Murphy

In a fit of anger I tore the posters down that Conn left on his "side" o' the room. 3 months, it's only been 3 months wit'out him. I cain't lay in my bed wit'out the posters and his bed starin' at me, mocking me. I ripped them off an' tossed them about the room. Then I pulled the bed from the frame and wailed on it, yelling at it.

"Murphy! Murphy, enough, Murphy," Ma's voice didn't register, not at first. Not until she wrapped her arms around me from behind. I stopped movin', stock still and let the tears that welled up as the anger faded away, fall.

"'M lost wit'out him, Ma." I choked out.

"Aye, I know." She said. "It won' be forever, Murphy."

Maybe it won' be forever, but it will feel like it. Who's to say me an' Connor will be okay when we're reunited again? We might not be best friends anymore, probably not the lovers we were. What if we're hardly brothers when we're together again? Blood flowin' through our veins bein' the only thing we have left in the future?


A week after my tantrum against Conn's belongin's I went home after school and up ta our room ta put away my things an' change into my street clothes. I stopped wit' the door half open and my eyes wide in shock. I dropped me book bag on the floor an' took in the room. The mattress an' frame is no longer in me room. In fact, Connor's desk an' dresser are both gone. All his posters o' movies an' the such that I didn' tear down are gone now. My bed got moved over to the center of the room an' the walls got painted a pale blue instead o' the white they were. All traces o' us sharin' a room for fifteen an' a half years gone, erased. Like Conn never existed in this room wit' me.

"Yer Uncle Sybil painted da room an' moved yer brot'er's stuff ta the storage shed in de bar." Ma spoke from behind me. I nodded slowly before turnin' ta look at her. "I figured this may be better'n havin' the constant reminder o' him."

Me heart broke an' swelled at the gesture from Ma. It's somethin' I've thought 'bout often- It would be better wit'out Connor's belongin's sittin' around, mockin' me. I wouldn't have taken them out, though. I don' have the heart. I thanked Ma fer this by huggin' her.


"'Ey, Conn'." I mumbled when me brother picked up the phone. Cause o' how much it costs to make calls back an' forth we can only talk once or twice a week at the most.

"Good ta hear yer voice, brot'er."

"Aye, yers too."

"Tell me 'bout yer week?" Conn asked.

"It was 'bout the same as it's always been. Da boys 'round the school try an' fuck wit' me, but I don' fall fer their bait. I ain't got my back up like I once did. If I need ta I fight 'em I do, but I avoid it. A couple o' yer ole friends have helped me out inna fight or two. I been spendin' time at Uncle Sybil's, helpin' wit' the bar an' the such."

"Don' let them get da jump on ya, Murph. Keep yer eyes peeled. 'Fore long they'll leave ya be. They jus' gotta show ya who's da boss now dat I'm not there wit' ya. They think ya aren't a formidable foe jus' cause there isn' two o' us."

"I know, Conn. It isn't as bad as it was when ya first left. The only time they ever saw us apart was when one o' us stayed home sicker than a dog, an' even then it was rare fer us not ta bot' stay home."

"Before ya know it I'll be by yer side, fightin' the battles wit' ya."

"Aye," I didn't argue wit' him, didn' remind him that we have two years until we're eighteen an' can do anythin' about bein' apart, even if things continued to be okay wit' us.

"Doc's been payin' me ta work in his bar, Murph. Ya wouldn't believe how easy it is ta swipe beer fer Roc' an' meself. I t'ink Doc knows I swipe beers here an' there, but he doesn't say a word 'bout it."

Roc. That name's been poppin' up in our conversations more often than not, now a days. He's found a friend there, he's makin' America his home. Not here, wit' me. "That's good, Conn."

"How's Ma?"

"She's Ma. Ain't not'in wrong that a bottle o' booze can't fix, don't'cha know?"

Conn's laugh sent shivers through my spine. "Truth there, brot'er. Oi, I gotta get off da phone. I love ya, brot'er mine. I'll talk ta ya in a few days. Ya got a letter in the mail fer ya too."

"Love ya, Conn."

He ended the call with a click. Chances are he's off ta spend time wit' his new best friend, Rocco.


My Dearest Murphy,

It feels like it's been years since I've seen you, last. I miss you more than words could even describe, brother. I know you know how much it hurts to be apart. You feel my pain as clearly as I feel yours. The joy of our bond, eh?

I made a friend, Murph. I mentioned him to you on the phone awhile back. Rocco. He's Italian and a hell of a guy. We swipe beer from Doc's every now and then, like you and me used to from Uncle Sybil's. It's easier to swipe beer from Doc's, since I work here. I pay Doc back every time we take beer. I pay him back from the money he gives me for working for him.

He's the only friend I got here.

Soon, dear heart, soon, we'll be back together again. A whole and not halves.

Forever yours,

Conn


Dear Murph,

I never got your last letter in response to the last one I sent. It must have gotten lost somewhere between Ireland and Boston. I imagine that isn't hard, losing a letter over such a distance, right?

Rocco has managed to get me into a few scrapes, but he's also gotten me out of a few, too. If it weren't for him I'd probably have a broken bone or three, at this point. He's always watching my back.

He never got my last letter because I never sent him one. I started writing him a letter a dozen times in response. An' I couldn' ever make it more than a few lines in wit' out tearing it up and throwin' the scraps away.

Dear Conn,

This Rocco must be good for you, I guess. I'm glad you have someone.

That's all I can write before tearin' it up an' throwin' it away. I hate this Rocco he's spending so much time with, that is all me brother talks about. I feel like I've been replaced.

How couldn' I feel like that? He's off stealin' beer wit' him an' spendin' all his time wit' this guy, takin' my place in every way.


Our sixteenth birthday came an' went, as if it were jus' another day on the calendar. I saved up money from workin' at Uncle Sybil's an' odd jobs fer people Ma know's an' bought Conn a gift and sent it ta him. I shipped it off a bit before our birthday so I knew he'd get it.

I bought a replica sword from one o' Conn's favorite movies an' had it shipped to him. He always stared at it when we went ta the shop in town. I had always wanted ta get it fer him.

Ma an' Uncle Sybil made a cake fer me birthday an' tried to cheer me up, both know how much I miss Conn. Uncle Sybil doesn' know why Conn was sent away or anyt'ing, but he knows that Conn an' I were always close. I called Conn the first chance I got on our birthday. It left me in tears.

"Happy birthday, Murph,"

"You too, Conn," I smiled into the phone.

"I can' stay on da phone long, brot'er."

I felt disappointment wash through me, "Oh, okay,"

He was off to hang out wit' his buddy, Rocco. Again. Never mind it's our birthday.

We hung up a few moments later, I couldn't think o' a single thing to say after hearin' he was off to spend time wit' his best friend to try an' keep him on the phone longer. He wasn' payin' attention anyhow.

I hung up the phone an' went up ta my room and pried one o' the floorboards up. We pried one o' the boards an' made a hidin' spot when we were nine or ten. We hid pictures of ourselves, the ones others can't ever find, the ones o' us kissin' an' bein' more than regular twins, in the spot. There's only a few pictures o' us like that. We never wanted ta risk havin' too many an' someone findin' them. But we wanted a few, so that we had proof o' our love as more than jus' our hearts.

All my fears are comin' true. I looked at each one o' the pictures an' laid them out in front o' me on the floor and stared at them. Why should I keep the photos o' a love that isn't lastin'? It's barely survived six months of bein' apart an' every way I turn, he's replacin' me wit' someone else.

I picked the first picture, a polaroid o' me an' him kissin' an' tore it down the middle, right through our touchin' lips an' tossed the two halves in a pile. I tore the rest o' the pictures in half too an' tossed them in the pile, a few silent tears fallin' as I did it.