Dr Jew

what he'd resolved the night before. But now in the clear light of day and spitting fried eggs he knew what had to be done, regardless of the wishes of others, whatever the expense. He had to hear the words from his mother. The writing in a letter was not how he pictured his mother. It was a strange way of speaking he had never heard her use before he left the farm, and it almost felt like a different mother. He was beginning to forget the sound of her voice. He never wanted that to happen.
    He would tell them all at breakfast.
    He went to the kitchen and saw his aunt at the stove. Vinny was eating eggs and bacon at the table and sheepishly grinned when he saw Swan. "Hi, kid."
    "Hello, Vinny. Hello, Aunt Anne. Where's Uncle Dave?"
    "He 's still sleeping I guess," said Anne.
    "I could go check," said Vinny.
    "No, I'll do it," said Anne.
    "Okay," said Vinny. "Eat your breakfast, kid."
    Swan did. All his fears and concerns of the night before, even his decision to tell them about his plans to return to the South, evaporated in the face of thick yellow eggs, bacon with craters of lard and crackle attached, the perfectly toasted wheat bread with a bed of butter between its soggy pillow, and a jar of raspberry jam waiting to layer its way onto the toast.
    "Mmmsgood," said Swan.
    "I'm glad you like it," said Vinny. "Fill 'er up."
    It didn 't last. It never did.
    The door from the living room whipped open. His Aunt Anne had her hand over her mouth and in her eyes: terror.
    "What?" said Vinny. "What is it?"
    But she only shook her head and kept her hand cupped tightly over her mouth.
    "Upstairs?" said Vinny . "Stay here, Swan."
    Vinny ran out. Swan's peaceful breakfast had been stolen from him and he couldn't understand why. The food was in his mouth but he couldn't chew – not with his aunt starting to cry, her face going red.
    "Aunt Anne?"
    She couldn't ignore her nephew like she could the midget and said, "It's okay, Swan. It's okay."
    The little man returned. "Was he like that when you got out of bed?" said Vinny.
    "I don 't know," said Anne. "I just went in and –"
    "I know," said Vinny.
    "Should we call the police?" said Anne.
    "Are you crazy? Dave killed a man yesterday. It may not be right but we got to get out of here."
    "What 's going on?" said Swan.
    Vinny remembered Swan. "Look, Swan. I have some news. Bad news. Your uncle… he's no longer with us. He's passed away."
    "Where did he go ?" said Swan.
    "He 's dead, kid."
    "Dead?"
    "Yes," said his aunt. "It was probably his heart. The doctor –"
    "Forget that. We got to figure out what we're gonna do. Alright, we got the cash from yesterday. It's in the safe though. You can open it, right, Anne?"
    "I think so," said Anne, wiping her tears away.
    "Then do it. And grab anything else you have, jewelry, whatever."
    "Al-alright."
    She was gone and Swan was alone with Vinny. The midget came to the giant and put a hand on his shoulder.
    "Look, Swan, I 'm real sorry. But now ain't the time to cry."
    "Uncle Dave is dead? I don't believe it."
    "Hey, go upst airs and take a look. Why would I lie?"
    "I don 't know. I just don't want to believe it. We saw him yesterday."
    "Life is fast, kid. Get used to it. Right now we gotta get out of here. I need you to get your things –"
    "Vinny, are you the big boss now?"
    "Am I the…? Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am."
    "But, Vinny! You're so small."
    Vinny smiled and punched Swan's shoulder. "Alright, enough out of you. Get your things, whatever you can put in a bag. We're leaving."
    Swan took one more bite of toast the oil so rich and went upstairs. His aunt was in the office where Swan slept, getting money from the safe.
    "Oh – Swan," said Anne.
    "Yes," he said. Because there was nothing else to say. Swan took his duffel bag down the hall with his aunt. When they came to the bedroom and its closed door, Anne stopped him.
    "Would you like to say goodbye?" she said.
    "To Uncle Dave?"
    She nodded and pushed the door in and Swan saw his uncle as he had never seen him before, in repose with his eyes closed and a serene look that relaxed the wrinkles on his forehead and cheeks and gave him the face of a younger man. It was so alien the creature that… no, no –
    "No!" said Swan. "It's not him. Look, it's not him!"
    For the cruelty and sharpness of David Parker was gone and would never show itself again and all that remained of the uncle was a cold corpse, the footprint of where a man had walked that bore little resemblance to the man itself