Be not angry that you cannot make others as you wish them to be, since you cannot make yourself as you wish to be. ~Thomas A. Kempis
Behind our house there was a garden.
Behind our house there was a garden.
It was surrounded by a stone wall with pointed iron arrows lining the top that were always laden with thorny vines that curled and writhed among the arrows like some form of ancient barbed wire. Rosebushes, nestled tenderly in black, moist soil bordered the wall, tilting their faces toward the sky in content and their petals daily peeled like old skin and fell away until they crumpled and died, their heads hanging like the countenances of elderly women. It was just the ending of spring now so that the roses were in their prime, dancing in the cool breezes and waving their green, prickly hands like children.
In the center of the garden was a shallow pond where white and red speckled koi swam languidly among lotus blossoms and lily pads. Small frogs gathered there during the late spring and early summer, and at night the garden was aglow with the flickering lanterns of fireflies as they fluttered about the mimosa tree and the roses.
One that particular day, Shepherd was kneeling by the pond wearing dress slacks and a tidy, button down white shirt tucked into the slacks that were fastened about his waist by a black belt. His hair had been parted on one side, his bangs pinned back away from his face by a thin black bobby pin. A black tie was hanging over his chest, its tip barely forming ripples over the surface of the pond. He had rolled back his sleeves, his damp hands gathering a small, grey and brown speckled frog from one of the lily pads when I approached him from the house. I stopped when I reached him, my cerise tie bright against my white shirt and black jacket. He tilted up his head, smiling a little to me before lowering his eyes again to look down at the small amphibian crawling in his palms. “Its such a lovely day,” he breathed, lifting the frog toward his face as he moved one hand, cradling the tiny creature in one hand as the index finger of the other moved to stroke its bumpy skin.
“It’ll give you warts,” I muttered in disgust, my nose wrinkling at the thought of the slimy thing crawling across his smooth flesh. Shepherd did not look up at me, but he did lower the creature from in front of his face, keeping the frog by his chest.
“It won’t, Severin.” His gentle voice seemed pleading. “I think that you’re thinking of toads. Little frogs like this one won’t hurt me.”
“Why don’t you put it back anyway, its filthy.” I rolled my eyes, placing one of my slender hands into the pocket of my slacks, tapping my expensive shoe against the soft, emerald grass. “Besides you’re staining your pants wallowing on the ground like an animal.”
His hand lowered toward the pond, and he tenderly dipped the frog beneath the water, pulling his hand from the cool liquid as the amphibian slid away, pumping its thin back legs to propel itself through the sparkling water to one of the pads. “You’ve changed so much, Severin.”
I was startled by his quiet words, and, frowning, I eased my hands from my pockets and crossed my arms over my chest. “What? Because I don’t want to crawl about on the ground and toy with mindless animals as you do?”
“No,” He murmured, his eyes fixed on the large fish drifting through the water. “Its not that. You don’t have to be like me; I like it that we are different. I’ve never wanted you to be anything but yourself. I’ve simply noticed a change in you. You’re not as you used to be. Once we ran together and sat together by the fire reading stories until we fell asleep together on the rugs. We were once equals, you and I. Now it seems that you have become the master, and I simply a servant.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Shepherd.” My voice was low, almost threatening. My arms had fallen by my sides and I could feel my fists clenching and unclenching as anger rose in my chest. “I think you’re just sorry that I’m not a silent, complacent dog such as yourself.”
Shepherd’s lovely eyes narrowed and grew dark with an expression I had never before seen on my dear brother’s face. For the first time, I saw anger in his innocent eyes. He had every right to be angry with me; whenever the opportunity to cause him discomfort or pain, I jumped at it. I went out of my way to make his days miserable. He was my scapegoat, my plaything, and I was a bratty child that took no care of my toy. He was at the breaking point, and he seemed my mirror image as he stood before me, his fists trembling and clenched at his sides, his face shadowed and tainted by indignation.
“A dog you have made me!” His voice rose into a shout and tears began to run down his flushed cheeks. “I am your brother, and I would do anything to please you, but you have taken this and exploited me! I am blamed and stricken for your sins and dare not open my mouth against you. You, my brother, who should be my protector, you leave me there to suffer!”
Now Cain said to his brother Abel, “Let’s go out to the field.” And while they were in the field, Cain attacked his brother Abel and killed him.
“Your protector,” I repeated, spitting the words like venom as my hand curled into a tight fist. “I am not your keeper, Shepherd!” As the words left my lips, my fist sliced through the air and I took a step forward, sending my knuckles into Shepherd’s nose. Blood, sinful and red, stained my pallid skin and the front of our white shirts. He lost his balance and stumbled, dropping out of my sight for a moment before I lowered my narrowed eyes to watch his shoulders and head briefly dip beneath the water of the pond.
The koi jerked and leapt from the water in fluid curves, dropping back down with a soft splash beneath the churning, violently rippling water; the frogs and crickets scattered, and some of the lotus blooms and lily pads were washed onto the emerald shore about the pond as if driven like shells in a tide. Without thinking, I dropped to my knees, sitting down on my brother’s stomach as the back of his head struck the hard bottom of the pond. The water quickly became poisoned by thick, cerise fluid, but despite this, I thrust my hands to the elbow in the tainted water, my fingers closing about my brother’s throat.
And while they were in the field, Cain attacked his brother Abel and killed him.
My brother kicked and writhed, and his hands tore at the sleeves of my shirt and cut into my arms. More blood darkened his fingertips and sprinkled the ground like rain. The greedy earth took in the blood; the breeze against the leaves sounded like a dying breath.
And the Lord said, “What have you done? Listen! Your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground!”
The kicks began to grow slower then ceased altogether. Shepherd’s hands fell limply onto the grass, and a few bubbles rippled the bloody surface of the water before all was still. Trembling with fury, I pulled back my hands and rested all of my weight on my brother’s hips as I softly panted, looking down at Shepherd’s hair as it broke the surface. Next came his forehead, and I tumbled off of his body sideways, landing among the blood sprinkled grass.
Your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground…
I began to laugh softly as my twin’s face briefly rose to the surface; his innocent skin dyed red; his lashes firmly closed; his lips parted to partake of the blood as he sank down beneath the surface again.
And while they were in the field, Cain attacked his brother Abel and killed him.
Then the Lord said to Cain, “Where is your brother Abel?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “Am I my brother’s keeper?”
“No,” I laughed to myself, my blood drenched hands moving to bathe my face in the watery, cerise fluid. My laughter fell to soft, mischievous giggles. “His blood cries from the ground…”
