Brother's Keeper by C. E. Smith

Author:C. E. Smith
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atlantic Books
Published: 2015-05-27T11:17:32+00:00

16

Burkett lies on his back with his eyes closed. The silence in the courtyard must resemble that of a monastery. He is attuned to the faintest scrape of stone or snapping twig in the woods outside the wall. Scissors snip from across the courtyard, when Akbar begins trimming Sajiv’s beard. It is about time for Voice of America, but Sajiv’s radio has run out of batteries.

He envisions an operating room. On blue-draped tables gleam the rows of instruments he needs for a laparoscopic gastric bypass. Yesterday it was a cholecystectomy. His mind seems to be working on parallel tracks: one listing the steps of the operation, the other recreating the sights and sounds. But today he has trouble sustaining the dream. To keep himself focused, he introduces a series of complications – unexpected bleeding, a cardiac arrhythmia (which in reality would be managed by an anesthesi­ologist), and a malfunctioning bovie that sets the drapes on fire.

Maybe he should feel guilty for having so much useless time, when time has been cut short for his brother. Or furious that these fanatics would turn what time he has into a means of torture.

He abandons the surgical conflagration when he hears Nick beginning his daily push-ups. Burkett sits up and watches, irritated by Nick’s rigid technique. The way he keeps his body straight and times his breathing, he could be a fitness instructor in a video. When he finishes the first set, dirt clings to his moist skin at the hairline. It reminds Burkett of their captors after prayer.

A month has passed since they arrived at this moldering compound. At first, when Nick began his workouts, Akbar in particular found much to ridicule, but today he spares only a glance from the delicate work of clipping Sajiv’s beard.

Between sets Nick leans against the wall with his eyes closed and his head bowed. Whatever the benefits of prayer, perhaps for Nick it serves also as a means of avoiding conversation. How can the two men, in such close quarters, go so many days saying so little? Burkett waits for the mumbling devotions to fail, the performance to fall apart. At some point, Nick will have to open his eyes and face the reality of their situation.

What could he possibly be saying? A problem with prayer would be the difficulty of composition, not having enough to say. Or perhaps Nick merely sits there repeating himself. Perhaps he recites the Lord’s Prayer over and over again. Or something shorter, simpler: Lord be with me, forgive me, be with me, forgive me. Perhaps God hears the intentions rather than the words.

When Nick resumes his push-ups, Burkett does a set of his own. He strains to reach thirty, well aware of the sloppiness of those final repe­titions – his body angled at the waist, his head too shallow. During the break that follows, Burkett expects some comment from Nick, but no words pass between them. Nick doesn’t even acknowledge Burkett’s exer­tions, except to do him the courtesy of lengthening the period of rest.

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