Free Bed of Lies by Shelly Ellis

didn’t know that not answering phone calls constituted being dead. Maybe I just didn’t want to talk to you.”
    Evan nodded, ignoring his brush-off and peered around him at the condo’s interior. “Well, I’m here anyway. Can I come inside?”
    Terrence groused again before throwing the door open all the way, then he turned around to begin the slow trek back to his sofa.
    â€œJesus!” Evan exclaimed, shutting the front door behind him. “It smells horrible in here! Like a men’s locker room. It looks horrible, too. When’s the last time you had this place cleaned?”
    Terrence didn’t answer, but instead kept walking, finally reaching the edge of the Afghan rug.
    â€œI thought you had a housekeeper,” Evan continued, frowning down at the stack of unopened mail, dirty dishes and glasses, and discarded beer bottles that were piled on the glass coffee table. He glanced around him. “You know, I could recommend one for you if she isn’t—”
    â€œI don’t need a goddamn maid,” Terrence said as he collapsed onto the sofa and sighed with gratefulness at being back in its warm, reassuring embrace. “I got rid of the one I had. I don’t need a new one.”
    Evan leaned over and turned on one of the end table lamps, flooding the room with light and making Terrence squint his good eye. Evan’s frown deepened. “Why’d you get rid of your housekeeper?”
    â€œBecause I don’t need one, all right? Besides,” Terrence said, returning his attention to the television screen, “I need to save all the money I can, so I can hand it over to my lawyer and the woman who’s suing me.”
    Evan sighed as he fell back into one of the armchairs facing the sofa. “Your lawyer told me you haven’t been returning his phone calls.”
    â€œYou talked to my lawyer?” Terrence asked tightly, eying his brother.
    â€œHe can’t do his job if you don’t work with him.”
    â€œSo what? He went crying to you? What are you, my fucking mother?”
    â€œNo, I’m your brother—and I care about you. We all care about you.”
    Terrence didn’t respond. Instead, he raised one of the half-empty beer bottles to his lips.
    â€œShould you be drinking that and taking your painkillers?” Evan asked, now frowning. “I thought you weren’t supposed to mix that stuff.”
    â€œDon’t worry. I’m off of Vicodin now, Mom. ” He raised his brows again. “Is that why you’re really here? Were you worried that I’d overdosed?”
    â€œI just hate seeing you this way, Terry.”
    â€œJesus! What way?” Terrence shouted, slapping a hand on the sofa armrest. “What are you—”
    â€œWhen’s the last time you’ve taken a shower?” Evan asked, inclining his head.
    â€œWhat does that have to do with anything?”
    â€œWhen’s the last time you brushed your teeth or shaved?” Evan pointed at Terrence’s scraggly beard. “Hell, you could have a family of forest animals living in that thing for all you know!”
    â€œI’m going for a new look,” Terrence mumbled sarcastically, taking another drink.
    â€œYou don’t leave the house except to go to the doctor or physical therapy and you’re not even doing physical therapy anymore! You don’t talk to anybody. You just sit in the dark like a mold or a fungus. And when you finally do talk to someone, you fly off the handle! Paulette said you yelled at her yesterday and now you’re being pissy with me. I mean . . . I just . . .” Evan paused and took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry for what happened to you.”
    â€œI don’t want your fuckin’ apology,” Terrence said icily, “or your pity.”
    â€œI’m sorry you got banged up and you lost your eye,” Evan continued, undaunted. “But, Terry,