Saturday
Hugo Brooke had barely taken his first step out of the tub when his wireless sent its dull chime throughout the apartment’s (rather low-quality, he had to admit) sound system and alerted him to an incoming call.
“Go ahead, Norman,” he signaled for the wireless to accept the call while groping for a towel. There was a pause while the two systems linked, a beep, and then:
“Hugo?”
Hugo didn’t reply at once, instead choosing to focus on drying his face and hair. That done, he sighed and took a long look at himself in his washroom mirror. The glass was cheap and poor quality (even by imitation standard) and Hugo always thought it made him look thinner somehow. Washed out, maybe. Everything was where it was supposed to be; his still-damp hair curled tightly as it always did, his wide nose sat squarely in the middle of his face like it always had, the circles under his brown eyes were as dark as ever. Everything was in its place, but still... He could never quite put his finger on it, but the reflection he saw in this room never seemed to be exactly what it should.
Are you up to this today? he asked the reduced version of himself in the mirror.
He supposed he’d find out.
“Hello, Saturday.”
“There you are. I figured you’d still be asleep.”
“It’s almost five o’clock.”
“Yeah, I know. Sort of an early start for you, huh?”
Hugo told himself he wouldn’t take his sister’s bait and then proceeded to do exactly that. “Better late than early sometimes. But you know all about being late, don’t you? Remember in high school when you went on a date with that kid from Alexandria? You were almost two whole weeks late after that if I recall.”
There was a pause, and Hugo was displeased by how much satisfaction he derived from imagining the look on Saturday’s face as she tried to formulate a response. If he knew his sister, she’d throw a quick jab and quickly establish a ceasefire.
“All that time you devoted to studying my romantic escapades instead of having any of your own has clearly paid off.” She finally delivered with surprising heft. Hugo did not need to be reminded how long it had been since he’d been laid. “Look, Hugo, I didn’t call to fight like this. I just want to talk, alright?”
Hugo gave himself a mental thumbs-up. A lot had changed since Saturday had gotten married, but he was still an expert when it came to her tactics. He knew what she’d called to tell him, but he played his part and said, “Alright, what do you want to talk about?”
“Your favorite topic: You.” Saturday said. He heard a lighter flick and then a slow inhale. She’s smoking again, he thought to himself, equally surprised and worried. Saturday wasn’t one to pick up vices she’d made a point to leave behind her.
“Oh, perfect, I’m an expert on that subject.”
“How long are you gonna keep this up?”
“Keep what up?”
“Stop being a jackass, Hugo. How long are you gonna put Dad through this?”
This genuinely caught him off-guard. “Excuse me?”
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him? When’s the last time you called him?”
Hugo hadn’t spoken with his father since the night he’d moved out, almost a year and a half ago now. Saturday was well aware of this, as it was their main topic of conversation whenever she called him (which had been occurring with increasing frequency over the last few months). “It’s been a minute.”
“A minute.”
“Maybe a bit more. The amazing thing about wirelesses, though, is that they actually work two different ways. You see, you can make calls, sure, but you can also receive calls. And that doesn’t even cover the other stuff they can do or the staggering amount of porn you can watch on ‘em. They’re really pretty fantastic. Anyway, lately I haven’t had a lot of action on the ‘receiving’ end of things.”
He heard her sigh and physically felt her rolling her eyes at her wireless.
“You know what Dad’s like,” she continued after another long inhale. “He’s not gonna be the one to make the first move.”
“But I should?”
“Yes, Hugo, you should.” She said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, like she were an adult explaining to a child why the rain had burned their skin. “He’s all alone now, don’t you get that?”
“I’m not the only one who left!” He was getting defensive, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself.
“I didn’t leave, I moved out. There’s a difference. I still go see him and check on him and I don’t pretend like he doesn’t exist!” Saturday’s voice rose steadily and the sounds of her inhales and exhales became more audible as she puffed her cigarette with more and more urgency. “Think about what he’s been through! First Mom, then Grandpa and now you!”
Hugo could not speak for a moment. No matter the differences between his sister and himself, they had always upheld an unspoken truce: they did not discuss their mother’s death or the devastating effect it had had on their father. Hugo did not clearly remember most of the time immediately after she’d died, but he vividly remembered the scene his father had made at the memorial. Then, only a few years later, his own father had died unexpectedly and Your Man Friday Brooke: Best Lawyer in Babylon™ had endured several very dark, very isolated months buried in his work. It was actually during this time that Hugo had first buried himself within the seemingly-infinite contents of the Archive and fallen in love with the great noirs of the pre-End Times world.
“Don’t you dare put that on me,” he was finally able to say, unsettled by the heat he felt creeping up his neck.
There was a pause and another deep inhale, and then: “I don’t think he’s… well.”
Hugo wasn’t sure what to do with that at first; Saturday wasn’t usually vague. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t exactly know… When I ask him about it he says everything’s fine, but I don’t think he’s been sleeping. I talked to Jenny and she’s… concerned.”
Jenny was his father’s right hand at the firm and had been for as long as Hugo could remember. “What sort of concerns? C’mon, Saturday, don’t drag this out.”
“She says he’s been slipping. Missing details in briefs and misquoting laws in arguments.”
This was alarming. Friday Brooke had been a perfectionist since the day he was born. Hugo remembered his father once telling him that he’d re-written a professor’s syllabus during his first round of sessions because she had misquoted a famous case. She’d been less than thrilled with his audacity, and thus what passed for a legend in the world of law was born.
“He’s been lawyering practically every day of his life since he finished his sessions; he’s probably just burnt out right now.” Hugo justified.
“I don’t think that’s what it is.”
“What do you think it is?” Hugo could hear the frustration in his voice. If she had a point why didn’t she just make it?
“I think he’s sick. I think there’s something wrong that he’s known about for a while and it’s getting worse.” Saturday said this all in what sounded like one, long breath she’d been holding in for some time. “I think he might be dying.”
Hugo’s gut reaction was to scoff; Saturday was a worrywart, and their mother’s death had only exacerbated her natural tendency to assume the worst. But something stopped him before he could begin making fun of her, something tugging at the back of his mind; hadn’t his father looked progressively thinner during the months leading up to their last dinner together? He’d never been a large man, but it seemed there was less and less of him each time his son saw him. Hadn’t Hugo even mentioned it to him not once but twice in those last weeks? And neither of his answers had been real answers, only vague acknowledgements followed by swift changes of subject.
“If you come home, you might be able to convince him to get checked out, or do whatever it is he has to do if he is sick.” Saturday continued. “And you’ll get out of that apartment. I know you can’t be happy with how things are right now.”
“You don’t know half as much as you think you do, Saturday.” Hugo would not go back. Even if the old man were sick, even if he were –
Hugo would not go back.
“C’mon, when’s the last time you actually got paid? I know Aunt Connie hasn’t lost any jewelry lately.”
“I’m not doing this for the money. And it just so happens I have a meeting with a client set up for later today.”
“Oh, really?” He could hear the sneer in her voice.
“Yes, really. I’m getting ready for it now, as a matter of fact, so I gotta go. Give my love to Pete and the baby. Norman, that’s enough.”
“Don’t you dare –” Saturday’s voice cut off as Hugo’s wireless severed the link.
He stared in the mirror for a while longer, waiting for the flush to disappear from his cheeks.
He swore to himself for the hundredth time that he would never go back.
ⓍⓍⓍ
He dropped the bag containing his bundled clothing into the building’s incinerator, watching it slide down the chute with a slight hisss echoing in its wake.
That was an almost-new jacket, he thought as the bag slid from view and the acidic odor from its gradual disintegration wafted toward him. He closed the lid to the chute and headed toward the building’s exit. He would miss that jacket.
Hugo lit a cigarette as he walked outside. The smog was thick overhead and its dull color seemed to match his mood. He couldn’t think about the jacket without thinking about Zeke. He’d already decided he wouldn’t be going back to Sunny Pastures, but part of him couldn’t help but hope Zeke would come to him and apologize for what he’d done. He didn’t know if he’d accept the apology, but it would be a nice gesture and it would make Hugo feel slightly less like a fool.
He took a drag. He doubted Zeke would be stopping by any time soon.
Hugo didn’t want to think about Zeke, or the jacket, or the things that might have happened to him while he was tripping in Sunny Pastures. He also didn’t want to think about Saturday, or his father, or his alleged duties as a son.
There were a great many things Hugo Brooke didn’t want to think about, but there were also a great many things he couldn’t stop thinking about.
What a conundrum, he thought as he took another drag and started walking toward the stacks. Dr. Micki’s office shared a block with Sunny Pastures, and the shantytown lay between Hugo and his appointment. He wasn’t too worried, though; he felt reasonably sure he could take the long way around and avoid any confrontations.
He felt too tired to be genuinely intrigued, but he was curious about Dr. Micki and her case. The case he’d told Saturday he’d already gotten lined up.
Dr. Micki had answered after a few rings, and he’d been grateful for it. He hadn’t felt comfortable standing in front of the clinic, and he’d hoped to finish the call and go on his way as quickly as he could.
“This is Dr. Micki,” she’d managed to sound cheerful in only a few words, Hugo couldn’t help but notice. He tried not to be annoyed. He wasn’t in the mood for cheerful people at the moment, but that wasn’t her fault.
He’d introduced himself, and she’d somehow become even more energetic.
“I was hopin’ you’d call!” She’d said, her accent twanging. Hugo had tried to place it; Jericho? Baghdad, maybe? Definitely one of the more rural Cities, he’d thought, or maybe one of the smaller suburbs.
“I try not to keep potential clients waiting,” Hugo had said, trying his damnedest to manage the perfect balance of interest and cool detachment. “I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you last night, I was tied up.”
“Oh, that’s no problem,” Dr. Micki had assured him. “But at the moment I’m actually smack in the middle of a London Coon’s colonoscopy and that anesthesia’s not gonna last forever.”
“I could call later if that’s more convenient,” Hugo had offered, hoping he didn’t sound too eager.
“I hate to be a pain, but would it be possible for you to come down to the office?” She’d asked. “I don’t want to sound paranoid, but I’m a bit of a techno-phobe and I’d really be more comfortable talkin’ about all this face-to-face.”
“Oh,” Hugo had said, caught off guard. How badly to I need this case? he’d asked himself. He’d thought about it for only a second. “Sure, that’s no problem. When do you want me to stop by?”
She’d sent him the address and suggested he come around 8 o’clock, just after the clinic closed for the night. Hugo had thought Dr. Micki labeling herself as a techno-phobe was odd, but he’d assumed it came with coming from a suburb. Technology isn’t really the sort of thing you can avoid in this City, so he’d guessed she had recently relocated and was still adjusting.
After they’d said their goodbyes Hugo had headed home and spent the rest of the afternoon soaking in his tub, determined to rid himself of the smell of the stacks before his meeting with Dr. Micki. While he was soaking he’d tasked Norman with doing a bit of research on his new potential client, and the wireless had been able to find quite a bit.
She was originally from Gettysburg, an ancient suburb of Jericho. Jericho was one of the largest Cities, but it was a little backwards when compared to Alexandria or Hugo’s own stomping grounds. Hugo had been glad to learn his guess about her origin was right, but he learned he was wrong about her recent relocation. She’d left Gettysburg when she was only 19 to attend sessions in Jericho. She’d taken a lot of classes in her day, but she’d focused mainly on veterinary medicine and biology. She’d earned a good number of degrees and then, apparently, caught a bit of wanderlust. Norman wasn’t able to track all of her stops, but during her travels she’d established veterinary clinics and research projects in Jericho, Baghdad, Constantinople, Carthage and Beijing.
Now that she’s set up here she’s tackled all the big Cities, Hugo had thought to himself as he soaked. She’s successful, well respected in her field and financially stable. What in the world could she want with me?
He hadn’t had a clue then and he still didn’t have a clue as he crossed the street and left the block his apartment was located in. He was curious, though, and he needed something to wonder about. And there was a chance he might get a paycheck out of this, and a chance to show Saturday he knew what he was doing.
He threw his cigarette into a receptacle as he passed and increased his pace. The smog still hung heavy above him as he came into view of the clinic, but Hugo thought his mood might have slightly improved.