Listening to Dust by Brandon Shire Page A

“He’s not going with you.”  
    Stewart looked from the door to Dusty, pure malice flickering across his face. “You want to explain this, you fucking faggot?” he snarled as he held up a blue and red-edged international envelope and tossed it into the dirt at Dusty’s feet.  
    Even from the trailer Robbie could see that the envelope had been opened, and understanding its contents, started pushing the screen door open to stand by his brother. But Dusty heard the door’s squeaky spring before Robbie got it open even an inch and waved him back inside without taking his eyes from Stewart’s face.  
    Now how had Pa gotten that letter? Robbie wondered. That was a question in itself. Old man Bo down at the post office weren’t too fond of his pa and was ribbing him constantly about things that Robbie didn’t understand. But Bo wouldn’t never have mixed up one of them envelopes and dropped it off at Stewart’s instead of at Dusty’s where it belonged. Would he? Those envelopes was too different from anything else their little post office handled; Mr. Bo had even said so himself.  
    “What will all the boys at the roundhouse say when they find out I suck dicks because you raised your firstborn to fuck little boys?” Dusty jeered at Stewart. He started laughing, making a mockery of Stewart’s building rage. “What do you think they’ll say, Stew ? Fruit don’t fall far from the tree...something like that?” Dusty taunted.  
    Robbie started whining without realizing he was making any noise. He could see his Pa was getting madder and madder but Dusty just kept poking at him like an old broken dog.  
    Stewart mumbled something Robbie couldn’t hear and when he went to get out of the truck, Dusty kicked the side of it in with his foot, denting it and slamming it closed again.  
    “Get the fuck out of here, you drunken piece of shit,” Dusty said as he reached down for the letter. He took his eyes off of Stewart for a second, and when he looked back up the shotgun barrel was staring him in the face as he stood to his feet.  
    He stood fully and sneered at Stewart, “Fuck you.”  
    Robbie screamed in the background when he first saw his pa bring the gun up, knowing he must have had it in his lap the whole time. But it was already too late; the blast blew Dusty back and off his feet as Robbie raced out the door.  
    “Noooo!” Robbie wailed as he raced forward and crouched beside his brother.  
     “Fuck that faggot!” Stewart screamed. “Get your ass in the truck, boy. Now!”  
    When Stewart spit, and the juice from his dip hit Dusty in the face, Robbie lost all control. He screamed at the top of his lungs, ripped the shotgun from Stewart’s grasp, grabbed Stewart by the neck, and jerked him through the window of the pickup in a blinding rage. There was a snap as Stewart’s hips cleared the truck’s window frame and Robbie tossed him away before he knelt at Dusty’s side bawling in agony.  
    “You killed my Dusty, you killed my Dusty,” he murmured over and over.  
    Dusty’s chest was mangled and when Robbie pulled him into his arms he saw Dusty’s eyes flutter for a moment before he drifted away. He tried to say something, but he was gone before any words escaped. Robbie was sure he was mouthing ‘little brother.’  
    “Dusty, no. Please don’t leave me. Please, Dusty, please….”  
    And he sat there weeping for half the day with Dusty clutched in his arms before his tears finally dried. He put Dusty down carefully, wiped the dirt and spittle from his face one last time, and then got his bike out of Dusty’s shed and rode to the sheriff’s office to tell them what his pa had done.  
    *****  
    “I didn’t mean to do it, Mr. Stephen,” Robbie said as his tears started falling on the table between them. “But he hurt my Dusty. He just took him from me and....” He started crying violently as the diner went silent again. Miss Emily reached over and pulled his head to her