The Little Brother by Victoria Patterson

(she left the Bible there, I’m convinced, hoping to convert one of us while we watched TV) were the remains of nachos on a paper plate. Gabe’s specialty, ready-grated cheese on tortilla chips, microwaved for a minute, topped with Old El Paso mild salsa from a jar.
    Gabe settled back in Dad’s chair.
    Kevin, to my great surprise, stood and walked to him and—to this day, I’m still surprised, but I know what I saw—he knelt in front of the recliner and set his head in Gabe’s lap.
    Gabe stroked Kevin’s dark hair.
    It continued.
    Holy shit, I thought. What the hell is happening? All I knew for sure was that Kevin and Gabe had done something that they shouldn’t have, and that they might be doing other things, too, and that they’d kill me if they knew I was there.
    I backtracked slowly, making my way to the door as quietly as possible, wanting a glass of water, but knowing that I needed to escape. The thought of what I’d seen roiled my stomach, and suddenly I had to use the bathroom. It was warm and still out, the sky a hazy white that made me somehow more nauseated.
    I circled around the yard, came to the front door, made considerable noise opening it and walking down the hallway. Coughed a few times. When I reached the entry to the living room, I saw with relief that Kevin was back on the couch.
    Not able to make it to my bathroom, I released my bowels into the toilet in the half bathroom near the living room. My skin wet with sweat, I flushed the toilet, washed my hands, and then stoodbefore the door, not wanting to exit. The fan made its whirring noise, but I could hear them talking, though I couldn’t make out what they said. At one point I heard my name.
    But I had nowhere to go. They both watched me come through the door, and Gabe smiled at my apparent discomfort, trying to put me at ease.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” he asked.
    â€œNothing,” I said.
    â€œYou sick?” said Kevin. He said this without real concern or empathy or interest.
    â€œNah,” I said. “I’m fine.” I decided to change the subject. “Where’s Dad?”
    â€œHe’s not here.”
    â€œAre you sure?”
    â€œYeah. He’s with Nancy somewhere.”
    I said nothing for a moment. “How was your Fourth?” I asked, thinking small talk might help.
    They looked at each other and laughed. I waited until they quieted.
    â€œWhat is it?” I asked.
    â€œWant to see?” said Kevin.
    Gabe wouldn’t look me in the eyes.
    â€œSee what?”
    â€œOur Fourth,” said Kevin.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I had no idea. I noticed Gabe’s Samsung video camera beside him on the chair. “Gabe?” I said.
    For a long, horrible moment, Gabe continued to avoid eye contact with me, setting his hand on the camera.
    â€œWhat do you think I mean?” Kevin asked.
    Then I knew. “You made a porno,” I said.
    â€œThat’s right, amigo ,” Kevin said. “Wanna watch?”
    I leaned against the wall, feeling light-headed. “Who’s in it?” I asked. “Gabe, are you in it?”
    Gabe shrugged. “No one you know,” he said.
    â€œJesus, Gabe,” I said. “What did you do?”
    â€œDon’t worry,” he said.
    I stared at him and didn’t say anything.
    I was ready to ignore what Kevin and my brother told me about making a porno, just as I disregarded the repugnant parts of my brother’s personality.
    I’d like to say that at this point, I knew that Tove might somehow be involved, and I also knew that I had a moral duty to investigate further, to make sure that she hadn’t been hurt.
    But I don’t recall being torn morally.
    Rather, I would like to have forgotten the whole deal.
    People love to be indignant. “If it had been me,” they like to say, if they suspect that an acquaintance or family member might be a rapist, molester, drug dealer,