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“Hi Evan. If you’re watching this, that means that you’ve grown up and I wasn’t there to see it.”
Buck paused the videotape almost immediately, capturing his brother’s image on screen. He could see just how similar he was to Daniel - hair in the same soft curls, facial structure that was almost mirrored, eyes the near same shade.
But that was where the similarities ended. The boy on screen looked sickly and weak, tired in a way that made sense. The camera didn’t capture every detail. Then again, the video was filmed in 1993 according to the label on the tape, written in Maddie’s childhood handwriting.
The tape had shown up with a box of all sorts of things in the mailroom of his building almost a week prior. He’d been delayed collecting it because he’d been on loan to another station on the other side of LA, and he’d made the decision to stay in a hotel while working with them for the two weeks instead of attempting to survive rush hour traffic for a few hours’ nap. The only reason the box was collected at all was because someone finally notified him and he was able to arrange for Hen to grab it (instead of Eddie, who had been “forced” to return to El Paso for a few days for reasons he didn’t want to disclose, else Buck would apparently be hopping on a plane).
He’d almost sent the box back the night he finally was back in his loft and he realized it was from his father. He actually got as far as the door, intent on driving right over to USPS, 8PM and no sleep be damned, before his curiosity go the better of him. So, instead, he chose to open the box and resolved to look and throw out everything.
The first thing on top was a photo of Maddie and a little boy, with a baby between them. Any thoughts of trashing the box vanished immediately.
From the brief note he’d found inside, Phillip had come across the box, filled to the brim with things featuring Daniel. He couldn’t leave it in the house with his wife, so he made the decision to remove it, but he couldn’t erase his other son from his thoughts again. So instead, he decided to send it to Buck - acknowledging the nickname, which was nice - and he was letting him make the decision.
The box was filled with photos and cards, all of and about Daniel. There were a few stuffed toys as well, all in great condition, ones that Buck set aside in a mental debate of giving to Jee-Yun or not (for fear of unintentionally hurting his sister with their existence). Then again, the box would hurt her, so…
But the thing that stood out the most was the half dozen video tapes on the bottom, carefully preserved in plastic cases. They were numbered with puffy paint and glitter. Those he looked over and made the decision to go ahead and watch them… when he got his hands onto a working VCR.
Two days and three pawn shops later, a working VCR was set up in his living room, and he was hearing his brother’s voice for the first time.
“I’m sorry that I’m not alive. I hope I was around long enough to get to know you, Evan.” The boy stared at the camera with a solemn look on his face. A sniffle came from behind the camera. “Don’t cry, Mads. Then I’ll cry and Mom will get mad at us.”
There’s a giggle and the camera shakes a bit before settling again on Daniel’s face.
“I wanted you to know that we love you so much, little brother. You’re just a baby right now, but Maddie’s already promised to take good care of you if I’m not here to help.”
Buck’s eyes were locked on the screen. His brother, only maybe eight years old, sounded wiser than his years. The other thing that stood out was that Daniel was subdued. He knew he was dying, that his time was almost up. He was resigned to his fate.
“No matter what happens, Evan, I hope that you’re able to explore the world for me. Be happy. Live. That’s what matters, okay?”
Daniel wiped at his face, removing a tear that Buck couldn’t see.
“I know you’re too little to know me, but just know that you’re my favorite brother, Evan. Keep smiling at us.”
The video cut to black. Buck quickly hit the stop button on the VCR before getting up and stepping away for a moment. Ever since hearing about Daniel, he’d figured he’d never truly know who he was. But now he had his brother within his grasp, or at least what was captured on video.
He looked at the other five tapes, still stacked on his kitchen island along with the rest of the contents of the box. Then he turned back to the tv, rewound the tape and pressed play again.
He’d watch the others later, he decided. He just wanted to have his brother talk to him again.