mosquito

A little window cracked with age illuminates a young couple. Damien watches, smoke flowing out his mouth, as though it is TV. He chuckles and adjusts his rickety chair. The girl cries at the smashed glass yet still throws another one. He strains his ears.

“Stop throwing things! I’ll figure it out!”

“They don’t understand! They never do!”

Damien explodes with laughter. He is glad that he never got into a relationship. Well, he never had the chance anyway being in prison and all that. Being put behind bars really turns people off: jobs, relationships, friends. No one wants to associate with a criminal. Except mosquitos––mosquitos love to associate with Damien.

Damien rises with an ache in his spine and a pop in his neck. The chair splinters and rocks back into place. Coughing, he stuffs the cigarette into an empty coke bottle. His interest in his next door neighbors dulls.

The door opens with a creak, reminding Damien to fix it. He looks for the tool box in the garage. He tsks at his luck. His brother never was a tools kind of man. Still Damien looks in the drawers, cabinets, and under the sink coming out with nothing but a stack of pictures.

Pictures of happier times––of a life before prison. Damien scoffs at his brother’s sentimentality, ignoring his own. He stares at his mother’s face––a face that he can never look at again. His father took that chance away. He rushes outside.

The fire flickers as it darkens the smiling face of a man. Two boys in front of a woman watch happily––a normal family picture.

The picture crumbles to ash. Damien grabs another.

The crunch of rocks alerts Damien to an incoming car. It’s his brother’s car, a used cool grey 2012 honda CRV. He ignores it.

Damien hears the jingle of keys hitting the counter, the thud of shoes being kicked off, the fridge being pulled open and then closed, and then the creak of the door.

“I thought you were goin’ to the grocery today.”

“I was busy, Rus.” Damien lights the picture. Russel grabs Damien’s wrist, prying the burning picture away.

“What’re you doin’!” He puts out the fire. “I paid for these!”

“Waste of money really.” Damien leaves the pictures and walks inside. Russel catches up.

“You talkin’ ‘bout money when you’re burnin’ mine. When are you goin’ to get a job anyway?” Russel grabs the mail on the counter and throws out the newspaper.

“I’ve told you already. No job wants me.” Damien grabs another cigarette box.

“Smokin’ won’t help,” Russel scoffs. “Can’t you build houses or somethin’? I’ve taken on more, so can you.” They both go outside.

“Whatever.” The lighter flicks. Damien breathes deep.

“You have to work or you’ll have to freeload somewhere else.”

“I’m workin’ on it, capeesh!”

“Good.” Russel flips through the mail. “Huh. We got an invitation. It’s for the neighbors. They’re getting married in a month or somethin’.”

“Saw them fighting earlier. Probably shouldn’t get married.”

He nods his head. “I hear they’re only getting married for the baby.”

“Probably the parents. Real Christ–––” Knocks batter the door. Damien and Russel eye each other. Damien slowly rises. The door opens hauntingly. It’s the neighbors. Well, one of them at least. Russel follows.

“What can I do for you kid?” The man startles at Damien’s words opening and closing his mouth.

“I––well––My fiance and I––Could you take us to the hospital?”

Russel and Damien share a stare once more. Russel steps up.

“Is somethin’ wrong––Don’t answer that. Of course I’ll take you.” Russel treks back inside gathering his shoes and keys. The neighbor and Damien stare a second longer.

“Uh. Are you coming too? You don’t have to.”

“Sure. I’ll come. Why not?”

The neighbor stands another moment and then rushes back to his fiance. Damien grabs his jacket and shoes.

The car revs up. Enough gas is shown to get to the nearest hospital and back. Russel crunches out of the driveway and into another. The neighbors––one hunched, the other terrified––rush into the backseat. The woman is panting––about to pop out an infant.

Russel backs out and speeds through the neighborhood. The car is silent. Tension crowds the car. Damien hates the silence. He looks back.

“How’re y’all doing? Beautiful day we’re havin’.”

The woman glares at him through the pain.

“Shut.” pant. “Up.” pant.

“Well okay then.” Damien smiles right back. “Say, I hear that we are invited to the wedding. That’s fun.”

“You’re uninvited.”

The young man looks scandalized by the words.

“Darling, they’re helping us with the baby. They’re definitely invited.”

“No! They. Are. Not. Invited.” She pants every every word. The man purses his lips, but says nothing. Damien turns back to the front spotting Russel’s glare. The glare was screaming to stay quiet. Damien complies. The car remains silent, except for the gasps of course.

–––

The hospital is loud. Not from talking, but from the vending machine. The hum disturbs, yet tethers Damien’s heavy feet to the ground. He can smell the sickness floating in the halls and the sugar sweet of a honey-bun. White surrounds him as he watches Russel eat it. Damien hears him chewing––the slimy swish of a tongue and the clack of teeth.

“Stop that,” Damien blurts. Russel looks in confusion.

“What?”

Damien backtracks. “Never mind.” The two stay silent again in the thrumming white walls. Damien shudders.

“I need a smoke.”

“You’re addicted.”

“You don’t think I know that already.” Damien moves to the exit sign. A door opens. The neighbor comes out. He is shaking. He is smiling.

“Good news?” Russel asks softly. The boy nods.

“It’s a girl.”

Damien envies Russel’s smile. Damien tries to lift his lips.

“Congrats.”

The neighbor turns to smile at Damien.

“We’re going to have a small ceremony before the wedding happens. We would like it if y’all come.”

“Of course we will come. When is it?”

Damien opens his mouth to protest, but Russel shuts him with a look.

“It will be in three days. I’ll send y’all the details. It was actually supposed to be before the baby, but you can see how that’s a problem.” Russel and the neighbor laugh at that. “Well, y’all can go on ahead. We’ll be stayin’ here for a minute.”

“Are you sure? Damien and I don’t mind stayin’.”

“We’ll be good. Have a good night.”

“You too then.”

–––

Damien melts into the car seat. “Finally,” he sighs. “I thought we would never get out of there.” Russel turns the keys.

“You need to be friendly. That’s why you don’t get jobs. It’s cuz you don’t smile.”

“Rus. We don’t even know their names. I’ve been calling them The Neighbors in my head this whole time.”

Russel lifts an eyebrow.

“Their names are Mary and William Popper.”

Damien swivels his head. “Are you serious? What kind of names are those?”

“Damien. It doesn’t matter. It’s just names.”

“Sure it doesn’t. Are you really going to that before-wedding thing?”

“We ...are going.”

“Last time I checked I am the older brother.” Damien found Russel’s eyes. “You need to back off.” Russel’s eyes close.

“I’ll stop babying you when you get your life together.” He directs his attention to the road.

“You had an even more difficult time when you first got out.”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Russel spits out.

“Sure I don’t––Sure.” Heated silence suffocates the air.

–––

Screaming enters Damien’s ear. The wail never ending.

Eyes snap open. Damien hurls his pillow across the room. A shattering sound follows––glass falls to the floor. “Stop! Make it stop!” His demand does nothing and the screaming hightens. A door shuts and thuds make their way to Damien’s room.

A knock sounds on his door. “Will you stop breakin’ my house.”

Damien sits up. “I’ll stop when they shut up that baby.”

Russel turns the knob. It’s locked. “Come out.” He rattles it more.

“You can’t demand anything from me, Rus.” Damien burns a hole through the door.

Russel’s voice darkens. “Come out. I need your help.” The scream is louder. Damien’s eyes widen. The scream comes from outside his door. He rushes to his door. Rattles the handle before unlocking it. The baby––the baby is in Russel’s arms.

“Russel. Wha––how––why––Why do you have that baby?” His voice shakes. He thought his brother was better––thought that the medicine was working. What is wrong with him.

“She reminded me of my little Mindy––” Damien interrupts.

“You need to bring it back. Give it back to the neighbors. Say that you were––”

“Were what? Taking her for a walk? They wouldn’t buy that. It’s too late––”

“No––no. That might work. She got out the crib and got outside someh––”

“That’s stupid.” Russel shoves the baby into his arms. “Take her.” Damien freezes.

“Why should I?” Damien stutters. “You––You’re the one who took her.”

Russel stares hard. “I can’t go back. You know I can’t. I’ll be eaten alive.”

“And I won’t! I just got back––I haven’t even got––”

“A job. A life.” Russel laughs. “You won’t ever fit here. Prison’s good on you.” Muted yells sound from the neighbor’s house. Russel looks to the blinds and then to Damien. “You better hurry.” He punches Damien. Damien stumbles, holding the babe closer.

“What the––”

“Damien! How could you do this!” Russel shoves his own body into the hallway wall. Cracking sounds throughout the house. “I thought you were better! I thought you were done with this nonsense!” He bangs his head against the window seal. “I’m gonna call the police!” The yells from outside become louder. Damien’s head throbs. He’s stuck. He’s stuck. He’s stuck. His hand itches for a cigarette. Damien runs to the back door. He runs for the thin woods. Stickers and wet dew sting his feet. Silhouettes dance in his vision. He feels as though he is dreaming––feet walking on clouds. Too slow. Too slow. Too slow.

Cries break into his head. His arms are stuck. Damien looks down. The baby is still in his arms. Yells come next. And then sirens. They know where he is. No. He stumbles through the brush.

“You stay here––here.” He lowers the baby gently by the brush. She screams. He runs.

He runs and doesn’t look back.