Jack Goes Home

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- I heard a sound.

A wind.

A strong wind.

And then a whisper in that wind.

Remnants. Fragments.

Shattered pieces

of an illusive memory

steeped in pixilated streaks

and auto-tracked frames.

A laugh, a kiss.

Where am I?

In your arms? Your lap?

On your shoulders?

Tap, tap, tapping like the rap,

rap, rapping of the raven.

That wind would become rain.

That rain would become snow

and that snow would become ice.

That ice will melt back

to the sky.

We are born of muscle,

of meat and of blood.

Not from loving arms,

nor brutality or harm.

As family is, as family does.

Brother, sister, mother, father.

We are lodged and trapped

in every pore.

But that is our skin,

nothing more.

We are at one

with the floorboards,

the tin roof and the sky.

We are left with two questions.

- Hey, Jacks.

Hello?

- Hey.

- Writing poetry on our

precious company time again?

- Artists write poetry.

Assholes just complain.

- True. How long

till the big day again?

- Three more months

and I'll be a daddy.

- It's Andy, right?

- Unless he got a sex change

in the womb,

yes, that's the plan.

- That's so awesome, bro.

- Thanks. Don't call me bro.

We're not 17.

It makes you seem old.

Depressing.

- Look, asshole, I was just

gonna get a cup of coffee.

Do you want something or not?

- No, I'm good. Thanks, man.

- I see. Man's okay, not bro.

- You are a man, right?

Thus I can call you as such.

However, you are not my brother.

Does that make sense?

You see the difference?

- Dude, you're such a dick.

See ya later.

- Jack Thurlow.

- Jack Thurlow?

- Yep. Just said it.

- Derrick Thompson with Hudson

valley sheriff's department.

I'm sorry to tell you,

but there's been an accident.

- Wh-wh-what kind of accident?

- Your parents...

Damien and Theresa Thurlow...

They... they lost control

of their car last night.

- Are they alright?

- I'm so sorry.

- Hi, babe.

- Hiya, beautiful.

- How's our tree house?

- Ah, it's alright.

Same ol', same ol'. How's, um...

How's your grandmother?

- Hmm...

Hold on.

Sorry. I just didn't want

my mom or uncle to hear this.

Baby, she's fucking dying.

And no one will admit it.

It's like they're too English

or something.

I'm just...

tired.

- Well... why are you still up?

- Um... I don't know.

Couldn't sleep. I...

My uncle's house

is really creepy.

The wind...

Just rattles and rattles.

Taps and taps.

But, hey, the good news!

Our little one's doing well.

- Let me see.

- Hey, what's that jacket

you're wearing?

- Hmm? Oh, it's, uh...

It's my dad's.

He died today.

- What?

- Yeah, uh... he and my mom

were at the cabin and apparently

when they were driving

back to the city,

they lost control of the car

and flew off the highway.

My mom made it. Minor injuries.

She's home now, but, um...

Yeah, my dad's...

My dad's dead.

They didn't wanna give details,

but I got them anyway.

So I guess the...

The windshield severed his head

clean off his body,

or at least nearly clean off.

I guess there was still some...

Ligaments attached

to the back of his neck.

And then the wheel

broke all of his ribs

and caused

massive internal bleeding,

which would've killed him

anyway,

regardless of his head

getting chopped off.

F*ck, man.

- Baby...

Love of my life...

I-I don't know what to say.

I don't know... what to do.

- Do? Say?

There's nothing to do or say.

Um... we live, we drive,

we crash, we die.

Had to happen sometime.

- Jack... you're scaring me.

- What do you mean? I'm fine.

Like,

I'm already at peace with it.

It's weird. It's crazy, right?

- Your dad was your best friend.

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