Appeal to freedom

“Available…what’s that mean, available?”

Bright struggles to remain composed under the scrutinizing glare and echo of his sisters yelling. “Look Julie, just calm down alright. I said I would be there and I will be.”

“You god dam better Brighty,” she spouts condescendingly. “I swear to god, if you flake on me, were through.”
Piercingly Julie stares at him through the mirror that reflects her in full gown and veil. Bright notices the fierce eyes of vulnerability raining down on him and gets up from his sisters bed to escape her reflection.

“So you mean if I don’t show up to your wedding you’ll never talk to me again?” Of course Bright has already bought his suit and has complete intentions to be there on her special day in April, but finds it funny to torment his sibling. “Jules, I don’t know if that’s an opportunity I can turn down.”

“Shut up stupid,” jokes Julie immaturely. “You always have to be such a bum, don’t you Brighty? Everyone’s favorite son, Brightly flighty, there when the goings good, but lights out when its not.”

“Still jealous I see, eh Jules?” asks her big brother.

“O yeah, of what Bright,” responds his sister. “You’re like a friggin jack in a box. For most of the time you’re locked away in this lonely little cage, and then when someone finally gets you out, you scare the shit out of them. You make them put you back.”

“Just admit it Jules,” he says tranquilly. “You are jealous of me.”

For a few minutes they are silent. Staring into the mirror, Julie retreats to that place inside her where marriage is the fountain of the world and she is getting to drink herself full. Bright marches to that place inside him where marriage is the chemotherapy of the world, and his sister is balding and vomiting bile.

“I wish mom could be here,” speaks Julie finally. Except its Julie who doesn’t miss their mother. It’s Julie who secretly was relieved when their mother passed away.

“So do I Jules,” Bright harmonizes. “But I really wish your friend Natalie could be here,” Bright says only slightly joking.

“Please,” Julie says snappily. “As if any of MY friends would sink so low as to spend a night with your sorry ass.” Many of which already have without her knowledge, a fact that Bright and each girl felt necessary to hide from her. “What kind of people do you think I associate with anyway Bright? My friends would see your skanky ass coming like miles away.”

“Well Jules,” he says. “I’d still like to have the opportunity to be turned down. And especially from Natalie, she can turn me down anytime.”

“And I’m sure she would,” says Julie.

Then the lights flicker, and both Julie and Bright look around assessing what has happened. They flicker again and then cut out completely.

“Great,” says Julie, “just what we needed. Hey, where are you…oh there you are. Look, there’s some candles in drawer, can you go get them?”

“You have a light?” Bright asks her.

He touches her hand as he asks the question. Then carefully he steps slowly to the oak drawer and pulls the candles. They are held exactly where he guessed they would be, exactly where his mother would have kept them. They are in their mother’s room now. And it has been left in the state their mother left it when she fled four years ago.

“I missed you Julie,” he says. “You know, all this time I was gone, all those years I haven’t been around. The only thing I regret is, not knowing you, not knowing my sister.”

Bright is handed the lighter from his sister. Her hands are soft and delicate like so many women hands have felt inside his. But these are foreign, foreign when so many nameless lovers’ hands are remembered and familiar. He stares through the dark, waits until she becomes visible. They are seated on the stiff bed.

“I know you do Bright,” she says consoling her sibling. “I missed you too, we all missed you.”
Julie was caught off guard by her brother’s sensitivity. He had always seemed the strong one, the rebel, the free spirit. She had always been a little jealous of his freedom. She had called it disappointment, called it resentment, resenting his lack of commitment to his family and friends. Resenting the way he never put down roots. But she knew it had always been jealousy.
Julie could never truly feel the courage to disappear, though she had wanted too many times before. She could never break away from the normality of tradition, from the pull of organized life.
She felt a slight triumph hit her for a moment. Then she felt guilty for it.

“There we go,” Bright says softly as he ignites the final candle, “four for light and one for show.”

“God you’re such a moron sometimes Brighty,” Julie jokes. They laugh together for a moment. Not a comic laughter, but a smile that reaches down to their hearts. Then Bright walks to the window and stares out. Julie waits seated on the bed staring into the last candle, the showy one.
He puts his tight body down on the king size bed propping his head up on a pillow. Julie has her back to him watching the flames. She is staring at the air between the wick and the tip of the flame. He lights a cigarette.

“So,” she says facing him by twisting her back. “Are you staying this time? I mean after the wedding?”

“I don’t know Julie,” is his response. “There isn’t much left for me here. Now that you’ll be gone and mom and dad, and I never really had friends here, I just don’t think I can handle it. I’m too used to setting sail, you know. It’s in my blood.”

“I know Bright,” Julie answers. And for the first time in her life she does know. It was in his blood, and not in hers. It had always been in his blood, and that’s why it was so easy for him. But it hadn’t ever really been in her blood. For her it would have just been running away. And suddenly she felt relieved; she felt the weight of self condemnation expire. She wasn’t afraid to break away, she wasn’t mean to go. Her wings were clipped. “I think you should just do what makes you happy, brother. But remember, you’ll always have a home with me, I will always miss you.”

“Thanks Jules,” he says. “I’ll always miss you to.”

The lights flicker once, and then power is restored.