The Fine Line

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction (as in it doesn't exist in the real world) and any and all similarities to real stuff is an accident and coincidental. I own all the rights, so if you want to copy something you'd better ask me first or I'll kick your ass....


A/N:I'm back!!!And now, on with our regularly scheduled programming!

(Aaron)
“And now, if anyone would like to say a few words.” The preacher had said traditionally, gesturing to the podium, but I was on my feet again the minute he’d finished the service. I’d promised Mrs. Mitchell before she died that I would make sure her son knew how much she loved him, but since I saw that there was absolutely no way he would let me within private speaking distance, I guess I had to do it a bit more publicly. It probably wasn’t going to be pretty.
“Please god,” I prayed silently, “Just let him hear what I promised her I’d say.” I had to swallow down the lump in my throat as I caught his murderous stare and saw his fists methodically clenching and unclenching themselves while I talked. Oh boy. “And, god,” I added as I saw a vein going haywire in his jaw, “don’t let it hurt too much.” I took a deep breath and said what I needed to as quickly as I could while still being sincere.
“BASTARD!!!” I flinched and closed my eyes, wondering vaguely if there really would be a light at the end of the tunnel, when there was a loud thud of a body, not mine, hitting the ground and then someone, a girl, let out a loud whoop of…excitement.
“Wahoo! Got him Bob! Nice!” I opened my eyes a crack, still expecting to be attacked by a very angry, very strong Vincent, and saw instead a girl in a purple cape bouncing up and down and clapping her hands excitedly while another person (‘Bob’ I assumed) in blue biker jeans and a black trench coat hefted a now very unconscious Vincent over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Sorry for the disturbance folks.” Another woman, this one at least in proper mourning clothes, though the silver stilettos were a bit much, apologized. She gave a formal Japanese bow to the confused crowd and then caught my eye and bowed again, apologizing to me personally. Then she glanced at Matthew, who had a weird amused look on his face. At least I think he was amused. I’ve never seen my little brother smile, so I couldn’t be sure that the slight upturn at one corner of his mouth meant he was entertained by the strange spectacle. The woman frowned, almost as if she was scolding him and he raised one eyebrow in silent reply. She looked away from him to me and then back to him and rolled her eyes then turned her attention back to the mourners. “Lovely service, please, carry on!” She said suddenly in a strange accent, a mix of British and Asian I think, and then she ran after the other two who were already reaching the adjoining funeral home.
I shook my head slowly as I walked back to my seat, trying to clear the confusion. “Who the heck was that? Matthew. Do you know that woman?” I asked. He nodded, but of course didn’t say anything else. I sighed, “You know, sometimes, just sometimes, the fact that you refuse to talk annoys me.” I informed him under my breath as the people around us started to disperse. I stood to go too, but Matthew put a hand on my arm and shook his head so I frowned and sat down again. I didn’t want to be here when they lowered Mrs. Mitchell’s casket, but if I asked why Matthew wanted to stay I would probably just get a shrug or a stern head shake. So I stared at the funeral home, wondering whether or not Vincent was ok. I know that it’s extremely mental to worry about someone who would gladly wring your neck, and had in all reality just tried to, but I couldn’t help it. He hadn’t spoken at all since telling me to drop dead that night, and he didn’t seem like the type to cry, so all that misery had to go somewhere. It made sense that I was his target. I’m sure he blamed me for everything, I mean; I blamed me, so who could blame him for blaming me? I began to think the word ‘blame’ until it lost all meaning. I was freaking out. They were finally lowering the casket since everyone else had gone. I didn’t like cemeteries, I didn’t like death, and I definitely didn’t like having to hear the clods of dirt thunking against the case that held the nicest person I’d ever met. How had everyone disappeared so quickly?
Matthew put his hand on my arm again to make me look up from my hands where I was mentally counting each and every line and crease since saying the funny word had stopped working. He pointed at the funeral house where the bouncy purple girl was tugging on Vincent’s arm, leading him to a black stretch limo. I was stretched thinly between anger that he didn’t even bother to look back at his mother’s grave and relief that he refused to take his eyes off the purple and black pigtails because then he wouldn’t see me still sitting there and go ballistic again. I sighed and wished for the billionth time that he didn’t hate me quite so much. It was rather disconcerting and extremely dangerous to my health.
I looked down again so Matthew pinched me. “Ow!” I exclaimed and looked up once more. Now the other woman and the man were walking towards us at super-fast speed. I blinked and tried to figure out how the hell she was able to walk through slightly muddy grass so quickly with six inch dagger thin heels and then had to bite my tongue to keep them from being the first words out of my mouth.
“I’m sorry about my nephew’s behavior earlier.” She called out when she was within five feet and then upon reaching our chairs plopped down gracefully and pulled out a mirror to fix her immaculate bun. Once she was satisfied everything was still perfect she smiled and held out her hand, “Hi, I’m Jemania Deshantz, but call me Jem.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I managed, seeing already what Mrs. Mitchell had been talking about in reference to her sister-in-law. “I’m Aaron, this is….”
“Your brother Matthew.” She finished for me, still smiling and refusing to let go of my hand, “Yes I know. You see, I’ve been looking for you and your brother for quite a few years now. Who could have guessed you were quite literally right under my nose whenever I visited my brother’s wife?” she sighed and let go finally. “Your parents used to work for my company but for some reason after they died in that research accident you two were wrongly place in Child Services.” I stared at her, positive she was talking to the wrong people. My parents had died of a drug over dose….At least, that’s what the social worker told us. I had been at school when it happened and Matthew was at his daycare center.
She sighed again and glanced at the limo where I could vaguely see something purple waving her arms out the sun roof in some kind of weird YMCA dance. “Oh well, now that I’ve found you I can give you this.” She pulled a pristine silver business card from her pocket, but handed it to Matthew, not me. “I was very fond of your parents, and it was extremely upsetting to lose them the way we did. What’s worse is that you got sent to your sister’s care! She’s never really forgiven the Company so I suppose that’s why she never bothered to tell us where you were. She didn’t want you two to be forced into joining something she hated. But I believe in free will, I would never force you. And you certainly can’t be very happy under your sister’s roof. I’ve met your sister. She isn’t fit to take care of a plastic doll let alone two living human beings. So, if you ever need anything, call that number and I will do my best to make things better for you.” All of this except her initial apology and introduction had been directed at my brother, who nodded but as usual, didn’t say anything. “Alright then, ciao darlings, remember, call me.” She leaned over and kissed Matthew’s cheek, waved at me and bounced off, her silent muscle man following.
I blinked a few times and then looked at Matthew who was pocketing the card. “I think my brain is going to explode.” I muttered.
“I’ll explain everything when we get home. And don’t be ridiculous. Your brain can’t explode. It’s a physical and medical impossibility for a person’s cranium to violently burst. It is almost as ridiculous a concept as spontaneous self-combustion. People don’t just catch on fire randomly and with no fire present. ” Matthew whispered. And he was right, my brain didn’t explode; it just shut down and I very promptly (and very girlishly) fainted.