just met,\u201d he said, taking her hand between his two, \u201cbut I feel like I can say this to someone who is engaged to marry my beloved brother.\u201d<\/p>\n Bridget tilted her head and looked up at him from beneath her lashes, a move that Gil found to be effective, despite the fact that it looked like it had been practiced in front of a mirror.\u00a0 He grinned.<\/p>\n \u201cYes?\u201d she said.<\/p>\n \u201cYou can do better,\u201d Gil said.<\/p>\n When Theo pushed him, a wrapped package slid out from under Theo\u2019s jacket to land at their feet.\u00a0 He snatched it up and headed for the casket, but Gil put him in a headlock before he could disturb Felma one final time.<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe she doesn\u2019t want it to end,\u201d Gil said.<\/p>\n He felt his brother relax under his grip, and let him go.<\/p>\n After the funeral, Gil didn\u2019t hear from Theo for six months. Gil\u2019s birthday passed with no pants in sight.\u00a0 They\u2019d always talked to each other in fits and starts, calling three times in the same day or picking up the phone to dial each other at the same moment, but in between the weeks and months stretched out without worry.\u00a0 Each knew the other existed and would call if he needed anything.\u00a0 Gil had the feeling that he could close his eyes and point in Theo\u2019s direction, no matter the time or distance between them, like a bird finding its way home.<\/p>\n When Theo did call, Bridget\u2019s name came up four times in the first conversation.\u00a0 \u201cWe\u201d had leaked in to nestle among the \u201cI,\u201d and a brightness suffused his tone as if his brain had been waxed and polished.\u00a0 On more than one occasion, phrases came out of Theo that sounded like they had originated in someone else, including the words: career, real estate and family.\u00a0 He\u2019d taken a job as an IT director for a cement plant in a town four hours away, abandoning his plans for an internet start-up.\u00a0 Gil focused on the idea that his brother seemed happy and tried to forget the way Bridget had curled one of her fingers against the sensitive center of his palm when he\u2019d taken her hand in his.<\/p>\n <\/br> <\/br> <\/br> She has the pants.\u00a0 And the house.\u00a0 And half of everything else. <\/em><\/p>\n The return address was an apartment in a cheap complex at the edge of town.\u00a0 Gil called Theo\u2019s cell phone.\u00a0 No answer.\u00a0 His second call was to Mom, who picked up on the first ring.\u00a0 Her answers were short and angry: Bridget had had other men, lots of them, since before the wedding.<\/p>\n He gripped the steering wheel hard on the drive to his brother\u2019s old house, trying to keep his speed below double the limit.\u00a0 Bridget opened the door wearing only one of Theo\u2019s old dress shirts.<\/p>\n \u201cI thought you might come by,\u201d she said.\u00a0 She raised one arm overhead and stretched against the doorframe like a cat.\u00a0 The hem of the shirt rode up her smooth thighs.\u00a0 \u201cI assumed you might wait a little longer, though.\u201d<\/p>\n Gil took a deep breath, and followed her into the house.<\/p>\n <\/br> No answer met his knock, so he opened the unlocked front door.\u00a0 The shades were drawn, the lights off, but the stains on the thin carpet still stood out in the gloom.\u00a0 The smell seemed worse inside.<\/p>\n \u201cBro?\u201d<\/p>\n Rustling in the bathroom.\u00a0 Gil knocked on the flimsy door.<\/p>\n \u201cGo away.\u201d<\/p>\n Gil didn\u2019t answer.\u00a0 He looked at the piles of boxes stacked in the tiny living area.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you still there?\u201d Theo asked through the door.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Gil said.\u00a0 \u201cI left.\u00a0 Open the door.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPiss off.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe could argue about it,\u201d Gil said.\u00a0 \u201cYell, bargain, scream, and then I\u2019ll kick it in anyway.\u00a0 Let\u2019s cut out the middle man, and you can keep the security deposit on your lovely new home.\u00a0 I need your help.\u201d<\/p>\n After a moment of silence, Theo answered.\u00a0 \u201cYou need my help?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI can barely breathe,\u201d Gil said, \u201cand I can\u2019t feel my feet.\u201d<\/p>\n The door unlocked with a metallic ping and swung open to reveal Theo with matted hair and three-day beard.<\/p>\n \u201cJesus,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n Gil looked down at his own lower torso, at the violently blue corduroy pants straining around his waist.\u00a0 They had seemed huge twenty years ago, but, like most of his memories of childhood, they\u2019d shrunk.\u00a0 He could feel grains of concrete trapped in the material, the prod of what might be a tiny splinter of glass.<\/p>\n Theo contemplated his brother for a few seconds.<\/p>\n \u201cYou didn\u2019t fuck her, did you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe wanted me to.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know,\u201d Theo said.\u00a0 \u201cShe told me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI tied her to the bed the way she wanted.\u00a0 Nice and tight,\u201d Gil said.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy are you telling me this?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOpened the windows.\u00a0 Took out the screens.\u201d<\/p>\n Theo looked up, seeming smaller than ever, as if he, too, had diminished over the years.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a bad year for mosquitoes and black flies,\u201d Gil continued.<\/p>\n Theo pondered that for a moment.\u00a0 He nodded.\u00a0 \u201cIt is worse than normal.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe I shouldn\u2019t have poured all that honey on her.\u201d<\/p>\n The weak fluorescent bulb lit the bathroom like a cheap horror movie.\u00a0 It limned the scar on Theo\u2019s nose, and cast shadows at the twitching corners of his mouth.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s all this?\u201d<\/p>\n Gil gestured at the items lining the edge of the tub and standing on the toilet: packs of razor blades, booze, rope, pill bottles, a plastic bag.\u00a0 A stainless steel revolver lay in the sink.<\/p>\n \u201cTaking a little survey,\u201d Theo answered quietly.<\/p>\n Gil hefted the gun, wiping soap scum off the grip before fitting it to his hand and looking over the sights at a five dollar bottle of vodka.<\/p>\n \u201cNice collection.\u00a0 I know how hard it is to stop once you get started.\u00a0 Why\u2019d you go with the six inch barrel?\u201d he asked, his voice cracking.\u00a0 \u201cYou feeling like a cowboy, too?\u201d<\/p>\n The weapon suddenly felt too heavy to hold, too solid and real and possible, and his hand trembled as he set it down again.<\/p>\n Theo didn\u2019t say anything.\u00a0 He kept his eyes on the floor.<\/p>\n Gil picked up a prescription and read the label.<\/p>\n \u201cA. Gerry, DVM?\u201d<\/p>\n That got a response.\u00a0 Theo cleared his throat.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s all we had in the house when I left,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n Gil waited for him to finish.<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019re, um, they\u2019re for the cat.\u00a0 Antibiotics.\u201d<\/p>\n Gil placed the bottle gently back on the counter.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, at least you\u2019ll clear up that nasty urinary tract infection before you go.\u201d<\/p>\n He pawed through the mess until he found a pack of razor blades and tore the top off the package.\u00a0 He fished one out and handed it to his brother.<\/p>\n \u201cHere.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t want to.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot that, asshole,\u201d Gil said.\u00a0 \u201cGet me out of these pants.\u00a0 The zipper is fused shut, and I think that if I don\u2019t restore the circulation soon, my toes will begin to drop off.\u201d<\/p>\n Theo leaned forward and reached out toward the blue pants with the razor blade.\u00a0 When he got within a few inches, an arc of intense white-blue light leapt from the pants to the steel, freezing the scene in an electrical snapshot.<\/p>\n \u201cJesus Christ!\u201d<\/p>\n Theo dropped the razor and shook his hand.\u00a0 The spark had burned a pinhole in his thumb.\u00a0 Gil snickered.<\/p>\n \u201cYou knew that was going to happen?\u201d Theo asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI thought it might.\u00a0 Come on, cut me out.\u00a0 These things are making me sterile.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat if they shock me again?\u201d Theo asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI think that was the last bit of juice they had,\u201d Gil said.\u00a0 \u201cBesides… aren\u2019t I worth it?\u201d<\/p>\n He watched as Theo picked up the blade and set to work.\u00a0 The pants were skintight, and he had to carefully slice through the tough material without cutting into the flesh beneath.\u00a0 He traced a line from hip to floor, the corduroy falling away to either side, then did the other leg without so much as scratching Gil.\u00a0 Well, maybe there were a few nicks along the way, but they didn\u2019t hurt.<\/p>\n \u201cNice boxers,\u201d Theo said.<\/p>\n \u201cThanks.\u00a0 You still wearing those cheap hotel briefs?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCheap hotel?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo ballroom.\u201d<\/p>\n That did it.\u00a0 Theo grinned.\u00a0 They both looked at the shapeless mass of fabric at their feet, all that remained of the once-proud pants.<\/p>\n \u201cNow what do we do?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n Gil took the razor from him and dropped it in the trash.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ll figure something out,\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cFirst, let\u2019s get out of this shithole.\u00a0 You can stay with me.\u00a0 We\u2019ll pick up your stuff later.\u201d<\/p>\n The boys headed for the door.<\/p>\n <\/br> My college buddy owed me a favor. <\/em><\/p>\n 7:25 p.m. <\/em>\u2013<\/em> 10 degrees above SSW<\/em><\/p>\n Gil checked the time.\u00a0 He held the card in his hand as he walked into the backyard.\u00a0 The glow of the city fell behind him, and the sky had begun to darken to the south.\u00a0 He stood motionless, watching.\u00a0 Right on time it appeared, tracking overhead.\u00a0 The space station hung in low earth orbit, circling the globe every ninety-six minutes in long arcs as if weaving a blanket from threads of night.\u00a0 Somewhere onboard a scrap of blue corduroy streaked through space. by Jim Walke The pants were the blue of a police strobe.\u00a0 They had cuffs large enough to smuggle an immigrant family into the country, and corduroy rows as deep and straight as Russian veldt farmland.\u00a0 Over their lifetime, they … Continue reading
\nThey arrived in a five-gallon bucket filled with concrete, the pants ensconced in a coffee can in the center, and left buried in the gravel of a fish tank that was home to a pair of piranhas.<\/p>\n
\nInside a rubber ball in the monkey exhibit at the zoo.<\/p>\n
\nGreat Aunt Felma died shortly before Gil\u2019s twenty-first birthday.\u00a0 She\u2019d made it to ninety-seven, outliving all nine of her siblings.<\/p>\n
\nTheo asked Gil to be his best man.\u00a0 The slide toward the wedding accelerated for months.\u00a0 Gil did a lot of polite listening and suffered through a tux fitting, rehearsal dinner, golf outing.\u00a0 The ceremony and reception passed in a daze for Gil: propping up Theo as he wept at the altar, bribing the bartender to fill the flasks he and the other groomsmen had received as gifts, the slither of the married organist\u2019s dress hitting the floor of his hotel room.<\/p>\n
\nThat autumn came and went without any pants, but the year after that they entered the home improvement phase.\u00a0 The pants arrived sealed inside a double-pane window, then were buried under a freshly sodded lawn.\u00a0 Theo\u2019s buddies from college launched a start-up without him, ran it on venture capital for eighteen months, and sold the company for seventy million dollars.\u00a0 Theo forwarded to Gil the message from one buddy who planned to use his share to pay the Russians for a trip to the space station.\u00a0 Gil deleted it before he reached the end.\u00a0 The jobs that had once seemed temporary for them \u2014 stepping stones \u2014 became permanent, with Gil in his cubicle at an aerospace company, designing the smallest parts of the rockets he had hoped to one day ride, and Theo keeping the cement plant\u2019s computers up and running.<\/p>\n
\nThree days after Gil turned twenty-nine, another note arrived.<\/p>\n
\nHe walked stiffly up the steps of Theo\u2019s apartment complex, which smelled vaguely of piss.\u00a0 His crotch was chafed and raw, and he swung his legs in wide, short steps like a gunslinger in a shootout.<\/p>\n
\nLess than a year later, Gil came home late from work to find another suspicious envelope in his mail.\u00a0 Theo had moved out months before, but they still talked every week.\u00a0 The birthday card inside had a cartoon rocket ship on the front, and read, \u201cNow you are SIX.\u201d\u00a0 Theo had added the \u201ctimes 5<\/em>\u201d in his own scrawl.\u00a0 His handwriting had gotten worse in his middle age.<\/p>\n
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<\/br>
\nJIM WALKE<\/strong> is a writer, actor and cubicle monkey in the mountains of Virginia, with a freshly-minted MFA that fully qualifies him to sit in his basement and stare at the wall until things start to happen. In his spare moments he wanders the Appalachian Trail, and spends time lying in his hammock and lying. His work has previously appeared in The Ampersand Review, Confluence and online in Toasted Cheese.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"