John’s indignation, familiar as it was from the years of their childhood, was not the comfort he wished it could have been. All it did was set Evander’s teeth more on edge, just as the whole funeral service had done, just as the missing button had done, until he almost felt he was buzzing out of his body in rage about it.
“Someone has to do it,” Evander retorted at his brother’s shoulder, still needling as he stumbled after him down the grassy incline, because clearly no one else in their family ever bothered to worry about anything, and like hell had Johnny probably understood the glaring message of their father’s downfall for what it was.
One small slip up, one miniscule mess, couldn’t anyone see? One tiny thing out of place, and it all fell to ruin in a heartbeat.
“You’re not going to fix it?” Evander blurted out next, not sure whether the bile rising up his throat was a surge of frustration or of blind panic. Nor could he explain why his reaction to one moment could be so viscerally felt when he had been so stoic all morning, hadn’t even shed a tear yet over their father. It crossed his mind, the thought what is wrong with me, but even the idea that something was abnormal in his brain was only making him more feverish. Another bitter thought: how on earth could Johnny possibly be handling this so well?
“Someone has to do it,” Evander retorted at his brother’s shoulder, still needling as he stumbled after him down the grassy incline, because clearly no one else in their family ever bothered to worry about anything, and like hell had Johnny probably understood the glaring message of their father’s downfall for what it was.
One small slip up, one miniscule mess, couldn’t anyone see? One tiny thing out of place, and it all fell to ruin in a heartbeat.
“You’re not going to fix it?” Evander blurted out next, not sure whether the bile rising up his throat was a surge of frustration or of blind panic. Nor could he explain why his reaction to one moment could be so viscerally felt when he had been so stoic all morning, hadn’t even shed a tear yet over their father. It crossed his mind, the thought what is wrong with me, but even the idea that something was abnormal in his brain was only making him more feverish. Another bitter thought: how on earth could Johnny possibly be handling this so well?
