4 months in: life in a fantasy

tonight marks 4 months since my brother died. the first time. my mom & harry & i spent the day together, just like we did on january 19th. then we were waiting for scottie to get back from florida & were living in a state of panic, wondering if he would call us. what kind of state he would be in. if he could stay clean around his friends. in spite of all this, we had such a beautiful day together. today was an eerily similar day. we went to connect with scottie at rittenhouse square park. the sun was finally out, after days & days of rain. the eclectic gatherings of philadelphians were crowded on worn wooden benches, dangling off of wide concrete walls, scrunched on any available patch of dry grass, balancing on the edge the shallow wish-filled fountain. we parked next to my brother's "shred" graffiti tag, across from the concrete pond. as harry walked my mom over to the water, i dug 3 crusty pennies from the bottom of her purse. i gave one to harry, which he promptly flicked into the dirty liquid a few inches from the wall. "hi scuncle!" my mom called into the air as she tossed the bronzed coin. i lightly & apprehensively kissed mine, which left a metallic smell on my fingertips, & said "i miss you."

i sat on the ledge as my mom & harry traversed the stairs, chased the bobble headed pigeons, & fawned over each panting dog that walked by. i heard a man behind me grumble loudly about the cia. i turned around a find an overweight man in his thirties on a bench by himself. he couldn't stop talking, even though everyone that walked by quickened their pace & blatantly ignored him. he took a long drink from his iced tea carton & stood up. "my mama always said that if you don't want anyone to read what you've written... don't write anything down."

i thought of my brother & how he had been so afraid of the fbi & government & he was convinced that people were after him. i would listen to him with a mixture of shock, confusion, sorrow & anger. but i knew that although i couldn't necessarily understand the unfounded paranoia he was experiencing, it was very horrifyingly real to him. & how shitty it must have been for him - having his family tell him that we didn't believe him. of course we didn't say it like that. we wanted him to feel relieved & safe in knowing that no one was out to get him. that white cargo vans driving by where probably just work vehicles. that the chirping bugs, the fish in the gulf, & the vulture perched on top of my mom's house in florida were nothing more than the native wildlife. that the reason he was hallucinating was probably as a result of the tremendous amounts of drugs he had been taking, & his body & brain just needed some time to normalize.

but then i wondered - what if scott was never able to reach the balance that he needed? what if he was starting down a path that ultimately lead him to live a life like this man behind me? in my fantasies of my brother, i picture him growing old, somehow kicking his horrible habits, getting his mental illness under control, & starting a more decent existence. he someday has a family & they live nearby. & his children play hours on end with mine - like we had done with our own cousins. that we grow old together as friends, as brother & sister are supposed to do. my dreams didn't allow the reality of where scott was actually headed. not towards cleaning up with a job or family. but towards more drug abuse, the insatiable need for alcohol, his bouts of depression & mania becoming more & more pronounced. meanwhile his rational mind getting lost behind confusion & paranoia. it was sad to think that i may have been deluding myself all these months, well... these past couple years. that it wasn't as easy for my brother to flick the switch in his brain as i wanted it to be. & that expectation was something my brother knew he could never live up to.

walking home, as the skies turned grey & clouds gathered their ripe raindrops, my mom pointed out that 4 months ago scottie had been at the park the same time we had been there. my skin crawled a little bit & suddenly my mom gasped. she said she felt like someone was walking directly behind her & brushed against her arm, but when she turned around, we were alone. but somehow we both know that's never entirely true.