Among the Dead by Michael Tolkin Page A

feel more.’
    â€˜Have you cried?’
    â€˜Not really.’
    â€˜If you want to cry, go ahead.’
    â€˜Thanks, Lowell. But if I don’t cry, don’t think I’m not unhappy.’
    â€˜Have you called Mom and Dad?’
    â€˜Not yet. I was hoping that you would make the call.’
    â€˜I thought about it, but I decided to wait. I wanted to see you first.’
    â€˜Do you want to call them now?’ Frank asked.
    â€˜You don’t want to speak to them, do you?’ Lowell, with this question, had just left the deaths and entered the arena of gossipabout their parents, which was, more than business, the real event that united them, and that had brought Lowell close to his now-dead sister-in-law. What he meant was: Frank would have to use whatever energy he had to keep his parents from falling apart and devouring him with their own drama.
    â€˜Tell them I can’t. Tell them I’m too broken up.’ Later he would recognize this as the moment when he began to create his grief for public consumption.
    â€˜They’ll want to speak to you.’
    â€˜Lowell, call them.’ He insisted, coldly, relieved for a moment of his grief, happy for the right to tell his brother what to do, and Lowell went to the phone.
    Lowell started to dial, then stopped. He took a breath and dialled again. ‘Mom, it’s Lowell.’
    She was used to Lowell calling, probably more often than Frank. Lowell said he was fine and then asked for his father. He asked so abruptly that when he said, ‘No, I’m fine,’ Frank could tell that his mother was wounded, she must have had something to say, and here he was, on the phone to talk business. Perhaps she had called him early in the day about something, and when she heard his voice, she thought he was returning the call. And where was Lowell’s courtesy, to ask something personal of her, ask after her health?
    Lowell covered the receiver with his hand and said to Frank, ‘She has to get him. I want to tell him and let him tell her.’
    Then their father came to the phone. Frank watched his brother give him an inappropriate wink. What did it mean? That everything was in control? ‘Hi, Dad. I’m fine. I don’t know how to say this ...’ He started to cry.
    Frank felt betrayed by his brother. The tears were real, but his brother was showing weakness. Why couldn’t he just say, calmly, that Anna and Madeleine were on a plane that crashed and they were dead? He wanted to take the phone from Lowell, but then he would have had to speak to his parents. He didn’t want to have to offer support to them; he wanted their support.
    Lowell tried once more to tell his father what had happened. More tears bubbled from him, and his face broke into a dozen shaking pieces. Frank walked over to him and put a hand on his back, which seemed to be what he needed, a touch.
    â€˜I’m sorry, Dad. There was a plane crash. Frank missed the plane, but Madeleine and Anna were killed. Yes, the crash in SanDiego. I’m with Frank now, in his hotel room. The airline is putting him up.’
    Frank took the phone. He wondered if Lowell would have cried had he not told him to tell his parents that he was too upset to talk. He had given his brother the burden of a lie, which ignored his brother’s right to grieve.
    â€˜Hi, Dad.’
    â€˜This is real?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜I don’t know how to tell your mother.’
    â€˜Could you try?’
    â€˜Let me call you back. What hotel?’
    â€˜The Sheraton. Room ten thirty-five.’
    â€˜Near the airport?’
    ÌµYes.’
    â€˜Do you want to stay here?’
    â€˜Not now. The airline is putting me up, there’s a lot of us here, people who had family on the plane.’
    â€˜She was so beautiful.’ Who did he mean, daughter or wife? Daughter.
    â€˜I know.’
    â€˜I’ll call you back.’
    Frank knew this would be hard