The smile of a newly reached plateau between them was interrupted. Truth be told, he himself was nervous. For the first time in a long, long time.. He was nervous. He?d gone tooth and nail with raging bulls, fallen off rooftops, and gotten deep gashes from fence wire to his very bone.

None of that fazed him in the slightest.

All of that pain and labor was just another day in the life of a laborer. A nameless strong back to do what most didn?t or couldn?t do. Yet this woman, this creature, had him more nervous than the greenest horn of green horns.

That question was a fragile one for him to answer. Even with the many years between the subject in question. She made him feel like he was 10 years old again, plunged into a mad world of cruelties and naked to the ill intentions of those who preyed on the vulnerable.

He felt raw with her, blank, and not filled with burn marks and a ghost?s skid marks in the shape of train tracks.

Even still, with that naked vulnerability on a clean sleeve, he couldn?t deny her. Not for one moment. And even though he hesitated with several jagged pauses, they had a walk to buffer that silence. Their footsteps were the rhythm that kept words far away for a small time.

He had lead her through the dank streets, along the garish trail that went from asphalt to dirt and then back to deadened grass trails. His work was far from the deadly streets of the city. His work was on God?s green elbows and backbone. Where the crops were grown. Where the meat was raised, fed, and herded. He worked where few did. His associates were either fence posts, animals, or the sun. Most of the time, it was a combination.

Finally, as they approached his modest cabin, he came to answer her. It was small, like an efficiency, but with an archaic form of furnishings that gave it a timeless charm. Upon opening the door for her, he entered ahead of her to ignite the small dark room. Kerosene lamps by the door and beside the cot he had. The room became even smaller than the dark gave it credit for. The cot was the vastest object in the room.

The stove had two spirals, making it rectangular. No oven. A counter top had a faucet-like contraption, along with a nearby pump to extract water.

There were cupboards above, that had plates, mugs. Sets of two of each, nothing more. One for the now, and another in its stead while the former was washed. A window was by the faucet, for both the pump and the view.

The window was East, where the Sun rose. It was the best view at dawn.

He would sometimes sleep in to sunrise, and wake up to the ascent of the golden halo that watched him. Deep down, religion was a huge part of his life. An inactive part of his life, but huge nonetheless.

It was of wooden walls, with porcelain finishes and sturdy, albeit less decorative, contraptions. A single chair was in the corner of the room, diagonal from the fireplace in the other corner. It was small, but did the job. His high quality of labor and the clientele he secured kept him cozy, but basically furnished. It?s what he loved about his career choice.

The small cabin was lit, and the small table toward the center of the cabin was offered for a seat while he arranged the bedding properly. He had offered her a place to sleep, and that?s exactly what he would deliver.

The ending of the night was ignored. His mind was far too respectful, far too shy to assume the optimal result. He prepared for the worst, and hoped for the best.

Worst was that he slept on that thick loveseat of a chair, best was with a warm body to hold to himself. He would let her decide when the time came. He was brought up a street panhandler, and somehow grew into a man of character, chivalry, and humility. He thanked two things for that.

?Do you.. really want to know?? It was the push he would need. Yet, his cowardice was spotted like a deer in highlights. He kicked himself into answering her. A simple answer. He wouldn?t play games with her. It was too hard.

He heaved a sigh, the deadbolt being turned to make a bulky click. It was just for good measure. They were in the middle of nowhere, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Especially with precious cargo at stake.

?I wasn?t always a solo act. For most of my life, in fact, I was never on my own. Not once, even through all the rough times.? He came with a bundle of fresh sheets to lie on the cot. It was reinforced with cushions underneath the thin mattress. The man had back pains, and facilitated for such. To any without the aches and pains he suffered, it would seem luxuriously plush. Once the bed was made, he continued.

?I was close to being alone. The facts said I was on my own,? He sat on the newly made bed, already feeling that nagging pain in his back after another day of hundreds of pounds hauled with it. ?I had a brother, Rona.?

He saw the surprise in her eyes. A little flicker, like seeing a shooting star. Without the pure wonder, of course.

Few know this. Then again, few knew him in Rhy?Din. When he worked his days as the only human population for acres, it was hard to know many folks beside his employers. It was a tender secret to him. Like a fragile spirit under a glass dome that was soaked with goodness.

Somehow, he got comfort when he compared his brother to the sun. That smile of his could give the sun lessons on being bright.

In all his dreams, in his memories, the sun seemed to always be behind him. Like he was part of the sunrise. For years, it was hard enough to get on without his brother being the first thing he saw.

Silently, he hated himself for sleeping so much. All those times asleep could have been extra moments with what would be lost.

He may not have known the future, but he hated himself for taking what was so dear so granted to him. One who lived so long with so little would be more grateful, one would think.

That was why he was one to worship what he had.. He realized he never knew how long he would have such blessings for. And with a blessing looking him in the eye for him to say more, he felt like he could cry.

He wouldn?t, men didn?t cry. But he?d tell her. He?d give her a secret.

Lifting the glass, and opening the spiritual vault was a dangerous thing. But he?d already given her the combination to those precious insides. And he didn?t want it back.

?He was my big brother. Since I can remember, he was there. I mean, I didn?t think I could remember much. But.. when-? Pain crunched at his brows, making his eyes close tightly. The thought itself hurt him. Like dread mixed with a wince. ?I remembered so much clear as day.

Things I didn?t remember before, I remembered after. I collected as much as I could remember and memorized them.? He sighed.
There were no picture frames in his small cottage like efficiency. It was painfully noticeable now that he talked of someone so much a part of him.

?We didn?t have fancy cameras as kids.. Didn?t have much at all, come to think about it. But we didn?t miss what we didn?t really know in the first place. I.. I don?t even have a picture of him..?

That hurt the most. He had nothing for his wallet. Nothing to place next to his cot. Nothing.

?I was too young to know how bad things were, but he knew that I shouldn?t ever know and took us on the run. Trains, street cars, anything that was waterproof was propped over us and was home. Sometimes, I would wake up to him sitting there, looking out. I barely ever got to saw him sleep.. I always used to wonder why he never slept when I did.? He was looking down at her, but not at her. He was recollecting. Reminiscing.

?When I was old enough, I realized it. He never slept so he could keep watch. So he could make sure I was alright. He was.. like my own guardian angel. He was mom, dad, and my big brother. He was so many things. And? most of all, he was always smiling. Always laughing whenever anything was worth a laugh. Looking back, looking at all he did for me and us.. I don?t know how he made it. But he did it all. And smiled all the time..?

And that?s when he let his head fall into his hands. The older he got, the more he realized what his brother had really done for him. The more he thought about it, the more sacrifices he caught. He was so na?ve when they were young, and never knew just what he was doing for them both.

But now that he was a man, he knew. And he never really thanked him. Or got to make it up to him.

That alone made any of those aches and pains seems trivial. He wouldn?t dare ever to complain. Not when his brother had done a million and one things for him, and smiled through it all. He wouldn?t dare consider himself hurting when his brother endured that and more with half his years.

It was a curse. All his too littles, too lates adding up to fester and rot in his heart. His brother was everything to him.

?He.. his name was Wess. Jimmy Wess Farley.?