highlights shine as he sways in his chair side to side. It sounds ridiculous, bonkers even, that I miss seeing him, because I literally just met him, like three days ago, but there was something about talking with Brody that first night; watching Gavin walk circles in the yard; feeling a genuine truth about him and his apology to me for acting so odd earlier that morning. Getting stuck is what Brody calls it. It’s like both brothers are comforting and dismantling to be around all at the same time. The dismantling effect with Gavin’s strange behavior and Brody’s greater than average good looks and tough guy persona make me feel vulnerable. The comfort they exude though, makes me feel accepted and understood in a way I haven’t felt before.
I’m not sure whether it is the pendulum motion of Brody swinging in his chair or the fact he is half clothed that hypnotizes me; maybe a little of both.
My reverie is broken by yelling. It sounds like Gavin’s voice. I angle my body away from the window, only seeing a sliver of Brody’s immediate reaction; dodging from his chair.
“Gavin, get back here,” says a woman deeper in the house.
“No, Mom! Leave me alone!” Gavin yells.
The sound of a door slamming then the woman calls out again. “Get back in the house Gavin. Gavin! Brody!”
I try to make sense of the yelling.
“Gavin!” Brody shouts.
My heart pounds and panic courses through my veins as I try to angle further to the corner of my window and find the front door from which Gavin might flee, but I can’t see it from here.
I move from the small side window stealthily, turn off the light switch, and rush to the big window, facing the front of the house. Finally, through the branches of the oak tree that shield my window, I see Gavin in the front yard, pacing.
“I’m not coming in, Brody!” Gavin yells as the front door shuts and Brody and their mom come into view.
Brody’s voice is even as he approaches Gavin. “Hey Gav, it’s all right. It’s all right.”
He inches toward Gavin as the latter continues to pace back and forth. Finally, Brody comes to stand beside his brother somehow making Gavin stop walking, although he continues to rock side to side.
I’m too far away to hear Brody’s words, but whatever he is saying is obviously calming. Gavin stops rocking and looks directly into Brody’s eyes. I can see Gavin’s face, under his green and beige army cap. His expression troubles me, full of pain combined with a wild rage in his deep set eyes. Why is he so upset? Did his mother do something or did he do something to her? I look back at her still standing at the front porch, her hands raised to her mouth, covering her own sadness. I think of how I must look when I spiral out of control. Probably how Gavin looks like now, standing in front of his brother like he is challenging the mood within him to be triggered. That defiant look and the feeling I am getting from the scene is all to familiar. It frightens me for a moment to consider that is what I must look like.
Suddenly, Gavin moves, shuffling his feet toward the house and his mother. Brody walks next to him, shoulder brushing shoulder; the only contact I have seen Brody make with him since we met. Gavin stops in front of his mother and speaks under his breath. His somber face and downcast eyes suggest it is an apology. Then all three of them walk up onto the porch and disappear into the house.
“Honey, why are you in the dark?” Mom asks, startling me nearly out of my skin. She flips on the light switch and spies me at the window. Still flustered, I stumble over my words, “Um, just looking out the window.” I gesture toward the glass with my thumb.
“Oh, okay.” Unexpectedly, she comes in and sits on my bed. I move away from the window and sit at my desk, making little eye contact with her. I pick up my camera to busy my hands.
She looks around the room then asks, “Can we chat?”
I stop fiddling with the shutter-release
I’m not sure whether it is the pendulum motion of Brody swinging in his chair or the fact he is half clothed that hypnotizes me; maybe a little of both.
My reverie is broken by yelling. It sounds like Gavin’s voice. I angle my body away from the window, only seeing a sliver of Brody’s immediate reaction; dodging from his chair.
“Gavin, get back here,” says a woman deeper in the house.
“No, Mom! Leave me alone!” Gavin yells.
The sound of a door slamming then the woman calls out again. “Get back in the house Gavin. Gavin! Brody!”
I try to make sense of the yelling.
“Gavin!” Brody shouts.
My heart pounds and panic courses through my veins as I try to angle further to the corner of my window and find the front door from which Gavin might flee, but I can’t see it from here.
I move from the small side window stealthily, turn off the light switch, and rush to the big window, facing the front of the house. Finally, through the branches of the oak tree that shield my window, I see Gavin in the front yard, pacing.
“I’m not coming in, Brody!” Gavin yells as the front door shuts and Brody and their mom come into view.
Brody’s voice is even as he approaches Gavin. “Hey Gav, it’s all right. It’s all right.”
He inches toward Gavin as the latter continues to pace back and forth. Finally, Brody comes to stand beside his brother somehow making Gavin stop walking, although he continues to rock side to side.
I’m too far away to hear Brody’s words, but whatever he is saying is obviously calming. Gavin stops rocking and looks directly into Brody’s eyes. I can see Gavin’s face, under his green and beige army cap. His expression troubles me, full of pain combined with a wild rage in his deep set eyes. Why is he so upset? Did his mother do something or did he do something to her? I look back at her still standing at the front porch, her hands raised to her mouth, covering her own sadness. I think of how I must look when I spiral out of control. Probably how Gavin looks like now, standing in front of his brother like he is challenging the mood within him to be triggered. That defiant look and the feeling I am getting from the scene is all to familiar. It frightens me for a moment to consider that is what I must look like.
Suddenly, Gavin moves, shuffling his feet toward the house and his mother. Brody walks next to him, shoulder brushing shoulder; the only contact I have seen Brody make with him since we met. Gavin stops in front of his mother and speaks under his breath. His somber face and downcast eyes suggest it is an apology. Then all three of them walk up onto the porch and disappear into the house.
“Honey, why are you in the dark?” Mom asks, startling me nearly out of my skin. She flips on the light switch and spies me at the window. Still flustered, I stumble over my words, “Um, just looking out the window.” I gesture toward the glass with my thumb.
“Oh, okay.” Unexpectedly, she comes in and sits on my bed. I move away from the window and sit at my desk, making little eye contact with her. I pick up my camera to busy my hands.
She looks around the room then asks, “Can we chat?”
I stop fiddling with the shutter-release
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