May 22, 2009
If he?d been asked that morning if he knew that by the end of the night he?d be dead, Bradley would have said no. The pain of losing Adalia never went away. In fact, if grew with each passing day as he began pulling away from everyone who cared about him. He stopped talking, let the depression consume him. Six months of agonizing reminders that he would forever be alone drove him to the brink of madness. Bradley suffered in silence, ignoring those who reached out to him, intent on shouldering the burden of grief alone.
?You ok to close everything down tonight? I?ve got a date with Maeve and I want to take a shower before I head over to the Refuge.? Ethan smiled hesitantly, always feeling awkward when mentioning his significant other around his brother these days.
Bradley grunted and stoked the fire in the large, cast iron oven they used to heat the glass. When Ethan didn?t move from his spot in the hallway, he sighed and answered verbally. ?Yeah, I?m fine. The shop?s already closed, right??
?Yeah, I made Ryan lock up.?
?Then I?m perfectly capable of closing up back here. Besides, I want to get this piece finished tonight. Go on, don?t keep Maeve waiting.? He frowned and quickly turned his back to his brother. The resentment he felt towards Ethan couldn?t be helped, though he knew it was wrong. Bradley ignored Ethan?s goodbye and reached for the spoke he?d been working on.
He stood a little too close to the flame, allowing the heat to sear his bare chest as he slowly spun the spoke in the fire. He liked the pain; he felt almost nothing these days. Moments like this were nearly cherished, at least he felt something. When the glass was hot enough, he moved to his stool and work bench where he swiftly began molding the red-hot glob that would soon be turned into a plate. His pace quickened as the red cooled and faded, spinning the spoke feverishly while scalloping the edges with the metal clamp in his other hand. All thought was non-existent. The only form of conscious acknowledgement was to finish.
Two hours later he stood before a table where a complete, hand-made set of glassware was laid out. It was service for 8, and included a set of champagne flutes inscribed with the words ?Bride? and ?Groom?. Bradley felt a sense of satisfaction as he looked over his work. It had taken him 5 months to get everything finished. Shortly after Adalia died, this plan was set into motion. This would be his last gift to his brother and Maeve; it had needed to be finished now because when the time came for the two to be married, whenever that would be, he didn?t plan to be around.
After rummaging around in the office for a pad of paper and a pen, he scrawled out a short message explaining what the gift was and how he hoped they?d have a long life together. He went about the normal routine of closing down the burners and putting all their tools away for the night. He wiped down counters and swept the floor. When all the lights were out, instead of leaving through the garage door, Bradley stood silently in the middle of the room. He could hear the water heater come on in the back of the room and the low thrum of the freezer fans whirring. A decision had been made. His heart thundered loudly in his chest, muting the sound of his steps as he headed back toward the office. When he emerged again, he was holding a black and silver Smith and Wesson .45 in shaking hands.
Tonight it would end. The numbness would be gone, the pain over. He would finally have his wish and be with his family once more. Not that he didn?t love his brother, but Stephanie and Adalia had been his life. All he wanted now was to see them again, to be able to hold them in his arms. Every sensation seemed amplified. The sound of blood rushing in his ears was deafening, each step an electric shock as his feet touched the floor. When he knelt in the middle of the garage, his knees screamed in pain and his entire body tensed. His mouth went dry as he struggled to hear the gun cocking through the roaring noise already filling his head.
?Goodbye,? he whispered into the darkness before pressing his lips around the barrel and pulling the trigger. For the briefest of moments, the explosion of sound burst past the deafness he?d experienced earlier and then everything was quiet. Darkness overtook him before the gun fell to the floor.
If he?d been asked that morning if he knew that by the end of the night he?d be dead, Bradley would have said no. The pain of losing Adalia never went away. In fact, if grew with each passing day as he began pulling away from everyone who cared about him. He stopped talking, let the depression consume him. Six months of agonizing reminders that he would forever be alone drove him to the brink of madness. Bradley suffered in silence, ignoring those who reached out to him, intent on shouldering the burden of grief alone.
?You ok to close everything down tonight? I?ve got a date with Maeve and I want to take a shower before I head over to the Refuge.? Ethan smiled hesitantly, always feeling awkward when mentioning his significant other around his brother these days.
Bradley grunted and stoked the fire in the large, cast iron oven they used to heat the glass. When Ethan didn?t move from his spot in the hallway, he sighed and answered verbally. ?Yeah, I?m fine. The shop?s already closed, right??
?Yeah, I made Ryan lock up.?
?Then I?m perfectly capable of closing up back here. Besides, I want to get this piece finished tonight. Go on, don?t keep Maeve waiting.? He frowned and quickly turned his back to his brother. The resentment he felt towards Ethan couldn?t be helped, though he knew it was wrong. Bradley ignored Ethan?s goodbye and reached for the spoke he?d been working on.
He stood a little too close to the flame, allowing the heat to sear his bare chest as he slowly spun the spoke in the fire. He liked the pain; he felt almost nothing these days. Moments like this were nearly cherished, at least he felt something. When the glass was hot enough, he moved to his stool and work bench where he swiftly began molding the red-hot glob that would soon be turned into a plate. His pace quickened as the red cooled and faded, spinning the spoke feverishly while scalloping the edges with the metal clamp in his other hand. All thought was non-existent. The only form of conscious acknowledgement was to finish.
Two hours later he stood before a table where a complete, hand-made set of glassware was laid out. It was service for 8, and included a set of champagne flutes inscribed with the words ?Bride? and ?Groom?. Bradley felt a sense of satisfaction as he looked over his work. It had taken him 5 months to get everything finished. Shortly after Adalia died, this plan was set into motion. This would be his last gift to his brother and Maeve; it had needed to be finished now because when the time came for the two to be married, whenever that would be, he didn?t plan to be around.
After rummaging around in the office for a pad of paper and a pen, he scrawled out a short message explaining what the gift was and how he hoped they?d have a long life together. He went about the normal routine of closing down the burners and putting all their tools away for the night. He wiped down counters and swept the floor. When all the lights were out, instead of leaving through the garage door, Bradley stood silently in the middle of the room. He could hear the water heater come on in the back of the room and the low thrum of the freezer fans whirring. A decision had been made. His heart thundered loudly in his chest, muting the sound of his steps as he headed back toward the office. When he emerged again, he was holding a black and silver Smith and Wesson .45 in shaking hands.
Tonight it would end. The numbness would be gone, the pain over. He would finally have his wish and be with his family once more. Not that he didn?t love his brother, but Stephanie and Adalia had been his life. All he wanted now was to see them again, to be able to hold them in his arms. Every sensation seemed amplified. The sound of blood rushing in his ears was deafening, each step an electric shock as his feet touched the floor. When he knelt in the middle of the garage, his knees screamed in pain and his entire body tensed. His mouth went dry as he struggled to hear the gun cocking through the roaring noise already filling his head.
?Goodbye,? he whispered into the darkness before pressing his lips around the barrel and pulling the trigger. For the briefest of moments, the explosion of sound burst past the deafness he?d experienced earlier and then everything was quiet. Darkness overtook him before the gun fell to the floor.