Brothers

French south-west coast, late 1967 to summer 1969, 18 months to 3 years in the forest

Between the cold days during which Sirius and I stayed snuggled up in each other's arms, the afternoons spent playing in the tall grass of the neighbouring fields or in the streams where we had fun fishing, the long days during which I repaired our shelter when Sirius went off to hunt little animals like rabbits, between the laughter, the cold, the heat, the evenings looking at the stars, the freedom and the little injuries, between the evenings spent marauding at the junkyard to steal clothes when the others became too small or too damaged for us, between the days when our hair grew really too much and Sirius cut it a little with his penknife, between all these innocent moments of our childhood, we had never had any outside contact, except for the winter days when Sirius had disappeared, but none of us counted that as such. Ironically, the first humans we came across after all that time were children. Gypsy children, whom we had caught hunting in the forest. And rather than run away, we wanted to follow them. Meeting them had been so striking that their first names had stuck in my memory. Manolo was the tallest, his best friend was called Fraco and his little brother Nanosh, as well as a fourth lad called Miguel. We told ourselves that we could trust them. That evening, our arrival was celebrated and the whole camp was happy. The singing, the dancing, the joy, all this had pleased Sirius, who, as an extrovert who loved the way others looked at him, began to dance harder than the others, to frenzied rhythms we'd never heard before. He danced and danced, in the midst of the others who had somehow formed a semi-circle around him. His long black hair swayed around his shoulders and face as he moved, and at that moment I knew very well that my brother was and always would be the brightest star in the system. I was content to watch him, to observe and absorb everything, sitting on a tweed blanket on the floor. I admired those who were dancing, playing guitar or violin, singing, clapping their hands, admiring the festivities and the happiness. And there was this woman too. Quite a young woman, no more than 21 or 22. She sat next to me, admired her friends and family, laughed and smiled at me. And I, who was terrified of adults, women in particular, because of my mother, had never felt such a gentle aura emanating from an adult, and something deep inside me had been fulfilled by her presence. And slowly, very slowly, timidly, from the height of my eight years, I let myself fall on top of her, my head in her lap. She accepted, didn't flinch or move. She ran her hand through my medium-length hair and continued to admire people. She'd laughed a little when we'd passed Sirius a guitar and, not knowing how to play at the time, he'd pretended to strum the strings with all the poise of an eccentric and admired child.

"Your brother's funny," the woman whispered to me in a murmur, accompanied by a little laugh.

"He's the best" I said in return, my eyes shining and the most sincere smile on my face.

And inside, even though I was smiling, I was a little confused. How can I explain the shock of discovering what a family is? People living together, parents smiling and children laughing. For us, it had all been 10 days of celebration and laughter. We didn't know that we could love children like that, that a family could love each other like that. 

All the evenings that followed were exactly the same. Sirius danced and I admired him. Everyone did. Manolo's grandfather, a kindly smiling old man called Asdrubal, had taken a great liking to my brother, as a grandfather would to his grandson, and had given Sirius his guitar. He also showed him some music and Sirius, having more than one talent in his pocket, proved capable of reproducing one of his tunes to perfection. We would later learn that this little genius had an absolute ear for music, but that without any musical education before and during our long escapade in the forest, he had never paid any attention to it, relying on the false belief that everyone heard things the way he did.  

At the end of the ten days, these gypsies told us that they wanted to move. They wanted to head for Fouras, a small port town about 3 hours away, on foot and on horseback. Naturally, they offered to let us go with them. But Sirius didn't want to. For Siri, our community was him and me. He was right, the next day, when we went back to our life in the hut, we didn't even think about it any more. Not really, anyway. Having met families where the parents loved their children had subconsciously reassured Sirius and me, who were nine and eight at the time. Sirius, who never verbalised his sadness or certain negative emotions, had translated all this into his desire to play the guitar. And so he did. Afterwards, his memory enabled him to repeat exactly the same sound that Asdrubal had taught him, apart from a few mistakes, as Sirius still didn't know his instrument exactly well. But his mistakes were part of his game, and even if it sounded bad sometimes, we liked this new tune that kept us company during our evenings under the stars in front of a campfire. And I always ended up falling asleep on my brother's lap, while he continued to strum the strings of his instrument, falsely indifferent. It was a tune that kept us company as children, and years later, in a cabin in the middle of Abitibi, it would haunt us a little more every time Sirius played it, reminding us of the best days of our lives while we were living some of the worst. 

*****

Abitibi, Canada, early May 2008, 4 months in the forest

In four months, Sirius and I, who lived mainly on fish and hares, had found a semblance of a rhythm. I always got up at the crack of dawn to wash my face, make coffee and have breakfast. Sirius, on the other hand, got up later and ran off to shower, had breakfast with me and went hunting or fishing when he had to. Otherwise we'd keep busy with chess, I'd lose endlessly and after several games we'd stop to read the books Sirius had brought with him and he'd taken far more than I initially thought. When the other person finished a book that we'd finished ourselves, we'd discuss what we liked or didn't like. Sirius preferred books such as Forever Amber by Kathleen Winsor; The Charioteer by Mary Renault; Reunion by Fred Uhlman; The Snow Leopard by Peter Matthiessen and The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky. For my part, my heart went out to: The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky; Reunion by Fred Uhlman; To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee; The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton and The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger. So our days were spent in a daily routine that didn't bother us, and I found myself imagining living here for the rest of my life. Just with Sirius. He and I, as it had always been. Almost, anyway.

One morning, as I was washing my face with hot water to relax my cold-shocked face while Sirius was still asleep in the back room, I saw a figure emerge from the trees and approach the hut. And the further the figure got, the more it raised its head and I could recognise Vic. I dried my face quickly and went to open the door for him.

"Vic! How are you?"

Poor Vic looked completely out of breath.

"Do you want to come in?" I offered, showing him the door that was still ajar.

"Nah nah, I can't stay." he huffed at me." I've got a long way to go. Is it okay? It's not too hard?"

"No, I'm fine," I assured him.

"Is Sirius there?"

"Yes! but he's still asleep..."

I saw Vic's eyes dart a little. He caught his breath and swallowed ostentatiously.

"Listen..." he began. "It's none of my business why you two are here. But I ran into a detective further east in the valley. He was looking for you. He was with a youngster who looked to be just under twenty."

"Did the kid tell you his name?" I asked, closing the door so as not to wake Sirius. "Antares?"

"I dunno."

"What did you tell them?"

"Nothing, Regulus. We all have our little secrets, and then, guys like you, around here we respect you. None of the people who've come across you will say anything. But here it is, I just wanted you to know."

"Well, thanks Vic. Thanks for your discretion."

"Welcome." He paused and looked me straight in the eye. "The kid who was with him was asking a lot of questions. It's like he misses his dad."

Vic let his words hang in the cool morning air, waved at me and then walked back into the forest, never looking back. And as I watched him go, silent, the door behind me opened.

"What did he want Vic?" asked Sirius, in an abrupt, nervous tone.

"He just popped in to say hello," I lied, re-entering the hut. Sirius, still in his pyjamas, took one last look at where Vic had gone and followed me into the cabin, closing the door behind him.

Later that day, in the middle of the afternoon, as I was redoing the black dyes on my chess pieces, Sirius walked past me and put on his red coat. He grabbed the rifle and the ammunition.

"I'm going hunting," he warned me.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"Nah, that's fine Reggie, stay warm."

"See you later," I said as he walked out the door.

"See you later!" he said just before closing the door, a little roughly, which made me tremble, brush full of natural black ink in hand. I painted and painted my game pieces, all the pawns one by one. And when I'd finished with the last piece, the black king, I huffed and puffed as if I'd made a considerable effort. And alone, doing nothing, especially after that morning's discussion, I began to think about London and my life. My partner. My children. Lyra. And Antares. Suddenly, just as I was getting used to living here and contemplating living in this shack forever, I felt ashamed for my children and for Lazar. In four months, I hadn't contacted them since the day after my arrival. So I got up, rushed to my travel bag that I'd thrown under my bed and pulled out my old phone. I grabbed my coat, put it on quickly and before I left, I wrote down a note to Sirius:

I'm off to check the network to see how the kids are doing.

I'll try to be back soon,

Regulus

And off I went into the forest, to the same place as four months ago. But this time, when I got to the highest point on the hill, where there was the most network, my phone wouldn't stop vibrating and ringing, so many notifications. Messages, missed calls, hundreds of them. Messages left on the answering machine too, lots of them. And that's what I started listening to first.

"Hi Dad, I've just landed in Montreal, if you can just give me a sign of life," Antares' voice said.

"You don't really give a shit," Lyra's voice said again, crying.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, Dad," Antares berated me.

"What are you doing Regulus! Where are you, the children are worried!" said Anastasia.

""WE'RE WORRIED DAD!" shouted Antares.

"Just pick up the phone, for fuck's sake!" bellowed Lyra. "We just want to know if you're alive!"

But all those voice notes left by my ex-wife and children did nothing for me compared to the messages from Lazar.

January 14, 08:33: "Hi darling, I'm sorry about yesterday. I wasn't in my right mind. Is everything all right with you? And Sirius? Kisses, I love you."

January 16, 17:08: "There can't be much reception in Canada... Where are you headed? I hope you're well. Kisses Reg, I love you."

January 21, 10:47: "I miss you Reggie... When do you think you'll be back? Kisses, I love you."

February O9, 18:52 : "Hey Reggie... The weather is bad in London, how is it in Canada? Hope you're well, love you."

February 25, 23:58 : "Hi love... How are you? It was my birthday today, I didn't have a very good day. Kisses my love, I love you."

March 18, 13:24: "I'm worried about you. Please tell me you're okay, Reggie. I'm scared, really... Kisses, I love you."

April 15, 00:40: "Sometimes I think your just a huge arshole Reglus Arcturus Black. You think your above everyone else, don't you? Because of you name youve bin taught your superior to everyone else, haven't you? You belive that shit? You gave up your kids and your partner for your secrt fucking brother? You belive that shit?! You son of a biatch. I hope it's cold where you are and your balls are frizing, you spoiled mama's boy. Fuck you. My friends were right, I shouldn't have gone near you, your too wird."

April 15, 03:14: "I'm at the bar, alone. And there this totally hot guy in front of me. Why shouldn't I fuck im, given that my partner has completely abandone me?"

April 16, 07:43: "I'm sorry about yesterday Regulus, I was sad and completely drunk. Sorry about my spelling too. But don't worry, I didn't do anything with the guy, he was homophobic and insulted me in front of the whole bar. I got thrown out. I went home like a chicken. I apologise, I really do. I love you Regulus..."

April 27, 14:49: "I'm really lonely, Reggie..."

May 01, 05:28: "I've been thinking about it Regulus, and I'm fed up with it. You can't run off to the other side of the world for 4 months and not hear from me and expect me to be there when you get back. I'm leaving the flat tomorrow, going back to my mum's. I'm not waiting for you to show up again to remind me that I have a life and that I MUST live it. Goodbye, Regulus."

It took me a while to assimilate all the information. All the messages. But their hatred of me was justified, I was just a lousy father or partner. I just hoped that Lazar would be happier like that, maybe he'd need a partner like him, who has the love of a doggie, all clingy and ready to open his heart on the first date. That would suit him much better. But my rationality didn't allow me to calm my anger and a part of me, which I tried to keep deep in my mind, was angry that they didn't understand anything. That they weren't even trying to understand.

I dug a hole in the snow with my boot and dropped my phone in it. Then I covered it with my foot so that no animal or human would fall on it, at least not immediately. And off I went back to the chalet. And when I finally got there, I said nothing to Sirius about my buried phone and the messages I'd received. He didn't ask any more questions.

Two days later, when I woke up, the bed I shared with Sirius was empty. His side of the bed was strangely cold, frozen even.

"Siri?"

No answer. I tried again.

"Sirius?"

Still no answer and the silence made me get up at the speed of light, rushing into the main room, which was completely empty. My eyes darted around the room and finally I saw it, the rifle. It was there, and so were the cartridges. I breathed a sigh of relief but my fear was biting my stomach with its sharp teeth and I felt sick. I dressed quickly to go out into the cold.

"Sirius!" I shouted from the terrace, cupping my hands to carry the sound even further. But as before, there was no answer. Not a sound or even a movement. So I started running towards the forest, fearing the worst. I kept shouting and as my voice rose, I only managed to scare off the few birds still present.

"SIRIUS!" I shouted. "WHERE ARE YOU?!!! SIRIUS!"

But my brother wasn't there to hear me or answer me. So, like an idiot, I kept on shouting in search of my brother. I walked along the trees but no one could hear me, I walked along the lake where we were fishing but he wasn't there. I went as far as the network point but my brother was not anywhere around. The bright red of his coat and the jet black of his hair were nowhere to be seen. And I wanted to cry and throw up but I kept shouting my brother's name, to no avail. And as the afternoon wore on and the hours passed with me in the snow, memories of the days when Sirius had disappeared came flooding back. The loneliness, the fear, the cold, the panic, the fatigue, the sadness. And against my will, I began to cry for Sirius. I returned to the cabin only to find it empty of my brother's precious presence. And that's when everything fell into place for me and I looked around the cabin. When I say looked, I mean really looked, because at that very moment a strange, overwhelmingly heavy feeling weighed on my heart. And along with my eyes, I noticed. I noticed that none of my brother's books were there any more. I noticed that his travel bag was no longer under the bed. I noticed that none of his clothes were anywhere. His cigarette packets and lighter were gone too. All his stuff was gone. Even the guitar. But that wasn't all that made me feel worse, at least not the worst. What increased my sense of anxiety was the chess set. It was still on the table but, whereas yesterday I had organised all the pieces and put them straight and in their places, today one piece was not as I had put it yesterday. Just one piece.

The black king.

As the elements clicked into place in my head, I rushed to get my bag and stuffed all the necessary things into it. I left the hut and as night fell, I ran back the way I'd come with Vic four months ago, until I reached the car I'd hired. The car was completely covered in snow but with the strength of my arms and all the speed I was capable of, I cleared the snow to find my hire car as good as new. However, it took a while for the engine to warm up and there I was, in the driver's seat, stamping my feet and praying that my car would start up quickly. And when it did, I started immediately and as quickly as possible. I drove all the way back to the petrol station where I'd met Vic. I parked and went straight into the bar. I was in a hurry and I wanted my suspicions to be confirmed.

"Hey! How you doing?" asked the same barmaid as last time.

"Have you seen Vic?" I asked breathlessly, without answering her question.

"Uh, no. I don't see him in the winter," she says, pouting apologetically. "But I've seen your brother!"

"What? When?"

"Well, yeah, he came by at lunchtime and told me he was on his way home."

And then, at her words, my shoulders slumped. Out of spite and sadness. Surprise too. Sirius had left without saying a word to me, but he hadn't bothered to come here before. In a fucking bar. What the fuck was his problem?

"Did he tell you he was going home?" I asked, just to be sure.

"Well yeah, why? Didn't you know?"

I whispered a barely-existent "thank you" and went back out into the car park.  

Sirius, espèce de connard.