The Lowliest of Animals

A loud thud resounded off the brick buildings that rose menacingly over Main Street, followed by the echoes of wretched mumbling. A rat stopped its late-night search for food when it heard the sounds. It shook its head; the scene was all too familiar to the lowliest of animals.

Markus Quimbley lifted himself from the pavement and dusted off his long overcoat. “Bloody pavement… rising right in front of me… it should know better than that…” he complained. The complaint went unheard, save for a nearby owl already on the search for its next meal. The rat of a man before him caught his attention.

He waved a disgusted hand at the owl and continued to stagger down the sidewalk to the glowing lights of home. For the past year, Anne Worth had been leaving the outside lights on to assist Markus in navigating the steep concrete steps to the front door. The town pitied her more than they pitied the drunk; even though Markus was her brother, it seemed unimaginable the patience required to continuously look after him.

Before Markus could even get a decent grip on the door handle, it flung open before him.

Another thud echoed through the street.

“Home so early, Markus?”

Markus’s earnest blue eyes gazed up at the silhouette. “Where’s Annie?”

The man crinkled his nose. “Home early yet the stench remains.” He closed the door behind Markus and walked heavily to his chair next to the fire. “Annie’s already gone to bed.”

Markus staggered to his knees and crawled into the chair across from his brother-in-law. “Why do you hate me, Hugh?”

Without gazing up from the paper, Hugh quietly answered, “I don’t hate you. I hate my wife having to clean up your messes.” It was true. When Hugh had first married Anne, she mentioned her brother to him, but never that he was going to move into their home only a month after their honeymoon. She certainly never mentioned the stench that permanently lingered around him.

Tears formed in the corners of Markus’s eyes. “She cleans up…”

“Yes, you git.” Hugh folded his paper back so he could penetrate the innocent, watering eyes with his own cold steel. “Do you honestly believe that you could survive in this world without your sister constantly making sure you don’t stumble and break your neck?” He wondered how Markus survived before moving in with Anne; he wondered this every night when the smell of liquor hit his nostrils, but he never questioned Anne. Maybe now he should.

Markus blubbered like a child. “Does Annie hate me?”

Hugh rubbed his hand over his chin in consideration; the tiny stubbles of a five o’clock shadow pricked his fingers. His hand recoiled instinctively. “Yes.”

The drunk fell forward out of his chair. “Why? Why would she? Why?” he cried out.

“Bloody hell!” Hugh roared, shooting out of his chair. The newspaper floated out of his hand and into the fire. It cackled and hissed as Hugh yelled at Markus. “You do nothing but go to bars and then come home, expecting warm food and a comfortable bed, out of our pocket.”

Wails of pain arose from Markus.

“What kind of self-respecting man does that? What kind of man takes charity and throws it away for self-loathing? I break my back at work, and all you do is get smashed. What kind of man are you?”

Markus stumbled to his feet; his earnest eyes reflected the burning newspaper. “I’ll show you. I’ll show you.” He marched to the door, grabbing a hat off of a nearby peg. “I’ll show you!” he repeated, plopping the hat on his head.

Hugh sighed as the door slammed behind Markus. He could still hear drunken shouts of “I’ll show you” rumble through the narrow streets.

“Hugh?” The soft voice cut through the tense atmosphere. “What happened? I heard yelling…”

He could produce no answer, and in the silence that he allowed, Anne was able to hear her brother shouting defiantly to the night sky.

“Is that Markus?” She rushed to the window and pressed her nose against the cold glass. When her breath fogged her vision, she spun to face her husband, expecting an answer.

“Yes.”

“You didn’t yell at him…”

“I did.” He put a hand up to keep her from yelling at the top of her lungs. “Annie, dear, it had to be done.”

She marched up to Hugh and knocked his hand away. “How dare you. You don’t even know what he’s been through.”

“Enlighten me for once.” Hugh leaned against the door and folded his arms in expectation.

Anne sighed and stared at her hands. “It’s not my place to say…”

“Annie!” He stepped forward, fiercely grabbing both of her arms. “What happened to your brother?”

Small tears formed in her eyes. “His wife and daughter were ... a terrible thing happened to them while he was at work…” She pulled herself free of his grasp. “Ever since that day, he hasn’t been the same.” She could no longer hold back the tears. “Oh Hugh…” She pressed her head against his chest, forcing him to hug her. “He’s all alone.”

Markus huddled against a brick building, pulling the dusty overcoat tightly around his curled-up legs. Two eyes peered at him from the darkness. “Hey Kitty, Kitty,” he called out.

The cat continued to stare blankly at him.

“I had a cat like you once.” A bittersweet smile spread across his face. “It belonged to my little girl. She fed that cat treats from the dinner table, even though we told her not to. Of course, that was before…” Tears streamed down his face. “… before…”

The cat ran away as Markus sobbed with memories. The frost of the air penetrated his lungs with each gasp for breath; the pain only made him feel more alone. He covered his face with his hands, hoping to block the cold.

“You took my hat.”

Markus uncovered his face and gazed up at the towering Hugh. “I knew you’d come back… I knew you didn’t mean…”

Hugh thrust his fists into his coat pocket. “I came for my hat, you git.” He jerked his head toward the house, but his voice refused to match the cold tones of his words. “Go back and put it up.”

Markus wiped his last tear away and scuffled off to the house, no longer crouched like a rat against the brick wall; Hugh walked alongside him and lifted his arm around the slouched shoulders of his brother-in-law.