Brief Ten

Angus


His aim was excellent. The yellow liquid projected from the balcony shot straight out at first and seemed to hover suspended in mid air for a few milliseconds before spilling on the crowd below like warm rain. Angus Deville pulled his pants up and took a step back from the railing. He leaned back against the window and giggled as he listened to the angry screams and cursing drifting up from the street. I watched from the safety of the shadow the awning cast over our balcony which was one story above and to the left of the Devilles.

He must have felt my eyes on him as he looked up at me grinning. His voice was hushed but the threat loud and clear. “You didn’t fucking see anything, yeah?!” I shook my head. He waived his fist at me and disappeared inside the apartment. I wasn’t about to rat on Angus. Not if I wanted to remain in one piece. Plus, I had no desire whatsoever to discuss anything with Angus’s parents. The Devilles were the outcasts of our neighborhood. We hardly saw Mr. Deville as he was always away on “business” trips as Father used to say finger-quoting in the air. And as for the Missis, she was always too busy entertaining different sorts of shady gentlemen up in the apartment, loud music and her shrieking laughter drifting through the corridors. Every time she saw me she always said the same thing. “Hey Leo, boy you’re growing up so fast…Have you seen Angus?” And I used to say, “Hi Mrs. Deville. No, I haven’t, sorry Mrs. Deville” .

Truth was I knew where Angus was most of the time. I knew who he hung out with and what they were up to. But Angus was my friend and I was clearly instructed by him to not reveal any information to his folks. He used to go off sometimes with his “buddies” as he used to call them and I never saw him for days. And then he’d come back with a new bicycle or tape player or a pair of roller skates. I never asked any questions for Angus didn’t like being questioned and it made him mad and when Angus got mad, Angus used his fists. And he was good at that.

I always hoped Angus would get tired and bored of his buddies and their little games, but as the years passed and he got older, the games got bigger and more dangerous and Angus got in deeper and deeper. I went off to school and lost touch with Angus for years. Then one day word came. My father told me over the phone.

Angus was shot nine times in the chest and head in front of his wife as he sat in his driveway in his Porsche Cayenne. He was pronounced dead on the scene. People always said Angus would end up this way and no one was really too surprised.

Maybe we all make our own destiny, maybe we all make our own choices, or maybe, just maybe, we all need someone sometimes to hear our cry for help even when we ourselves do not. Maybe if I told Mr. Deville about Angus urinating from the balcony that day, maybe I could have changed the course of his life somehow. Maybe.

Rest in peace Angus.