“Just put your fingers in it,” Simon said.
“No. I’m not doing that,” Tucker replied.
“That’s how it works. You have to,” Simon explained.
“I’ll just hold it with two hands and give it a toss, like a big rock.”
“They won’t let you play like a five-year old. You have to put your fingers in the holes.”
“How do they clean them? Do they wash them out? Some kind of special brush?”
“Exactly,” Simon agreed when in fact he had no idea how or if it was done.
“Show me the brush,” Tucker demanded.
“Just take your turn, you’re embarrassing yourself,” Simon urged.
“What if I wear gloves? They have those don’t they?”
“Sure, in the pro shop. Not sure how much they cost though,” Simon said, trying to dissuade Tucker from further delaying the game.
“I don’t need a pro glove, I’ll just get some from the janitor’s closet.” Tucker trotted off in the direction of the office and returned with a pair of rubber gloves. “Good to go.”
“Finally,” Simon said. “What are you, some kind of germaphobe? How do you use a public toilet?”
“Well, I wait until someone is leaving so I don’t touch the door. Then I stand back from the toilet and pee. To get out I push the door open with my foot. You can do a lot with your elbow and foot. Number two isn’t an option though,” Tucker explained.
“What do you do in an emergency?” Simon asked.
“What, you mean like an earthquake?” Tucker asked.
“No, like when you have to go number two really bad and it’s an emergency type situation,” Simon said.
“That doesn’t happen. I once held out for a week when I was on a camping trip in fifth grade. Even baked bean night didn’t break me,” Tucker said.
“You really lead a life of adventure. Now, are you ready to bowl?” Simon asked.
Tucker retrieved his bowling ball from the return, slipped his gloved fingers into the holes and started out with a decent roll, seven pins down. The second roll he managed to get two more pins, and felt satisfied with his germ-proof technique.
Simon sighed as he dried his hand over the heated vent at the center of the return. He slipped his fingers into his ball and felt something chip off the side of the finger hole. It was soft, like dried ear wax. He shuddered, but didn’t want Tucker to see that he was trying to back one of his fingers out of the hole. His partial grip caused the ball to wobble feebly into the gutter. After the ball returned, he put his fingers in the holes, assuming the trip from the gutter and back would have freed any detritus from the ball. But the bit remained anchored to some hair that was stuck to the layer of crud in the hole. Simon decided to ignore it, gripping the ball with gusto and threw a nine pin knockdown. He felt good until he noticed a chunk of brown gunk stuck to his fingertip. He grabbed a napkin to wipe away the goo. A crescent of dark matter remained under his fingernail. The gunk on the napkin was dark and sticky, with grit and hair and flecks of bowling pin paint.
“That’s disgusting. I can’t play with this ball,” Simon complained.
“Do you want some gloves?” Tucker asked.
Simon glared at Tucker. “No, I do not want gloves. I want a clean ball. Wait here.” Simon carried his ball to the front desk. “Do you have a ball cleaner?”
“Sure. State of the art,” the attendant said. “A steam cycle, a foam cycle and a steaming foam cycle.”
“How long does it take?”
“About twenty minutes, and another few for the ball to cool down.”
“Does it clean the finger holes?”
“Oh no, you have to put plugs in the holes.”
“How do you clean them?”
“You can’t, as far as I know. I guess you could stick a brush in there and move it around, but you can’t get any water in the holes. The ball will soak it up and go lopsided.”
“So you’re saying that in all the bowling alleys of the world, all the balls have filthy finger holes?”
“I don’t know about filthy, but you can’t clean ‘em. It’ll ruin the ball.” Simon stared at the clerk for a moment. “Can I have some gloves?”
“Latex ok?” the attendant asked.
“Sure.”
Simon returned to the alley where Tucker was carefully drinking a soda with his gloved hands. He held the glass with his palms to keep his fingers from touching the sides.
“It’s awkward, but it tastes just the same,” Tucker remarked. “You ready to bowl?”
The two men bowled for a couple of hours with gloved hands, until Simon finally returned his ball to its bag and they walked out to the parking lot.
“What did you think of bowling?” Simon asked Tucker.
“I’ve done it before. My arm is sore, but it was pretty fun. Sorry about your dirty ball.”
“Yeah, guess I’ll have to get a new one.”
“You should invent a machine that cleans the holes, or a ball with holes you can clean. I bet you’d make a lot of money,” Tucker said.
“I’ll think about it.”
“It’s the equinox today. Half-light, half-dark. It happens twice a year. It’s why they built Stonehenge,” Tucker said.
Tucker had moved in with Simon when their parents died in a house fire. He had Down Syndrome and wasn’t able to live alone. Simon had been helping his little brother all his life, so having him move in felt perfectly natural. Simon’s wife Carol did not agree. She thought Tucker was creepy clean-freak and after six months of pressuring Simon to put Tucker in a home they divorced. Simon often complained to Tucker how much he missed her.
“How do you know so much about Stonehenge?” Simon asked.
“I built a model in my room. Wanna see?” Simon stayed out of Tucker’s room unless he was explicitly invited. Tucker understood that he relied on others but his bedroom had always been a sanctuary, and his family respected it.
“Sure, I’d love to,” Simon replied.
Back home Simon set his bowling ball in the hall and headed upstairs to Tucker’s bedroom. Inside, everything was neatly ordered. The bed made, all of Tucker’s books, art supplies and clothes were organized, folded and hung. At his desk was a model of Stonehenge made out of clay. It appeared to be a perfect scale model, as near as Simon could tell.
“Tucker, this is amazing! How did you did you do this?”
“I found instructions on the Internet and watched a video.”
“Are these little people milling around the stones?” Simon asked.
“Yes. They’re the worshipers. You have to have those.”
“Really? This is really an excellent model, Tucker,” Simon said as he leaned closer to see all the tiny details.
“It’s not a model, it’s a real Stonehenge,” Tucker said.
Simon kept soaking in his brother’s work, dazzled by the remarkable detail of the model. “No, it’s not really Stonehenge Tucker, it’s just a model.”
“It’s real,” Tucker said flatly as he stabbed Simon in the neck with an X-acto knife. He struck where the neck meets the shoulder just behind the collarbone and blood immediately started to gush. Simon was reeling, he couldn’t make sense of what just happened. He fell to the floor, holding his hand to his neck, hot blood flowing between his fingers.
“Why?!” was all Simon could say.
“So I can have powers. I need a human sacrifice. Then I can fix everything,” Tucker said as he stabbed Simon again.
Having spent his entire life defending his Down Syndrome brother, Simon found he wasn’t able to fight back against Tucker’s attack. He scrambled out the door, tumbling down the stairs leaving a bloody stain in his path. Tucker was right on top of him in the hall and put a knee on Simon’s chest to hold him still as he aimed for the other side of his neck. Simon squirmed, but was weak and dizzy from shock. He tried to hit Tucker, who kept stabbing his fists and arms.
“Hold still!” Tucker bellowed in a voice Simon had never heard before. “I’m going to get Carol back for you!”
Simon reached for his bowling ball and managed to swing the bag into Tucker and knock him out cold. Simon crawled to his phone and called 911.
***
After Tucker was released from the hospital he was taken into custody.
“Why did you stab your brother?” the lieutenant asked.
“I needed a human sacrifice so I could have powers to bring Carol back.”
“But your brother would be dead, so it wouldn’t do him any good.”
“I’d bring him back with my powers,” Tucker said.
The lieutenant flipped through a case file. “Tell me about what happened to your parents.”
“They died in a fire. The house burnt down.”
“Both died at the same time I see. But you were fine.”
“I was awake. They were asleep.”
“Yeah, I figured that. Tucker, did you light the house on fire?”
“Yup.”
“Why?”
“I heard Mom and Dad talking one night through the air vent in my room. They didn’t know it, but I could always hear them. They were worried about getting old and sick and didn’t know what would happen to me. They also said they wanted to be cremated instead of becoming worm food. So I helped them.”
“You helped your parents by burning then up?”
“They didn’t want to get old and sick, so I put pills in their food and set the house on fire to cremate them like they wanted. I learned how on the Internet. And on TV. Have you ever watched CSI?”
“I have,” the lieutenant replied. “And you were helping your brother the same way?”
“Yup. I love him. He’s my best friend. Just like I loved Mom and Dad. They’ve all been so good to me I wanted to do something for them.”
The lieutenant went to visit Simon in the hospital and told him about his parents and the attack in Tucker’s bedroom.
“Is there any way he can just come home?” Simon asked.
“That seems like bad idea. He murdered your parents and tried to do the same to you.”
“He just doesn’t understand. He meant well.”
“He’s a grown man, and despite his disability he knew exactly what he was doing. He admitted to murdering your parents, and he’s already been charged. They might go easy, or they might make an example of him.” The lieutenant left and Simon drifted off to sleep. He never woke up again. An infection developed from the stab wound in his neck, poisoning his blood. He died three days later.
Tucker was being held in the jail, awaiting his hearing, but decided he didn’t want to stay there anymore. He didn’t know that anything had changed but found that he was able to walk right through the walls of the jail like they weren’t there. He was also able to make himself invisible and fly back to Simon’s house just by thinking about it. When he found out Simon had died, he brought him back to life and reunited him with Carol. He considered bringing his parents back, but decided against since they’d been ashes for so long.