The Weight of Him

Beyond the two-story house, fields rolled out in every direction, a bumpy, rich green carpet edged in a maze of thick dark hedges. Dull lanes dotted with more homes also surrounded the property. Scattered everywhere, crawling briars and bands of mature oaks and sycamores. In the fields, grass waved on the breeze and several rabbits also dotted the landscape. The smell of wild woodbine, even this early in the day, filled the van. It seemed impossible, the horror that had happened here.

Billy pulled his attention back to the house, unable to stop himself from wondering where the brother and sister had done it and who had found them. The house stood tall and wide, finished in gray stone and topped with a coal-black roof. Five large windows in front stared back. The tarmac driveway bisected a large garden, one side planted with colorful flowers amid a granite rockery, and on the other side a lush green lawn with an ornamental stone wishing well. Two large flower baskets bursting with lavender and pink dahlias hung at either side of the white front door. The entire property looked as though its owners were putting everything they could into keeping as much as possible alive.

The net curtain moved in one of the bottom windows. Billy saw a flash of a woman’s face before the curtain dropped.

Denis rubbed his hand over the top of his head. “Are we really going to do this?”

“You’re sure they agreed to this?” Billy asked.

“I told you, I talked to the father myself,” Adam said. “He understands the concept of the greater good. Now, let’s get started. Take One.” He clapped one hand on top of the other, channeling a director’s board, and hopped out of the van. Billy struggled out after him. Denis remained in the middle of the bench seat, both doors of the van open like white wings.

Billy followed Adam around the back of the vehicle. Adam pulled open the rear doors and grabbed at the camera equipment.

“Let’s introduce ourselves first, before we drag all this inside,” Billy said.

“Yeah, we can show that much manners, at least,” Denis said.

“He always such a charmer?” Adam asked.

The door to the house opened and a man with graying brown hair appeared on the top step, his shoulders hunched, a lit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Halloran,” Adam called out. He moved toward the house, camera in hand. Billy followed, his legs weak.





Twenty-seven

Mr. Halloran looked at Billy on his doorstep, seeming stunned. He pulled the cigarette from his thin lips, its cylinder mostly ashes. “You were the fellow on Matters with Maeve?”

“That’s right,” Billy said. “There are no words, but I want to at least try to say how very sorry I am, such an unthinkable loss for you and your family.”

Mr. Halloran couldn’t hold Billy’s gaze. He nodded, indicating Denis still sitting in the van. “Who’s he?”

“That’s Denis,” Billy said. “He’s a dear friend, lost his father in the same way, and I’m sure Adam here told you about his nephew—”

Mr. Halloran eyed Adam’s camera as if it were a wild animal. “Where are you going with that? What do you think you’re doing?”

Billy, confused, alarmed, said, “I understood you invited us here today? That you wanted to take part in our documentary?”

Mr. Halloran shook his head. “I said we’d think about it, but not now, so soon.” The surviving son, a young man of maybe twenty, appeared behind his father.

Adam addressed Mr. Halloran, speaking fast. “Our documentary will save lives, don’t you want to be a part of that?”

The blood drained from Mr. Halloran’s face. “I can’t.”

Billy pushed on Adam’s shoulder, appalled. “Come on, let’s leave these good people be.”

“Wait.” Mr. Halloran glanced back at his son, the young man frowning now with a mix of anger and confusion, and pulled open the door. “You’ll take a cup of tea at least.”

“Don’t let them in!” the son said.

A stout, middle-aged woman with plum-dyed hair walked up the hall, her fingers at her chest and her hand a dappled red and white, as if marbleized. “What is it? What’s going on?”

“It’s the fellow from the TV, on Matters with Maeve,” Mr. Halloran said.

“Oh, hello,” she said, looking bewildered.

The son’s eyes raked Billy. “At least you’re not wearing that army uniform.”

“I’m sorry,” Billy said, addressing Mrs. Halloran. “We didn’t mean to barge in. There’s been a misunderstanding. We thought you were expecting us.”

“Expecting you?” she said.

Mr. Halloran flapped his arm in Adam’s direction. “I talked to this fellow on the phone a couple of times, said I’d think about taking part in this film they’re making, to … to help to save lives, but I never told them they could come here.”

“No, no,” Mrs. Halloran said, her hand still clasped to her chest. “We couldn’t.”

The son moved toward Billy and Adam. “Have you no respect—”

“We’ll go,” Billy said.

“I offered them tea,” Mr. Halloran said. “They’ve had a long drive.”

“Yes, okay, all right then,” Mrs. Halloran said.

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