Evelyn

Evelyn suppessed a sob. The black teardrops of a Japanese horror film flickered down her face like a tired neon sign. Her blonde hair was mingled with the wet darkness from her eyes. She turned her mascara-scarred face away in anger and anguish as the man next to her put his hand on her shoulder and asked her what was wrong. Twenty seconds previously, an automated message on her cell phone had informed her of her father's death. For years she and her siblings had been struggling with one another and ending up heaving piteously on the pillar of strength who had just kicked the bucket, using him as a permanent crutch until they could stand on their own two feet. But now he was gone. Thoughts were flashing through her mind too fast for her to even see their license plate numbers. Who would make the funeral arrangements? Her dad was usually the one who arranged everything. What would happen next time the family got in a fight; or into a lawsuit? Who would pull them together? What did his will say? What were his last words?

She fumbled blindly with her cell phone until the the panic and confusion gave way to frustration and she managed to dial her brother's number. The phone rang four times and then there was a little beep.

"Hello? ...What? ...I can't hear you; I'll call you back."

She didn't have time for his stupid prank answering machine, and she willed the childish message to come to an end. When the prolonged beep at the end finally came, she started speaking as soon as it finished. She didn't have much to talk about with his answering machine though, so she simply said:

"This is Evelyn. Did you hear about dad yet? Call me back as soon as you get this message... Or maybe I'll go over there."

An hour later, she pulled up at her brother's house, I little bit drunk and with "Ain't Life a Kick in the Head" taunting her loudly over the radio. She didn't bother knocking, but opened the door and trickled mournfully inside. And there was her brother standing at his marble counter, listening to her voice on the answering machine.

"Hi," she said. Her brother flinched and then turned slowly around. His cold metallic mask of apathy had been jostled, and it took him a moment to rearrange his facial expressions into a thick fortress of serenity.

"Hello," he said. "At this point I would offer you a drink, but I can see that you've already had several. You clearly haven't drunk so much that you need to throw up, so sit down and I'll bring you a glass of water and a shoulder to lean on."

Evelyn nodded her head in numb acceptance, but as her brother left and she went into his living room, she puzzled a little bit over her his acceptance and un-ruffled stance towards this tragedy. As she thought more about it, she realized that this calm approach had always been her brother's; what had previously seemed to her an insufferable smirk staining his face she now perceived to be a comfortingly assuring smile, with a bit of sympathy mingled in. Of course, that kind of smile is, in fact, extremely irritating in normal circumstances, but these were no normal circumstances, and so Evelyn sheltered herself in the refuge of her brother's remembered smile while she waited for her iced water. Five minutes later, she was joined by her two sisters and her remaining parent, also covered in mascara stains and lipstick hurriedly spread on like a child still trying to draw in the lines might do. Her brother treated them all sympathetically and handled them even more gently than he usual handled women in distress.

But all that time, Evelyn watched through her tear-veiled eyes as he seamlessly took on her dad's normal role in the family. Soothing tempers and breaking up pointless arguments; helping the whole family relieve its sorrow without violence or harsh words. He left them all in the family room for a minute and she took that oppurtunity to walk around; she felt that walking was important just then, for some reason. She was in one of the many hallways when she heard some faint music and began to follow it like a fly to week-old meat. She gently prodded the door open and saw her brother supporting his forehead on his hands and letting out a vast sigh while "My Father's Gun" played stoically on the turntable. Then Evelyn finally realized what her brother had been doing. He was simply doing what he had to in order to keep the family together. Maybe this was why her dad died; years of lovingly caring for a family of whining ingrates, never clenching a fist or scowling in front of them, but always trying to make them understand what they were doing to each other and himself.

Evelyn went upstairs again and spoke to her sisters and mother; she told them about what she'd just seen, and they all swore to each other that they would do their best to make is simple for him by getting along from then on.

He came upstairs and in a matter of minutes, he was sitting in between two sisters and comforting them both at the same time, while trying to get them to stop shouting at each other. And Evelyn though that through her watery eyes, she saw a touch of despair seeping spilled ink through her brother's suave mask of feelings.