Page 12 of Our Last Resort

He extends an arm, and the young man tumbles back. For a few suspended seconds, no one moves or speaks.

William’s sobs resume, his torso quaking.

I feel the small crowd shifting to my left.

Gabriel.

He’s stepping forward, his gaze fixed on Sabrina’s body. His arms dangle at his sides.

“Hey,” I whisper.

With the disembodied movements of a sleepwalker, Gabriel lowers himself to the ground.

William lifts his head. When his eyes land on Gabriel, his face contorts in anger.

“What the fuck do you want?”

Gabriel doesn’t move.

“You,” William says as he stands up. “What’s your problem? Why are you looking at her like that?”

He stomps toward Gabriel.

“Get up,” I say, raising my voice this time. I pull Gabriel to his feet.

Something seems to switch back on in my brother’s head. He blinks, looks at William as if seeing him for the first time, and takes a step back.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I wasn’t trying to—”

William isn’t listening. He brings his face half an inch from Gabriel’s, grabs fistfuls of my brother’s T-shirt.

“That’s my wife,” William says.

Gabriel squeezes his eyes shut. His hands raise, useless against William’s rage. An image straight from our childhood: my brother in trouble, bracing himself for a strike, a mother’s hand clasped around his wrist.

“That’s my dead wife,” William continues. He’s screaming now, his face a deepening shade of scarlet. “You like looking at her like that?” With each word, William gives my brother a shake. “You get off on it, you sick pervert?”

He was in shock,people will say later.He didn’t know what he was saying.

I insert my body between William and Gabriel.

“Leave him alone.”

I reach for William’s fists, try to unclench them from Gabriel’s T-shirt. William shoves me back. He’s strong, his strike precise and painful against my collarbones. I grab on to his robe, which threatens to come undone.

“Stop,” someone says faintly.

William searches for the speaker, then returns his gaze tome.

“Stay out of this, you cunt.”

I open my mouth to yell—what? Before I can decide, Gabriel cuts in: “All right.”

With a burst of strength, he wrestles out of William’s grasp. He takes a few steps back, palm out in front of him, creating space between William and the two of us.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel says, slightly out of breath. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry.”

He smooths the front of his T-shirt. William considers him, seemingly confused, like it has never occurred to him to back down from a fight.

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