Isaac Braun 60
At the elevator, as the gate opened, was his brother Mutt.
‘Isaac!’
‘How is she?’
‘Very bad.’
‘Well, I’m here. With the money.’
Confused, Mutt did not know how to face him. He seemed frightened. Tina’s power over Mutt had always been great. Though he was three or four years her senior. Isaac somewhat understood what moved him and said, ‘That’s all right, Mutt, if I have to pay. I’m ready. On her terms.’
‘She may not even know.’
‘Take it. Say I’m here. I want to see my sister, Mutt.’
Unable to look at Isaac, Mutt received the briefcase and went in to Tina. Isaac moved away from her door without glancing through the slot. Because he could not stand still, he moved down the corridor, hands clasped behind his back. Past the rank of empty wheelchairs. Repelled by these things made for weakness. He hated such objects, hated the stink of hospitals. He was sixty years old. He knew the route he, too, must go, and soon. But only knew, did not yet feel it. Death still was at a distance.

