“Do you remember the mud pit?” Jaxon asked.
Connor knew his mother’s need for coffee was an excuse to avoid the room. He felt the discomfort too. The boy sprawled under the sheets wasn’t the same, haunted and changed by the years of abuse. Their conversation was halting as they struggled for things to talk about, throwing out old stories to rebuild the feelings, but everything felt forced and foreign. At everything Connor said, Jaxon just shook his head and said he couldn’t remember. Connor doubted they could ever reconnect the bonds that had been broken a decade earlier.
He wanted to remember the mud pit, whatever it was, because it was the first time Jaxon had brought up something himself. Connor scrunched up his face as if that would force the memory to surface. “Mud pit?”
Jaxon’s face fell, the hopefulness that had popped up dissipating quickly. “Yeah, it was one of the stories we told a lot. Makes me laugh, thinking about it.”
“Well, tell me. Maybe I’ll remember.”
With a grunt, Jaxon sat up in the bed and crossed his legs. He rested his hands on his knees, closed his eyes, and began. “It was a hot summer day, a perfect day to go swimming, except we couldn’t go to the park without Dad. We weren’t allowed to leave the yard without an adult, so we were stuck at home, in the backyard, sweat dripping down our bodies, complaining like we loved to do. With a snap of his fingers, Connor stood up and exclaimed, ‘I’ve got an idea. Let’s dig our own pool.’”
Jaxon opened his eyes and looked at Connor, a reddish tint of embarrassment crawling up his face. “Sorry. I meant you. You stood up. I’m so used to telling it as a story.”
Connor shook with surprise at hearing his name in the midst of the story. It felt as though he had been listening to a campfire story told about someone else more than a conversation. Still, the memory had come crashing back to him, and he didn’t want to lose the moment. “I remember it. It was hot as hell, and we wanted to go swimming. Dad was supposed to take us over to the community pool at the park, but he didn’t show up. Big surprise. He never showed up when he was supposed to. I wanted to ride our bikes over there anyway, but you had this brilliant idea we could make a pool in our backyard just like rich people do.”
Jaxon sputtered in protest. “I thought it was all your idea.”
The older boy grinned and chuckled. “Oh, no, you went running into the storage closet and came out carrying Dad’s shovel. It was like twice as big as you were, and when you stabbed it in the ground, the handle hit you on the head. But you were like, ‘We’re gonna build our own pool!’ and kept digging.”
“Funny. I thought you did all the digging.”
“Oh, I did, because you weren’t making much of a hole, and I took over. I guess I thought it would work, or maybe I thought it would be fun to try, because I grabbed the shovel and started tearing up the dirt. And Duke helped… You remember Duke, don’t ya? That dog was awesome.”
Connor laughed louder as Jaxon’s eyes grew big. The memory of the day kept flooding into his brain. “Anyway, we only got a few inches dug ’cause we kept hitting rocks and had to stop and pull them out of the ground. We got tired and hot ’cause it was really hard work, so I began to think it wasn’t such a great idea after all, but we did have enough for a wading pool.”
“That’s when you decided to roll out the hose and fill it with water.”
“Me?” Connor protested. “It was definitely you who grabbed the hose.”
“Whatever.” Jaxon waved his hands in dismissal. “Most of the water didn’t go in the hole because it turned into a massive water fight in the backyard. Water dripping off the windows and the house and everything.”
Connor howled with laughter at the memory as Jaxon’s smile expanded into a full grin, exposing the gaps from missing teeth. Making his brother laugh felt good, and Connor didn’t want to lose the feeling, so he continued, “And the mud. It’s not like we had much grass, anyway—never did—and we had this hole in the middle of the yard and the dirt we’d pulled out. Everything turned to this clingy, yucky mud that stuck to everything. The house. The dog. Each other. Duke was racing around, shaking his fur and splattering the side of the house. And that’s when we started ‘rassling’ like they do on TV, taking big flying leaps through the air and landing in that big ol’ muddy hole with a splat.”
“Mud caked in ears. Dripping out of hair. Even down pants and into underwear.”
“Oh, yeah, and Duke was as muddy as we were. I swear he wagged his tail, and mud flew everywhere. And then we got into trouble.”
Jaxon snickered. “Mom came home.”
“We heard the car door slam, and she came around the corner of the house. The look on her face. She was so mad at us…”
“But you could also tell she was trying really hard not to laugh.”
“Exactly! She called us swamp monsters.” Connor snapped his fingers and exclaimed, “No, it was her lizard men! You know, like that legend down in South Carolina. The lizard man of the swamp or something like that. And she called Duke lizard dog because you couldn’t even see his fur anymore.”
Jaxon clasped his hands and smiled broader. “Bath time for my lizard men!”
“Except she made us take off all our clothes out in the yard.” Connor hooted and rocked in his chair. “She was more worried about getting mud everywhere than the neighbors seeing us naked. She warned us not to touch anything until we were in the bathtub. And she made Duke stay outside. He was howling his head off ’cause she wouldn’t let him come in.”
“Except… you snuck out and let him in.”
Connor wiped a hand across his eyes, tears of laughter rather than sadness over lost time. “Oh, yeah, I had forgotten that too. And that time it was me, for sure. He was so excited to be back with us he ran through the house, leaving muddy paw prints everywhere. Then he jumped up on my bed, twisting around in celebration, getting mud all over my bed.”
“And on the walls!”
“Oh, yeah. Mom was so mad, and I got in so much trouble all over again. I tried to tell her you let Duke in, but she didn’t believe me.”
“A mud-pit swimming pool. That was so cool.”
“That whole day was so cool. Getting in trouble and all.” Connor balled his hand up in a fist and stuck it out toward his little brother, but Jaxon flinched and shrank back into his pillow. His face went white, and he pulled the sheet up to his chin and quivered. His reaction horrified Connor, and the laughter inside him faded, replaced by a revulsion toward whoever had changed his brother so much. He looked at his outstretched fist and exclaimed, “Oh God, no, Jax. I wouldn’t hit you, dude. Never.”
Jaxon raised a single finger from his hands holding the sheet and pointed at Connor’s fist. “But…”
“A fist bump. That’s all it is.”
The boy raised an eyebrow. “Fist bump?”
“You don’t remember. We used to do it all the time.” He had to remember how much his little brother had forgotten. He lowered his arm and loosened his fist. “It’s a way of celebrating. Kinda like a handshake but cooler.”
“But how…”
“Look, Jax, it’s easy. Just ball your hand up like this.” Connor tightened his fingers. “Now, reach out and tap your knuckles to mine.”
Jaxon relaxed his grip on the sheet and slowly sat back up in bed. He looked down at his hand and curled his fingers. With a sheepish glance for approval from his brother, he reached out slowly until their knuckles touched. “Fist bump,” he whispered.
“Fist bump.” Connor rested his fingers against the bony fingers across from him. He could feel the nervous shake coming through the light touch. “We used to do it every night before going to bed and anytime we got into trouble together. It was just our thing.”
Jaxon hung his head. “I’m sorry. There’s lots I don’t remember.”
“Don’t be sorry, bro. I’d forgotten the mud pit.” Connor wrapped his hand around his little brother’s fist. “We’ll remember it all together. I promise.”