Brothers

“You probably say that to all the men,” I said to the waitress.

“Just the lookers,” she said, pulling a pencil from her apron. “So, what’ll it be today? The regular?”

“The regular? This is my first time here.”

She leaned forward on the counter and brushed her auburn hair to the side. “You must have a regular order,” she said as she winked at me and twirled her hair with the pencil.

I leaned forward. “My regular is the same it’s always been for as long as I can remember: three scrambled eggs, sausage, home fries, wheat toast, blueberry muffin, and a large apple juice. As regular as you can get.” I returned her wink. She smiled.

“How long have you worked here?” I said.

Before she could answer, laughter caught my attention. I swiveled the stool to see three men sitting at a table in the corner eating breakfast. The two facing me were laughing. One of them saw me and nodded in my direction. I nodded back. I turned to finish my conversation with the waitress, but she was gone.

While I waited, I looked at the décor. It was the kind you’d expect in a place called Memory Lane Diner: walls covered with vinyl albums and posters of musicians whose names I couldn’t remember, models of classic muscle cars on shelves everywhere, and an old-fashioned jukebox in the corner playing something from the fifties or sixties.

Laughter came from a table in the corner of the diner. There were three men eating breakfast. One of them waved at me to join them. I pointed to my chest and mouthed the word ‘me’ in a questioning manner. He nodded.

I got up from the counter and walked by a table with a young couple and a little boy. They looked at me. The boy said, “Hi, R—”

“Honey,” interrupted the woman as she covered his mouth. I stopped and looked at the boy for a moment. The woman removed her hand and the boy smiled. I thought that incident somewhat strange, but quickly dismissed it. I continued walking toward the three men.

They seemed to be in their early or mid-twenties and wore what appeared to be auto mechanics clothes with name patches sewn into their shirts above the breast pockets: Joe, Gary, and Buddy. I didn’t know them, but at least I wouldn’t forget their names. Next to Joe was a fourth plate of half-eaten food: scrambled eggs, home fries, sausage, and wheat toast.

“Join us?” said Gary after he swallowed a mouthful of food.

“Looks like you have a full table,” I said, pointing to the plate next to Joe.

“Don’t worry,” he said. He took the plate and put it on the table behind him. “He left.”

“Do I know any of you?” I said.

“Doubt it,” said Joe, not looking up from his plate.

Curious, I said, “OK. I’ll join you.”

Joe sighed and slowly stood up to let me slide into the booth next to him. Gary, sitting opposite me, smiled. Next to him, Buddy kept eating. I sat silently for a few moments, expecting introductions. None came.

“So,” I said, breaking the silence. “It appears you all work at the same place.”

The man next to me nodded. Gary finished chewing. “At Buddy’s Automotive,” he said, pointing out the window. “The one garage in town, about a half mile down the road.”

A waitress came with a plate of food and placed it in front of me. “Thought you’d left me stranded at the altar,” she said, smiling.

“Excuse me?” I said, as she handed me silverware wrapped in a paper napkin.

“It’s a joke. You were at the counter earlier, and now—never mind. Not a funny joke, when you think about.” She paused, seemingly embarrassed. “Do you need anything else? Ketchup for your home fries, or anything?”

“You can tell me who the food’s for, because I haven’t ordered yet,” I said.

“Yes you—you know what? You’re right,” she said as she picked up the plate and placed it on the table behind us. “I must’ve brought you someone else’s order. Silly me.” She took her ordering pad from one of the pockets on her apron. “What’ll it be?”

I thought for a moment. “I’ll have my regular: two eggs sunny side up, bacon, white toast, and a large OJ.”

“OK. You other fellas all set?”

Buddy and the man next to me nodded. Gary said, “Yes, Jackie, we’re all set. Thanks.” He smiled at her as she left.

“Jackie,” I said, trying to recall where I’d heard that name before. I unfolded the napkin and placed the silverware on the table in front of me; fork on the left and knife on the right. “Jackie,” I whispered.

Buddy lowered his fork, put it on the plate, and leaned back. The man next to me stopped chewing. Gary grinned.

“What’s the matter?” I said.

Nobody answered. Buddy picked up his fork and started eating, the man next to me finished chewing, and Gary kept grinning. I ignored whatever it was that had just happened. A few moments passed. Then Gary spoke.

“Where are you headed today?”

I thought for a moment. I said, “Murray’s Bike Shop.”

“Really?” he said.

“Really,” I said. The other two men exchanged looks.

“Interesting,” said Gary, nodding his head.

“How so?” I leaned back and crossed my arms. He glanced at the man next to me.

“I’m just curious as to what you plan on doing there. Are you buying a bike?” He bit into a slice of wheat toast.

“Applying for a job,” I said.

Buddy gagged on a mouthful of eggs. He washed them down with some water, composed himself, and said, “Murray’s? Why there?”

“I need the money and I like working on bicycles,” I answered.

A waitress came with a plate of food. “Here you go, honey,” she said as she placed it in front of me, winked, and left. I didn’t remember ordering any food yet, but thought she wouldn’t bring it out if I hadn’t. I put the napkin on my lap, picked up the fork, and started with the eggs.

“Exactly how long you been workin’ on bikes?” said the man next to me.

I swallowed before answering. “I don’t know. I think I’ve always enjoyed doing anything with bicycles.” A few moments of silence passed as we ate.

“Remember the so-called accident?” said the man next to me.

“Joe! What the hell—,” said Gary, before Joe interrupted him.

“I know what I’m doin’.”

“The hell you do! You know what the doctor said. Any—”

“Screw the doctor, Mr. I-always-follow-the-rules. After three years, askin’ a few questions won’t do any more harm than already’s been done.” He looked across the table at Buddy.

Buddy threw down his fork hurried out of the diner. The place was half-filled with patrons. Most of them were staring at us. After a moment, they slowly started eating and talking. Gary started to get up.

“Leave him be,” said the man next to me. “Sooner or later he’s got to deal with it.”

Gary leaned across the table. “Don’t be obtuse. He’s been dealing with it for three years.” He stood, took a few steps toward the exit, and then came back. He put both hands on the table, stared down at the guy sitting next to me, and said, “Which is more than I can say for you, Joe.” Then he walked out of the diner. I looked out the window next to our booth and saw a man leaning against the bed of a pickup truck, his back to the diner. Gary walked to him. I watched them for a few moments.

“Let’s hear it for Mr. Ivy League,” said the man next to me, clapping as he looked out the window. “Thinks he can use a five dollar word just ‘cuz he got educated. Guess what? I seen the friggin’ movie, so I know what obtuse means.” He stabbed a pile of home fries and shoved it into his mouth. “Your fault,” he said while chewing.

“Excuse me?” I said before taking a drink of juice.

“Sounded like you remembered her.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No kiddin’,” he said, taking a gulp from his mug and setting it down harshly, spilling coffee.

A waitress stopped at our table. “Fellas need anything?”

My plate was still half-covered with food, but I was full. Besides, I needed to leave. “I’m done,” I said. “Could you please bring my check?”

“Oh, OK. Was everything all right?” She looked at the man next to me. He subtly shook his head.

“Yes,” I said.

She reached over the table to take my plate. When I handed it to her, our hands touched. I felt something, close to déjà vu, but not quite. It was as if I’d experienced the sensation of her touch before, but not in this setting. I hesitated letting go of the plate. She looked at me.

“Something there?” she said.

“What?” I said, confused by her question. Not knowing what she meant, I said, “No, nothing there. It’s just—nothing.” I let go of the plate and she slowly backed away, watching me, until she reached the counter and turned around. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we—”

“What’s her name?” said the man next to me, tilting his head in her direction.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. I didn’t—”

“You know it. Tell me.”

Growing irritated, I said, “No, I don’t.”

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wallet. He said, “Name’s Jackie.” He took a photograph from one of the sleeves in the wallet and placed it face down on the table. He studied me for a moment.

“Her name’s Jacqueline Rachel Murray,” he said.

“OK,” I said. “I guess that’s good to know.” I looked at my watch. “I’ve got places to go,” I said, motioning that I needed to get up.

“What places?” he said while blocking my way out of the booth.

“I—just places. What is this? Are you going to move so I can leave?”

He continued. “Her name is Jackie Murray. I’m Joe Murray.” He pointed out the window. “The guy leanin’ against the pickup and cryin’ like a baby is Buddy Murray. Next to him, playin’ the part of mommy, is Gary Murray.”

I looked out the window at the two men, then back at Joe.

“So,” I said, “you’re all related. Brothers and sister?”

“Close,” he said, leaning toward me. “Brothers, yes. But not sister. Sister-in-law. She married Rick Murray.”

“Another brother.”

There was a long pause before he answered. “Yeah,” he said, clearing his voice. His demeanor softened. “Jackie married my brother, Rick.” He waited for me to say something. I looked at my watch.

“Look,” he said as he picked up the photograph and handed it to me. It was of a young couple, apparently taken on their wedding day. The woman looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. I didn’t recognize the man.

“Your wallet,” he said.

“What?”

“Your wallet.” He motioned impatiently with his hand. “Take it out.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

I put the picture down, took out my wallet, and held it in front of him.

“Open it,” he said.

I did. The first thing I saw, in the front plastic sleeve, was a picture exactly like the one on the table.

“I don’t understand. Why do I have—?”

“Rick, look at the picture again,” he said, pointing at the photograph.

“What did you call me?” I said.

“Your name,” he said.

I thought for a moment, trying to retrieve a thought—

“Yeah,” he said. “I just told you a few minutes ago that I have a brother named Rick Murray.” He sipped his coffee, stared into the cup for a moment, and sipped again before placing the cup back on the table. He turned toward me and looked out the window.

I turned and saw two men outside walking toward the diner. One had his arm around the other’s shoulder. The man next to me nudged my shoulder.

“Know their names?” he said.

“Why would I?” I said, turning toward him.

He sighed. “Still nuthin’, huh?”

“What?” I said. Two men walked into the diner, over to our booth, and sat down. They wore almost identical work clothes with name patches sewn into the shirts. One was Buddy, the other Gary. They both looked at the man next to me. He shook his head, this time more noticeably. Then he turned to me.

“Brothers,” he said. He pointed to himself. “Joe Murray.” Then he pointed at the two men across from us. “Buddy and Gary Murray.” He pointed at me and said, “Rick Murray. Brothers.”

“Brothers?” I said, looking at each of them. “I don’t have any brothers.”

Joe shifted in his seat so that he was facing me. “Yeah, you do,” he said. “Just don’t remember.” He paused. “Don’t remember anything before the accident three years ago. Don’t remember gettin’ hitched to Jacqueline Lawrence. Don’t remember workin’ at Mike’s Bike Shop and eventually buyin’ the sorry business, turnin’ it around. Don’t remember us.” He turned away from me and stared at the back wall. “Don’t remember a friggin’ thing.”

I said, “I don’t know what this is all about, but—”

“It happened three years ago,” said Buddy.

“Buddy, are you sure you’re ready for this?” said Gary.

“Yeah, I am,” he said. “Three years ago, on an August summer night, you and I spent a few hours after work at the pub. I was drowning my marriage problems in a bottle while you acted as my lifeguard.”

He stopped, downed a glass of water, and looked beyond me. I turned and saw a waitress leaning against the counter a few feet from us. She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. She quickly turned away when she noticed me watching.

I looked around the diner. All eyes were focused on me. I turned back to Buddy. I looked at the man next to me, and then at Gary. What had one of them said a few minutes ago? Brothers? The waitress—my wife? Sister? Which was it? My thoughts slipped away into the depths of a murky pond, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t retrieve them. They swirled until…until—

It was getting late,” said Buddy. “You wanted to get home before it got too dark to ride your bike. I offered you a ride, but you said I was too drunk to drive. You took my keys, gave them to the bartender, and told him to call Joe to come get me. After you left, I bribed the bartender and got my keys back. I caught up to you on the main road. I was too—”

“Buddy,” said Gary, “you don’t have to—”

“No,” said Buddy, raising his hand. “It’s been three years. I need to say this to him.” He paused, wiped his eyes with his sleeve, and continued. “I was drunk, I didn’t stop the truck. I don’t think you ever saw me coming. I hit you while you were riding your bike. I—I sent you headfirst into a telephone pole.” He paused. “Rick, I’m so sorry. I never should have driven that night. I should’ve visited you sooner. I just—” He wiped his eyes.

“Rick,” said Gary as he handed Buddy a handful of napkins. “You suffered a severe head injury and fell into a coma. The doctors said you’d never wake up, and even if you did, you’d be brain dead. Except, nine months later, you did wake up. But you didn’t remember anything. You didn’t remember us, Jackie, mom and dad—you didn’t remember anybody. You remembered how to do things like getting dressed, cooking a meal, or fixing a bike. Stuff like that. But as far as people and things that happened in your past, you lost all memory.”

The man next to me said, “And your short term memory’s about as reliable as a Ford Pinto in a rear-end collision. After a few minutes, you forget who you’re talking to, where you’re going, what you’re doing. Not to be obtuse,” he looked at Gary when he said that, “but your brain’s about as useful as a condom in a convent.”

“Joe!” said Gary.

“It’s the truth, Gary. I’m the only one willin’ to say out loud what we’re all thinkin’. The hell’s it matter, anyway? In a few minutes he’s gonna forget what I said and then everything will be peachy between us. Ain’t that right, Ricky?” He pinched my cheek as he said ‘Ricky.’

“He’s your brother,” said Gary, leaning forward on the table. “Talk to him with respect.”

Like a lion whose territory has been challenged, Joe leaned across the table and looked Gary in the eye. “Look at him, Gary. Go ahead. I dare you. Take a real good look. Just once in your life, open your eyes to reality. Look at him and tell me he’s our brother.” He slammed his fist on the table, shaking the coffee cups and startling all of us. “Dammit, Gary, he doesn’t even know us!” He inhaled, exhaled, leaned back, and then spoke softly, but intensely. “There’s more to bein’ someone’s brother than just sharin’ a few genes.”

“You’re right, Joe,” said Gary, sitting back and folding his arms. “You’re absolutely right.”

“This is nonsense,” I said. “How can—how did I get here if I forget where I’m going?”

Joe spoke softly. “Where did you wake up this morning?”

“I woke up at—” I didn’t know. “I—”

“Where you goin’ today?” he said.

“To the library,” I answered.

Gary, sounding as if he was embarrassed for me, said, “When I asked you a few minutes ago, you said you were going to Murray’s Bike Shop.”

I looked at them, confused. Why were they saying these things? I don’t know them. Why—

“Rick,” said Buddy, “I’m so sorry. If I could change anything, go back in time—” He started crying.

“For God’s sake, enough with the cryin’ already,” said the man next to me. “Buddy, there’s not a damn thing you can do about it, so grow up.” He looked at Gary. “I told you he wasn’t ready for this.” He turned to me. “Rick, today you woke up in a rehab place for people who can’t remember their own friggin’ names. Been livin’ there for the past two-and-a-half years. Every Thursday we pick you up, eat breakfast here ‘cuz it was your favorite place, and then spend the rest of the day draggin’ you all ‘round town, tryin’ to jog your memory. Like it’ll make a difference. The better part of two years we been doin’ this, and today’s the first time you showed any sign of rememberin’ anything.” He looked back at the counter. No one was there. He said, “Jackie,” and shook his head.

“It was the way you said her name,” said Gary. “It seemed like there was something, a connection maybe, forming inside you.”

"I'm telling you, this is nonsense,” I said. “I don’t know any of you, so of course I don’t recognize or remember you.”

A waitress stopped at our table. She tapped the Joe’s shoulder. He stood and let her slide in next to me. She surprised me by taking my hand and caressing it as she spoke.

“You said my name. You said Jackie. I saw it in your eyes. There was something—but then—” Her eyes watered. “It was gone.” She paused and then said, “I’m sorry. I thought I could do this, but I can’t. Not like this.” She got up, ran to the back of the diner, and through the ‘Employees Only’ door. I watched the door swing in and out, in and out, until it stopped. I couldn’t look away from it.

Joe sat down. Gary said, “It’s been difficult for her. You were married for only two years before the accident. She sees you once a week when we bring you here. She feels guilty not visiting you more, but she’s got her hands full running the diner. I’ve told her to find herself another man, get married, raise a family. But,” he looked at Joe for a moment. “She still loves you.”

I had enough. I said, “I’ve never been married, I’ve never been in a biking accident and it’s time for me to go.” I started to move, but the man next to me remained seated. He nodded at Gary and pointed behind him.

“You need to move so I can get up,” I said.

Gary reached for a plate of food on the table behind him. He said, “This is yours,” and dropped it on the table in front of me. A few home fries spilled over the side. “When we got here, we all ordered. You ate some of your breakfast and then had to use the restroom. You were gone for about five minutes. When you came out, you must have forgotten everything about coming here and who you were with. You saw Jackie, and, as usual, didn’t remember her. So you did what you always do when we bring you here. You flirted with her. You eventually ordered and she went along with it. While you waited for your food, I waved you over. And here we are now.”

I tried to get up, but Gary reached across the table and grabbed my arm.

“You have to believe us! Please, you—”

“Gary,” said Joe.

Gary let go and slouched back, looking like a child who’d just lost a puppy. Quietly he said, “You have to believe us.” He looked out the window.

I muscled my way past the man next to me. I asked nobody in particular where the restroom was.

“It’s over there, Rick,” said a little boy sitting with a young couple. He pointed to the rear of the diner.

I entered the small restroom and washed my hands. I looked in the mirror above the sink. How did I get that scar above my left eye? How long had that been there? I traced it with my finger.

I stared at my reflection.

For no apparent reason, I took out my wallet. In it, I found a picture of a young couple, apparently taken on their wedding day. I slid the photo out of the protective sleeve and turned it over. On the back was written ‘Jackie and Rick, always and forever.’ I saw another picture in the wallet. It was of four boys, probably in their teens, sitting on their bikes, arms around each other. I didn’t recognize any of them. I put the picture of the young couple in my wallet. I folded the wallet and put it in my pocket.

I looked at my reflection.

Where was I? I looked around. A bathroom. I splashed water on my face, dried it, opened the door, and walked out. A diner. I took a few steps and noticed three men sitting at a table. They were staring at me. I nodded at them, and one of them nodded back.

Standing behind the counter, straightening her apron and brushing her hair to the side, was possibly the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I walked over to place my order.

I sat on a stool, and before I could say anything, she winked at me and said, “Now there’s a sight for sore eyes. What’ll it be today? The regular?”