Free The Other Brother by Brandon Massey

"Sometimes I wonder why you're in such a rush to have kids."
    "I'm thirty years old. I don't want to be an old man, hobbled with arthritis, when Junior wants me to play ball with him."
    "Yeah, that's what you always say. I feel like the gender roles have been reversed. Usually the guy wants to put kids on hold so he has more time to enjoy his wife while her body is tight."
    "Is it so wrong for a man to want to have children with his wife? Seems like a natural, good thing to me ."
    "Like something your father would approve of, huh?"
    He laid his silverware against the plate. "What's that supposed to mean?"
    "Forget it." She shrugged. "How's your salmon?"
    He stared at her fora beat. Dana studied her wineglass and took a bite of food, avoiding his gaze.
    It was enough.
    She didn't buy his explanation for why he wanted to have children so soon, and he wasn't prepared to confess his honest motives, either. The truth? Having children of his own, in a way, would make him feel like Pops. Gabriel loved children, was excited by the thought of being a dad. But ... being a father would nudge him that much closer to living in his father's vaunted image.
    But was that such an awful thing? His father was a good man-a great man. Pops was Gabriel's hero and role model, always had been. Shouldn't a son emulate his own father and not some immoral and arrogant pro athlete or rap artist, as so often happened nowadays?
    Dana just didn't understand, and he didn't want to discuss it with her further. His adoration of Pops was already a source of tension between them.
    Gabriel chewed a piece of the fish. "The salmon is delicious."
    "Good" She took a long sip of her chardonnay and then held out her glass. "Mmm. Pour me some more, please."
    "Looks like someone's gonna get lit tonight." He reached for the wine bottle, which was an arm's length away.
    His hands began to tingle. Pins and needles attacked his flesh.
    Gabriel snatched his hand away from the bottle and buried both his hands in his lap.
    "What's wrong?" Dana asked.
    "Nothing" He rubbed his palms against his jeans, trying to make the prickly feeling go away.
    "I'm not stupid. You were about to get the wine and then you jerked your hand away-and now you're hiding your hands under the table. What's wrong?"
    "It's nothing. I felt a chill, that's all. It startled me"
    "I know you better than that, babe." she said. "Please, tell me what's wrong."
    He felt his resolve faltering. He couldn't continue to tell himself that the weird things happening to him were flukes. This was the third time his palms had gotten that electric, crackling feeling. Coincidences didn't happen in threes.
    The sensation faded. He put his hands on top of the table and spread them as though for a palm reading.
    "Gabriel," Dana said. "Please"
    "Okay," he said. "I'll tell you."
    He told her everything.
    He told her about the tingling that had thrice struck him at unexpected moments. He told her about the humanoid shape he'd seen in the mirror at the hospital. He told her about the door that evidently had opened of its own accord.
    As he talked, though he had no answers for anything that had happened, he began to feel better. It felt good to share his troubles with someone who cared, and he berated himself for not telling Dana earlier.
    "I wish you hadn't kept this from me," Dana asked. "I might've been able to help you"
    "Do you know what's going on?" he asked.
    "Off the top of my head? No. But I'll research it. I think it's connected to your accident. You may have sustained some kind of nerve damage to your hands"
    He nodded. That made a lot of sense. But there was more. "What about me seeing the shape in the mirror?"
    "That happened to you shortly after you awakened last night, right? After you'd suffered a major concussion, remember? Seeing a fleeting glimpse of something, a brief hallucination or misinterpreting a shadow-not so unusual."
    "I can buy that," he said. "And the bathroom door opening?"
    Her brow furrowed. "I'm