Page 460 of The Winslow Brothers

Thatch: Goddammit, Wes! Don’t you dare leave!

Kline: If Wes can leave, then so can I.

Thatch: FUCK YOU GUYS. I TAKE THE ASS-KISS BACK. YOU AREN’T SUPPORTIVE AT ALL.

Jude: Holy shit, they really left.

Ty: I think we should leave too. To a fucking bar where I can get a drink. It’s either that or I’m going home to my beautiful woman.

Jude: I second this. It’s either a bar or I’m going home to Sophie. No in-between.

Thatch: Harry’s?

Flynn: No.

Ty: THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!

Jude: YESSSSSSSS

Thatch: Majority rules, Flynn. Looks like you’re going to Harry’s.

Flynn: Fuck.

The thread goes eerily quiet for about two hours after that, and then, their downfall is apparent.

Thatch: Cass iz gonna so pisses at me. Ty you dumb. I hate you soon much.

Ty: you luv me bros. tequila!

Jude: You drunk

Thatch: NO YOU DRINK.

Jude: Yes sirrrrrrr

Ty: HAHAHAzs.

Thatch: I haves to leaf. Cass is comin to get me. She so mud.

Jude: baby donts go

Thatch: byez bro luver you

Flynn: I hate all of you.

God, my brothers—and Thatch—really are a hilarious bunch of assholes.

I roll my eyes, but I smile too, as I type out a message so simple it’s almost criminal within the confines of the thread. But I’m certain I should be excused on this one. After today’s events, my mind isn’t exactly working at optimal level.

Once I get to my apartment and my head hits the pillow, I imagine it won’t be but a couple of seconds before I’m out for the next twelve hours.

The subway car shrieks to a stop at my station, and I have to use Herculean effort to pull myself up out of the seat and drag my tired ass out the doors and up the steps. There are only a few people who get off with me, having partied a little too hard the night before.

It’s just a two-block walk to my building—or what will now be referred to asthe scene of the crime turned miracle of life. Part of me knows I’m crazy for chancing a ride in another elevator at this point, but twelve floors of stairs is just a little too much to attempt while I’m this bone-weary. Besides, the elevator at the hospital managed not to fail me. Maybe I’ve met my quota.

But, hey, if it stops, it stops. I’ll curl up on the floor and sleep.

The cart dings its arrival, and I step inside the same elevator I first found myself in yesterday afternoon. It’s not the one in which Maria gave birth, but the memory of the whole thing comes rushing back all the same. It feels like just moments ago, and at the same time, feels like a lifetime has passed.

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