This post was written for Sunday Photo Fiction.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He peered through the dingy window beside the obnoxiously red door and tapped on the glass with his finger again.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“I know you’re there, Kev. Open the door.”
He waited another minute before lifting his hand to tap a third time.
Tap. Tap. The door opened just a crack, but he couldn’t stop his hand from giving a third tap.
“What do you want, Nick?”
Nick stared at the crack, suddenly unsure what to say. The door started to close again.
Nick put his hand up to stop it. “You’re coming outside.”
“Not happening.” The door pushed against Nick’s hand.
“It’s been three weeks, Kev,” Nick said and pushed all of his weight into the door. “I’m upset about it too, but this isn’t healthy.”
The door swung open. Disheveled, half asleep, and reeking of booze, Kevin stared at his brother from inside the dark house.
Nick shook his head and grabbed the front Kevin’s shirt. One quick tug brought him out onto the sunny porch. “It’s time to move on, man.”
Kevin shook his head. “I’m not ready.”
“And I’m not letting you wallow in self pity anymore. Count yourself lucky I let it last this long.”
Kevin looked from the rising sun to his brother’s car parked at the curb, the passenger door hanging wide open.
“She isn’t coming back, bro.”
“I know.” Kevin looked over his shoulder at the door Nick was pulling closed. “But, I can’t let her go yet.”
“I’m not asking you to.” Nick patted his brother on the back and guided him for the stairs. “I’m only asking you to focus on the good times instead of the bad–instead of the accident.”
“I’m not making any promises.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Nick repeated.