“It doesn’t make any sense. Women never make any damn sense. One day you’re looking at engagement rings together. And you're laughing, you know, really laughing. The world's so beautiful, a truly wonderful place. The next thing, bang! They switch. They're giving you that, ‘It's not you, it's me', crap. They ask you to be more gentle, more caring, more thoughtful. Finally, just when you think you've cracked it. After you've given up watching the game, stopped going out to bars with your friends. When one has abandoned all of one's ideals and the very essence of your being has become extinct. Then, and only then, they decide to tell you. They used to love you, but now you've changed. Fucking bitches." Alex simply nodded, his eyes closed as if in meditation. His older brother Strauss took this as a cue to continue.
           
“How do you do it? You seem to get on with women really well.”

“I don't know if you’ve noticed, but I’m single.” Alex’s eyes remained closed, he hadn’t really been listening. He knew the speech Strauss was giving. The familiar moaning monologue of his brother's saga of domestic unrest.

Alex opened his eyes. He decided to give his brother his full attention. Today was different. Strauss and Helen had been the full fifteen rounds. Enough was enough. It was time for the towel to be thrown in before any further damage was done and avoidable pain caused.

“For God’s sake Strauss!” the younger brother cut in. “You just don’t get it do you? You’re not going to win. Give up. Sit down, have a Coke, have a smile, chill.”

Helen and Strauss first met at university. Prior to that Strauss had life all planned out. University, year out, explore the world. See what was out there in need of fixing or conquering. The general ambitions of many a nineteen year-old youth. Strauss had been such a free spirited type. Indiana Jones, fortune and glory, that type of mentality. Life for Helen and Strauss was rewritten the day she had a heart-to-heart with her father. From the point of view of teenagers, this was the day it all started. In retrospect it was the beginning of the end.

Helen’s mother could best be described as white middle class. Alex always said it’s not the WMDs you need to worry about, the WMCs will get you every time. Ultimately, despite any personal reservations Mrs Beckford held, her daughter’s happiness was paramount. Helen was permitted to pursue happiness down all and any avenues. Mr Beckford however, was a totally different animal. On the surface he appeared to share the opinions of his wife. Beneath that amiable exterior lived a very different beast. When all would be revealed, Sam Beckford was not a racist, not as the word is generally taken to mean. His mind was diseased with a common form of dated ignorance.

Mr Beckford lived in a place where the world was flat and Britannia ruled the waves. He once aired his views on inter-racial relationships to his daughter. The full extent of the repercussions of this most regrettable moment of heartfelt expression can only be understood by seasoned subscribers to the chaos theory.

Mr Beckford claimed, he liked Strauss and bore him no ill will. If the Almighty had meant black people and white people to interact, or God forbid, even mate. God would have seen fit to have put them on the same continent from the outset. The Negroes should keep to their own kind. He pleaded with, even begged Helen to consider fully the difficulties any children may have. Those little black bastards, despite having two parents, they were still bastards, and they were still black. Apparently, brown was the new black, a fact was Sam Beckford was unaware of.

“One of those brown baby, little black bastard people grew up to be President of the United States!” Helen screamed at him. If Mr Beckford had any idea of the consequences of his words, surely he wouldn't have opened his bigoted mouth.

Sound travels at some seven-hundred and seventy miles per hour. The moment he’d spoken, Mr Beckford wished he could move fast, faster than the speed of sound. How he prayed he could place his hands over his baby girl's ears before his words would reach them. The first domino had fallen.

Helen immediately moved out of the family home and into Strauss’ humble abode. Subsequently, Mrs Beckford blamed her husband for the absence of her daughter, this would eventually lead to the Beckfords' divorce. In reaction, Strauss dedicated his life to proving the stupid arrogant white man wrong. He embarked upon a path taking him out of university and into any available form of gainful employment. This new path would bear witness to Strauss visiting; a building society, a jewellers, an estate agent, and a church, all in relatively quick succession. From aspirations of fortune and glory to a Kwik-Fit fitter all in a single summer break. Lives were changed, chaos theory 1, destiny 0.

It needn’t, shouldn’t have been that way. Obviously he who controls destiny was determined to create rift, feud and confusion. Strauss, Alex and Lewis went out on Strauss' stag night. It wasn't so much of a stag night; three of them went out with the sole intention of getting blind drunk, a man thing. Drunk as lords, the three returned to Strauss and Helen's new house, a nest not yet ready for post-marital bliss. With events being so rushed, the designated future marital home was still relatively unfurnished. Two double beds had been delivered, together with a few other essential items of furniture. In their drunken state the trio placed the mattresses on the lounge floor, pushing two together. They relaxed drinking beer and talking drunken man-talk until eventually they all passed out.

On the other side of town, Helen was out with her friends, getting blind drunk, maybe it's not a man thing. She wore her favourite strapless top, and was undisputedly wankered by nine. After yet another round of shots, the bride-to-be had an emotional moment. She didn't want to be in this noisy club with all these leery letches and loud music. She just wanted to be with her future husband. Helen left the club post haste without a word to her friends. By taxi, she went first to their current home, and then to Alex's apartment. As a last resort she tried the new house. The bride-to-be discovered the trio deep in drunken sleep on the makeshift bed in the lounge.

Helen Beckford, being a woman of a caring, sympathetic nature realised her boys must be cold. She unpacked two duvets and covered the trio. Immediately, she herself felt the chill and snuggled in between her husband and his brother. It was all so sweet and innocent. A definite 'fluffy' scene, it could have been an episode of The Waltons. Helen felt safe and warm between the groom-to-be and her future brother-in-law.

The dutiful Mrs Beckford convinced her husband to seek reconciliation with his only daughter.

Helen was still asleep and dreaming. Freddie, Jason or one of those unsavoury horror characters was coming for her. From within her nightmare she screamed out. Sitting bolt upright in bed she opened her eyes. There was no Freddie, no Jason, just her father. In her previous inebriated state, Helen neglected to lock the front door. Mummy and daddy had simply walked into the house. The bride-to-be instinctively pulled up the duvet to cover herself. Mr Beckford saw his daughter's bare shoulders and concluded she was naked. Who wouldn't? After all, why would she sleep in her clothes? He, however must shoulder some of the responsibility for the ensuing tragedy. If he'd been a perfect gentlemen and viewed his daughter as lady, surely he would have left the room.

“Daddy! What are you doing here?” a startled Helen questioned. The combination of noise and draught awoke her bed companions. When Strauss popped his head out from beneath the covers Mr Beckford simply thought, bad form. You know, groom seeing the bride before the wedding and all that. When the second black shaven head appeared, that image hit Mr Beckford in the chest like a hollow-point bullet. The sight of the third of the trio, Alex, his yawning face, completed the devastation. The vision struck Sam Beckford like an eighteen-pounder launched from Nelson's flagship. As the cannon ball hurtled towards him, all those images from all the nights he'd watched the porn channel whilst his wife slept came back to haunt him. His little baby girl starring in every scene. Hot-teen chick takes on three huge black cocks. Speechless, he stormed out of the house. The mother remained; she at least, got the full story.
 
Strauss looked out of the window, deliberately keeping his back to his brother so he wouldn’t notice his eyes moistening, but Alex knew his brother was upset.

“I think you need to put it out of your mind for now and move on. If you don't, you're gonna drive yourself crazy. You'll end up in Bedlam. Maybe in the future, who knows, but for now, keep your sanity. Think self-preservation.” Surprisingly, Strauss now had a smile on his face.
           
“Move on,” he muttered, pausing briefly. He felt the front of his teeth with his tongue. The action was followed by a rub of the face with his hands. “So,” he spun around, “in your considered opinion counsellor, it's time to call it a day then?”

“It’s not for me to make those decisions for you. Don't go burning any bridges on my instruction. You know my policy, never throw anything away. There'll be a time when you might need it.” Strauss said nothing; he clasped his hands together in front of him, twiddling his thumbs in a slow but deliberate manner.
           
“It doesn’t really matter,” Strauss spoke slowly. “Any decisions I had to make, I made before I came here. It was just a confidence boost. I needed you to confirm a few things to me. I know now I am doing the right thing, the right thing for me.”

“Don’t do anything drastic,” urged the younger, shaking his head. “Just give Helen time. Give her all the time you think she needs, then give her a little more. When and if she ever comes round to your way of thinking, great, deal with that information accordingly. If your new life can accommodate her then all’s well and good. If you’ve other stuff going on, then it's her loss.” He pushed his brother playfully on the cheek with his fist.

“I’m ahead of the game; I knew what you’d say. I’ve quit my job. I know I’m destined for better things. Fitting bloody tyres! What's that all about? I’ve sold my car and I’m going to spend some time with Morgan. Me, Morgan and Jack. We’re gonna go out, party, jam a little, see what we can see. It has to be done.”

“Morgan! Who on earth is Morgan?” quizzed Alex, pulling a face. “Morgan and Jack? Are these new friends of yours? Are they from work?”

“Morgan, cousin Morgan in California, and Jack. When times get rough you realise who your friends are. Mr Daniels and I, we’re tight, trust me on that. Don’t worry; I’m sure you and I for once are singing from the same hymn sheet. Me, I’m getting out of here. You know, get that woman off my mind for a while. I’m off on holiday. Get some California sun. Checkout a few bars, a few clubs. You watch me, I want to go out there and put the eff back in my fun, have some laughs, see what’s what when I get back. Maybe I don't have to come back. Why would I? Maybe there's a whole new life for me out there, just waiting, who knows? Right now, who cares! I'm just gonna live a little. I’ve been with her since I was nineteen.”

“Seems like a plan, maybe not the best plan ever devised in the history of the universe, but a plan nevertheless. Do you really want to know what I think?” Alex glanced up at the clock as he opened the refrigerator. “Plans, plans are good. I think I’ll drink to that one.” Opening two bottles of lager he passed one to his brother.
           
“Women,” started Strauss. “They’re all toys to you. Most of your friends are female, but you can’t get what you need from any one of them. Helen and I were in tune together. The closest you ever got was with, what was her name, Karin? Even she failed to live up to your expectations.”

“What does Karin have to do with anything? What do you mean exactly?” Alex was irritated.

“What was it you called her? Ah! Yes. That was it! Your great and worthy opponent. That’s what you want. That’s why you do the job you do. You like to win. You have to win.” Strauss was right up in Alex’s face. “Like you've just told me, it doesn’t work with women. It ain’t about winning, is it?”

There was no reply from Alex although he thought to say ‘touché’, the words never quite reached his lips. This was one of the rare occasions when his older brother was getting the better of him. In argument or debate Alex was always the victor. Under the present circumstances Alex decided to let Strauss win. Sure, he could come up with any number of arguments, although none of them bore any relation to the truth. Alex was convinced, you were born alone, you died alone. Why bother to get attached in between? Lonely times brought different thoughts.

As far back as he could remember Alex Goldstone always wanted to be a barrister, nothing else mattered. He did once have a crush on a girl at school, Jen. He’d retrospectively put that particular diversion down to a specific period of teenage hormonal imbalance. Other than that, sure, he liked female company, and yes, he fully enjoyed sex. The part where it became all complex and involved, that wasn't for him. Love and marriage seemed outdated concepts.

“Alex, I’ve spent my life being both proud of you and jealous of you,” announced Strauss. “You’re just great, too great.”

“Where did that come from?” Alex replied.

“Anything you put your mind to you’re just so much better than me. Life’s hard when you’ve a genius for a brother.”     

“Well,” Alex replied thoughtfully. “You were such a hard act to follow. I had to put the work in from an early age. Most of the stuff I learned, I learned from you.”

“Alex that’s crap and you know it.” Strauss was smiling but shaking his head in dismay. “What about that shooting stuff? What was it? Twenty-five metre rapid-fire pistol shooting. You were selected for the British Olympic team. You could have been world champion. You chose not to go. Couldn't be bothered,” said Strauss. Alex pulled a face.

“You know I hated shooting. I worked in a gun club bar at uni. I learned to shoot because I was bored.”

“My point exactly!” Strauss pointed a finger at his brother. “You picked up a gun and bull’s-eye! You were instantly Deadeye Dick. No real work, no real effort. Most people work hard and train for the opportunity of a lifetime. You get given one and you waste it.”

“Strauss!” Alex laughed. “I was a teenager! Twenty-five metre rapid-fire pistol shooting wasn’t going to earn me any money. It certainly wasn’t ever gonna get me laid. True, it could have lead to great career prospects. I could have been the next Lee Harvey Oswald. I bet you would have been proud of me then!” Strauss laughed with his brother. He could see the funny side. After all, what good could ever come from being good with a gun? Alex stopped laughing; he pushed his brother playfully across the room.

“You thought you’d got away with that one, didn’t you? Alex gets all the opportunities, poor Strauss gets none.” Alex’s voice adopted a more serious tone. “Which one of us was invited to try out for a top football club? Who wouldn’t go because he knew he’d fail a drug test?” He looked at his older brother in disgust. “Strauss you need to quit that shit. It’s ruining your life.”

“Lighten up, a little bit of weed never killed anybody.”

As a barrister, Alex excelled. On any given day he could and would convince twelve of his peers of almost anything. Despite the success of his career Alex was lonely and unhappy. This realisation came to fruition when his brother and Helen first separated. Strauss was upset because he felt he was losing something. Alex had never experienced, or had a relationship with, anything or anybody he deemed so precious. He couldn't comprehend the concept. The very thought that the loss of someone, or something, could generate so much fear and anxiety seemed alien to him. Now Alex was beginning to ask himself questions, questions to which he had no answers. When he thought about it, even his career was fast becoming a disappointment. If he were so truly fantastic, why did he get all the trivial, mundane cases? The firm represented many high profile politicians, celebrities, sports stars. Alex just got the dregs. After five years of proving himself and walking many guilty clients, he was convinced the old boy network was the governing force and a colour bar was most certainly in effect. The sound of Strauss’ voice, disturbed Alex’s thoughts.       

“I’m flying out to L.A. tomorrow night. Places to go, people to see, can’t be sitting down with you drinking all day. I need to fix up.” Strauss placed his bottle firmly on the coffee table before rising to his feet. “I’ll catch up with you before I go tomorrow. You’re having dinner at mum’s, right?”

“Shit, I forgot. On that subject, have you told your mother your plans?” asked Alex. His brother’s silence told the answer. “Rather you than me. What about your wife? What does she think about all of this? Have you even told her?”

“I sent her an email at work.”

“I thought you said, she said, she was on leave.” Alex was suspicious.

“Two words,” Strauss explained his actions. “Method and madness. If I tell her before I go, that’s a conversation I don’t need to have, during which, I’d hope, she’d beg me to stay. Like a fool I’d probably cave in and miss out on a trip of a lifetime. This way, when she’s back at work she’ll get my email, by which time I’ll be long gone. I won’t be taking my phone. She needs her space. I need to do this. Job done.”

“Tomorrow then.” Alex offered his hand. The method and madness plan pleased Alex. His brother truly was thinking about self-preservation.

“Tomorrow,” Strauss agreed, he embraced his brother before leaving. In the elevator Strauss had but one thought.

What would his world be like without Helen?

Alex sat pondering for a moment or two before picking up Strauss’ bottle. The way his brother hugged him, there seemed to be something extra in the squeeze. It felt very final. He further realised his brother had consumed a mere mouthful of his beer, only the neck had gone. The greater part of the bottle’s contents remained. Alex smiled to himself. In his own misguided crazy way Strauss was making dynamic and positive steps. The thought of his brother’s predicament saddened him. It was as if he were somehow being penalised for trying to buck the trend. Alex's mind wandered back through the conversation. Thoughts previously unspoken had been voiced, aired. It was as if Strauss had been getting his affairs in order, cementing the blood relationship before severing the chosen. Alex knew his brother. Strauss didn’t want to come back. And then there was that hug. There were tears between the four dry eyes, inside, Alex knew it.

When it came to commitment, relationships and nuptial affairs, the Goldstone men had a piss-poor CV. Alex’s father was around for the first ten years of his childhood, less maybe. Alex wasn’t exactly sure. As a child, he remembered the relentless arguments. Arguments centred around his father’s endless cheating and his continual infidelity. He supposed his mother had just plain run out of forgiveness in the end. Inevitably the day came when she would send him packing. The next time they saw their father, he had become chronically ill. In the final they witnessed the remaining shell, a weakened shadow of the man they'd once called daddy. Shortly after, was the funeral. Daddy’s death was nothing to do with a broken heart or the loss of his family. No, nothing as tragic or dramatic as that. Death by just cancer, plain and simple.

Dad’s brother, Uncle Rufus, had been cut from the same cloth. Rufus immigrated to the United States; something to do with a career in music, jazz rang a bell. Like Alex imagined was the fate of many West Indians in the United States, inevitably things didn't pan out. This was the music industry, an inherent party culture of drugs and women. Uncle Rufus had a son, Morgan. Only God in heaven knew who, or even where the mother was. Morgan came to live with Alex and Strauss in England for a few years. One day he mysteriously vanished. Alex believed his cousin had gone home, back to the states with Uncle Willie.