Typical

Rakesh imagined his brother's malignant sarcoma as flowering vines that rapidly covered the walls of his heart, entwining the humming blood vessels and singing in time with the wires and tubes around Jaichand, mirroring the mess beneath his ribs. That type of cancer, he was told, was a blood-fed one, vessels growing in the tumor and filling it with red. Most of the jargon he did not understand, but when the doctors announced his brother's death, he could only picture him drowning in a sea, the ruptured tumor like a great flood, Jaichand without an ark.

What an awful way to die, he thought between howling and tears at the crowded funeral, inconsolable as his brother's throng of friends, professors, and admirers looking on at his pitiful figure, banging at the ground and screaming. He was forced out of the wake to “get air” and collect himself, and with no one to stop him, left the funeral home outright, suit and all, walking for a good two hours to Glen Island Park, which overlooked the ocean.

As a little boy (and even as an older one), Rakesh thought that swimming was the only thing that he surpassed his brother in, enrolling in classes and winning a few trophies and medals, now dusty and kept in a box. Jaichand, with an entire display case of awards and honors, was deathly afraid of the sea sweeping him away, and would merely smile and watch on during summer days while Rakesh became smaller and smaller against the horizon, water kissing his body.

And now, Jaichand, so scared of drowning that he woke up in cold sweat every so often with dreams of his lungs overtaken by water, had actually died of what he feared. God- gods, whatever it is that ruled the world, if anything at all, must have been playing a vicious joke. As waves playing against Rakesh's leather shoes and white socks, he considered tossing himself into the ocean and going about a similar end, but he knew all those years of swimming classes would not allow it.

He took a few confident steps into the water, cold up to his knees. September weather did not attract too many people to frequent this place, and there were no strangers to prevent him from shouting and weeping sloppy tears that stung his eyes.

“I'M SORRY JAICHAND!”

Heaving breaths.

“I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SO FUCKING SORRY!”