(Pants - Miu Miu)
Sitting in my back yard under the walnut tree sippin' granny's last Madeira. Humid air, sounds of the city far away. It's four in the morning. The nights are so quiet here in Hollywood. Damp and dark like the breath of a sleeping drunk.
I'm wearing my granny's 50's Vuitton dress.
Imagining how she sat in exactly the same spot back in the days. Only, her company was Frank Sinatra's brother and mine is a packet of Benson & Hedges and anxiety. Perhaps the difference is not that big.
Black is still missing and of course Aloysius is beside himself.
I'm workin' all evening on the speech 4 the funeral but can't keep HIM out of my head.
I was 10 when my brother died. For years my memories felt like fever dreams: faces, smells, sounds and places all mixed up.
I know I spent a lot of time in our back yard. Must have been like two years altogether, but I have no idea WHAT I did there.
Until one day HE appeared in front of me. By the yellow painted fence, smoking a Lucky Strike. He was a couple of years older than me, fourteen perhaps but 2 me he looked like 25.
"I've been watching you" he said.
"Uh-hu." I mumbled.
"You don't get out much."
"My brother" I said to make him shut up and leave me alone "died last year."
"Well" he answered "I'm sure if u just feel sorry enough 4 yourself he'll come back 2 you."
Then he threw the cigarette down and walked away, whistling.
I just stood there. Sun in my face, wind in my ears, heart throbbing.
That was the first time I saw Evan, but not the last.