Brothers

Canada, early January 2008

The next morning, after waking up, I set about fulfilling the promise of the previous evening, and with the wood that would have been used to build the campfire, I began to carve chess pieces with my penknife. Sirius came into the cottage, freezing, and putting down his coat, he asked me:

"Did you sleep well?"

"It's been ages since I slept like this."

He smiled and tousled my curls as he reached for a mug to pour himself a coffee.

"You're lucky. I don't think I could ever get used to the sounds of this forest at night, they're far too different from the ones we used to hear in the Charente."

He poured himself a cup of coffee (which he sugared a LOT) and sat down on the old red armchair opposite me, freeing his hair at the same time, which had been tied up in a quick bun. He grabbed a book and opened it. A Confederacy of Dunces by John K. Toole.

"Did you bring your books instead of food?" I interrupted his reading, my tone as sharp as the blade of my penknife that had just slammed into the table, peeling the bark off a piece of wood.

My brother was looking at the cover.

"It's not as if I hadn't already read them already. But then... they're Remus's presents from high school. You know... you and Remus could get on really well. He loves books and is rather sceptical about my sense of humour. I think you're the same, aren't you little brother?"

I looked at him and huffed in annoyance. I stood up suddenly, putting my penknife on the table. I grabbed my coat and my phone.

"I'm going to go and check the network. To tell the kids not to worry."

I took a sip of my coffee, wiped the foam off my moustache and finished it in one gulp.

"Tell them you'll be back soon," replied Sirius, in the middle of his reading.

"I'll tell them you're fine then," I said in a nasty, cynical tone. "And that they'll soon be able to meet their dear uncle, and godfather for Antares."

He took his eyes off the page and looked at me.

"You do as you feel."

He took the words out of my mouth and I couldn't think of anything to say. I was about to leave the room when my gaze fell on the rifle and the ammunition. Some of them were out of their boxes. My gaze must have lingered too long because Sirius was already going on.

"You can leave me alone, don't worry."

I looked at him worried but I could see from his eyes, from his determination, that he wouldn't do anything. He'd wait for me wisely, alive, sitting alone in this cottage reading old books that his boyfriend had given him at school, and even though I'd never met Remus, I thanked him for having such a place in my brother's life. I walked through the door from the warmth of the cottage to the biting cold of the outside as my brother plunged back into his reading. I thought it was funny that it was this book, because I loved it so much too. Maybe he was right, maybe I would get on well with Remus.

"See you later," I breathed over my shoulder before closing the door and heading off into the snow in search of a network.

I'd ended up walking for at least an hour to get to the highest and nearest point. With my phone raised in the air, making my way through the trees, I wondered how far I'd be prepared to go for my brother, me who hated looking stupid or ridiculous. Jesus. It's a good thing ridicule doesn't kill you.

I walked and walked and finally, my phone vibrated in my hand, receiving messages and I knew I'd found the Holy Grail, the Internet. Immediately, I dialled Lazar's number.

"Hello?" came the visibly frustrated and slightly angry voice of my partner.

"It's me", I replied in a gentle tone to ease his frustration with me. I wasn't in the habit of doing that, but I didn't want to have a complicated situation with Lazar on top of the one with Sirius. But I could see that he wasn't answering me. "Lazar? Lazar!" I could hear the sound of several people behind me and I remembered that it was the day of Lyra's 20th birthday party. "How are you?"

"Like a man abandoned by his partner at the reception for his daughter from a previous marriage and alone in the middle of his partner's ex-in-laws with his ex-wife furious that someone important was missing," he said in a harsh, petty tone, but even though I deserved it, Lazar suddenly irritated me. But I kept my composure.

"Listen, I need a bit of time to get him back. Only I can do that."

"It's horrible, Regulus. It's horrible because you're putting me in an untenable position. I know your relationship with your brother is complicated and your brother's state of mind must be complicated too. I've spoken to Anastasia about it. Who at least knew your brother's first name, his profession and what he looks like. But even she, even though you've been married for fifteen years, doesn't know him personally! She's never met him!" he whispered angrily, his tone low so as not to draw too much attention to himself. "I can't stand all your secrets, all your things left unsaid. I can't stand feeling that you could leave at any time. I'm afraid I won't make it this time."

I had nothing more to say. Lazar and I loved each other, I think, but we were too much different. That had caused problems in the past.

"Can you put Lyra on, please?" I asked, politely, changing the subject.

"I don't want to spoil her party. I'd like to keep her out of it, and Anastasia has agreed to that. At least today."

Jesus. Lazar had a knack for making stupid decisions. In the background I heard a faint "Is it Dad?".

"But your son wants to talk to you."

Lazar passed his phone to Antares and left him alone.

"Hello Dad, how are you?"

"How are you, son?"

"You've got to come home," he whispered, as if about to cry, his voice hoarse. "Please, you've got to come home. Both of you."

"Trust me, okay Antares?" but he didn't answer me. I don't think he was capable of trusting me. I huffed. "Will you wish your sister a happy birthday, please? And tell her that... that I love you." Still no answer. "You'll tell her, won't you?"

"Yeah... I promise."

"Love, Antares."

"Dad? You're coming home, right?"

"I promise."

"I don't think I can manage without you. And Lyra sulks, but she loves you too. And the same goes for Lazar. We love you, Dad, even if you hide things from us. But it's complicated."

"I know, Antares, I know. And I'm doing my best. But I promise you I'm going to do more. For you, for Lyra, for Lazar, for your mother. For Sirius too."

And he accepted my answer.

"Goodbye Dad."

"Goodbye Antares," I whispered before he hung up.

Alone, in the snow, surrounded by trees and nothing, I caught my breath. And when no one could hear me, least of all Sirius, I began to shout at the top of my lungs in all my rage and frustration.

"FAIS CHIER !!!!!!!"

In the afternoon, when we had finished the meagre rations that Sirius had deigned to take with him on what he hoped would be his last journey, we set off hunting, taking the rifle with us. We went down some paths and up others. Sirius, who had the gun slung over his shoulder, walked ahead of me, on the lookout. It reminded me of the way we'd always done it, Sirius out in front, armed, me further back, watching his back and learning. I could almost see us again, near Châtelaillon, in the forest, the green trees in the summer, when hunting was easiest and most pleasant. The time when we didn't care who we were or what we looked like, the time when my hair was as long as Sirius'. The time when we no longer cared about our cursed name, but only about the stars that guided and protected us. Our stars. Those were the best years of our lives. But those days were gone. It was now thirty-six years later. We were old, shadows of ourselves, running away from our lives and walling ourselves up in the silence of our secret, our life. Of ourselves. We'd replaced Châtelaillon with Abitibi, our rags with huge coats and boots, our handmade slingshots with a rifle, our freedom with silence, France with Canada, our joy with our misery.

And while I was ruminating, I bumped into Sirius, who had stopped, his right arm outstretched at his side, to give me a visible signal that I hadn't noticed. Straight ahead of us was a stag. It was a long way off, but with the rifle Sirius could reach it. He moved a little closer, took the rifle from his shoulder, loaded it and yoked the deer. He put his eye to the sights to make sure he didn't miss, but I knew he wouldn't do that. I waited, but I could see from the look on his face that he was wavering. His hands were shaking and his eye was turning away from me. After several minutes, he lowered his weapon, folded his arms and turned back to me.

"We'll probably find some hares on the way back. But I can't kill that deer, for Prongs. Sorry Reggie."

He turned and walked back. The deer, on the other hand, probably hearing us, fled at full speed in the opposite direction.

On the way back, we did indeed find some hares, which I caught myself, Sirius looking a bit woozy. I didn't ask him what Prongs was, which he had named earlier. 

After eating one of the hares I'd caught earlier, and to lighten the intense atmosphere, I suggested to Sirius that we play my chess game, which wasn't completely finished yet. The missing pieces had been swapped for pieces of wood with their roles and colours written on a piece of paper stuck in a slot at the top. Dressed in thick fleeces and several T-shirts, we were warm all around the table. As we placed the different pieces, Sirius started to talk.

"You're nearly finished it."

"There's still a few missing," and that was an understatement on my part.

"You could almost leave it like this..."

"That would be pitiful," I huffed in spite.

"Go on," said my brother. "Get started."

We moved our pawns strategically, trying out different methods and openings.

"Did you teach your children?" asked Sirius.

I nodded. "Antares was in the chess club at school. He's pretty good. I'd even say he's become unbeatable. Lyra wasn't really interested, but I taught her other things."

"Unbeatable when you've been his master?" he jabbed at me.

I grinned at him. "I learned all my openings and tactics from the best."

He laughed. We continued to play, in an almost religious silence, eating and poking at each other's pawns, but something was bothering me and Sirius sensed it.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Reggie, what's wrong?" he asked again, his tone forcing my answer. Only my brother had such an effect on me. Or maybe I just really wanted to get it off my chest.

"It's just... I can't help thinking that if you'd had kids, you wouldn't be in this bloody mess."

"What do you know about that? If you're talking about my health, it's not your fault."

"But-"

"Shut up, Reggie, and play."

He stared at me, imposing his words on me, then took a cigarette, lit it, inhaled and puffed. The same mechanics, again and again. So I started playing again. And I'd take one of his pawns, and he'd play and I'd take another. I felt I was winning. And before I could think of them, my words came out of my mouth:

"If I win, will you tell me what happened to you the winter you disappeared?"

And that sent a cold chill through the cottage, but in a way I didn't care. In a way, I wanted to have it out with my brother. I was angry with him for keeping such a secret from me. A secret that weighed so heavily on him, that had been poisoning him for years. We had our own lives, and we knew almost nothing about each other, apart from bits and pieces. But this secret he was keeping from me was right in the middle of OUR secret, right in the middle, like the nose on your face. And that bothered us both. But Sirius, in his great mercy, didn't want to tell me anything so as not to poison me too, with him. I wanted to shout at him, spit at him, hit him and show him the truth. The reality where I accepted all his sadness, all his misfortune and all his remorse. That reality where I supported him. This reality where I had abandoned my life in London to join him in a fucking forest in the middle of Abitibi, Quebec, Canada, on another fucking continent. Because in that reality, I was prepared to throw away whole chunks of my life and push away people I loved for a sarcastic brother I hadn't seen in years. There it was, the reality he didn't want to see.

"Chiche" he replied, and the die was cast. I'll make you talk Sirius. Ad nauseam.  

"Chiche" I replied in return, sarcastic and cynical, moving my pawn. "Check."

Sirius took a drag from his cigarette and concentrated, his posture changing. However, he managed to cleverly move a pawn and get out of his chess position. And so it went for the whole game. I cornered Sirius, his black king at last, but, stubborn and motivated by the desire to keep his secret, he struggled like mad to get out of these situations and succeeded every time. I kept repeating " Check " over and over again, but Sirius kept me quiet by showing me how good a player he was. And finally, at one point, Sirius took a puff on his cigarette that was even longer than normal, looked at me and puffed.

"Checkmate Regulus."

But he didn't even seem happy about that, and neither was I. He got up, stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and went off to bed without a word or a glance. Not having the heart to share the bed tonight, and not necessarily wanting to sleep, I sat down on the red armchair, in the dark, while Sirius turned out the light. And eventually, after tidying up a few things and sitting down, I too fell asleep, in silence.

At one point I was woken by the sound of furtive footsteps on the floorboards. Sirius had got up and was making his way into the kitchen, in a silence so heavy that I realised it was still dark. I heard him put on his boots slowly, then his coat, the fabric rustling as he moved even as he tried to be quiet. He put on a beanie and took his time before going out. I heard him walking through the kitchen again, then he came out after what seemed like an eternity but was surely a short time of about two minutes. I heard his footsteps on the terrace and opened my eyes. As my eyes gradually tried to adjust to the dark, I quickly noticed the objects Sirius had taken outside with him.

1) The ashtray (and probably his packet of cigarettes and lighter)

2) The rifle ammunition

3) The rifle

And as my blood ran cold and I couldn't get up, I grabbed a cigarette that Sirius must have dropped at my feet without noticing, I grabbed a packet of matches stuck between the books and my glass of rum that I'd finished before falling asleep. I lit the cigarette and stuck it between my lips. And although I'd given up smoking years ago, the stress and darkness emanating from the aura of my brother, my beloved brother, I was falling back into habits that were killing me little by little, while my brother seemed to be bursting into flames beside me, threatening to engulf me in his torment. But I didn't get up. I waited. And the cigarette passed. I crushed it in my empty glass on the upturned crate and the cottage door opened, my brother standing on the threshold. He threw the rifle on the table, the box of ammunition emptied of the bullets that had been replaced by bits of carved wood fell to the floor. Sirius came towards me, his fists clenched, and as he fell to his knees in front of me, he grabbed the collar of my jumper and started to cry. My brother started crying even though I'd never seen him cry in my life. We'd both been brought up in a house where the boys, the heirs, didn't cry. But seeing my brother like that, crying into my shoulder, his whole body shaking, made my eyes mist over and my vision blur. And in my brother's arms, while he was in mine, I started to cry too, in a way I'd never done before. Not when our parents had beaten us, not when we'd thought Sirius had killed a man, not when we'd lived in the forest for years, not when we'd been taken back to our parents, not when we'd been separated without any indication of where the other was, not when Sirius had ignored all the letters I'd sent him when I'd finally learned the name of his school, not when I'd never received any letters from Sirius even though my mother had assured me that he knew the address of my school, not when I'd returned home alone after graduating, not when I'd got married and Sirius wasn't there, not when Lyra was born, not when Antares was born, not when I got divorced, not when I argued with Lazar for hours and days, not when I gave up my whole life for a brother I hadn't seen in 30 years. Not when I was a child. I'd cried when I was a grown man, when I was 47, and when my 48-year-old older brother had just tried to kill himself but had only found the sticks I'd had to leave as decoys. And as I burst into tears, as my body shook with the sadness I'd been accumulating for years, stuck in an embrace with my brother, the second face of the coin that I was, who was in exactly the same state as I was, I had the impression that it was all my fault. Because when I remembered my childhood, I always tried to prevent a certain thought from rising to the surface so that I could dwell on it again. But this time, I didn't have the strength to beat it. So there it was. This strange, weird feeling that came over me.

Strangely enough, in my memories of that time spent in the forest alongside my brother, I couldn't remember being hungry. The cold, yes, but not hunger. And for good reason. I understood much later just how much Sirius deprived himself on a daily basis. He paid for it. Very heavily. He had so many health problems in his youth, clearly identified later by a doctor as linked to serious nutritional deficiencies during childhood.

And explained his sterility.