The Other Brother by Brandon Massey Read Free Book Online Page A

believed in rising at dawn every day, even on the weekends. During the summer, she'd let him and his best friend spend all day at Six Flags Over Georgia, an amusement park-at times when she would tell Pops that she planned to keep Gabriel at home to help her with housework. She'd give him a ride to school whenever he missed the bus, and never tell his father. Pops despised tardiness and would have been incensed that Gabriel had missed his ride.
    Pops had spoiled him, too, but in a way he thought was appropriate for a boy: Pops would pay him for working, but the compensation was sometimes out of proportion to the labor Gabriel had actually performed. Ten dollars for taking out the trash. Fifty bucks for cutting the lawn. A hundred for raking the autumn leaves. It was as if the mundane tasks Gabriel performed were an excuse for his father to slip some money into his pocket.
    Pops was similarly generous with Gabriel's sister, and with Mom, especially. "A man is only as successful as his wife looks" was one of Pops's axioms, and he'd made sure that Mom had the best of everything. This morning Mom wore a navy-blue Gucci business suit that complemented her reddishbrown complexion and slender frame, and Ferragamo pumps. Her long, dark hair, streaked with regal strands of gray, was impeccably styled, and her nails were manicured. She wore understated, but very expensive, gold jewelry, and her diamond wedding ring, which Pops had recently upgraded, was a flawless, three-karat rock in a platinum setting.
    The irony was that Mom was the least materialistic person Gabriel knew. She allowed Pops to shower her with fine things because it made him feel good, as if he was doing his duty as a husband, but the reality was that Mom was more concerned with spiritual matters. She was a highly active member of their local Baptist church, teaching a Bible class for teenage girls, singing in the women's choir, and serving in shelters for the homeless. You never caught her without her Bible close at hand, and she quoted scripture so fluently that Gabriel sometimes couldn't be sure which of her spoken words were hers and which ones she'd culled from the Good Book.
    As they drove through downtown, strains of Mahalia Jackson filtered from the stereo. Mom sang along softly. She had a good voice; her singing reminded Gabriel of when he was a child, a time when she would often coax him to sleep with a lullaby.
    They approached the entrance ramp for 1-85/1-75, the downtown connector. Although it was almost ten o'clock in the morning, after rush hour, traffic crawled like a wounded animal.
    "I wonder where this congestion is coming from," Mom said. "After I drop you off, I'm meeting some of the Link sisters for brunch. I don't want to be late."
    His mother was a longtime member of the Links, an international organization of black women that aimed to advance civic, educational, and cultural agendas for their respective communities. Mom had been a grade school teacher when she and Pops had married, but the success of Pops's business had enabled her to leave the classroom so she could focus on raising their children and pursuing outside activities. Her Links chapter was one of her many interests.
    As they inched forward through traffic, Gabriel saw flashing blue and red lights ahead, the telltale signs of a wreck.
    Like ice water, dread spilled over him.
    The victims of the accident were strangers to him, but the sight resurrected the memory of his own glimpse of Death's face.
    Although he didn't want to, he thought of his tingling palms-and of the figure in the mirror. The thoughts flew like bats through his mind, hooked their teeth deep into him. Forgetting about that stuff was impossible. He was deluding himself if he thought he could.
    "Oh, Lord, it's an accident," Mom said. "I hope no one's hurt"
    "Me, too"
    Mom must have picked up on his tension. She touched his arm, worry stamped on her face. "You okay, Gabriel?"
    "I'm okay," he said. But he went on.