BRAD GRAY

About Brad

Gray House is kinda like a zoo, if a zoo was where animals come to look at the people. This one time I came home kinda late because I was out with Rosie and I came up the stairs to the Courtyard and it was dark, but a couple doors were open and John was in one room, and he was all bloody and Grady and Michael were crying, and then the door to Matthew’s room was open and him and Evie were in there fucking like happy as-you-please, like no one was gonna walk by, and I remember feeling like this is what our house is; just people dying and people fucking. The time Matthew got blood all over the table in the old house when he was murdered and then we ate on the table for like two and half years, all acting like we couldn’t see the bloodstain. Yeah, I guess it’s like that.

I think Frankl said something like how one can define suffering as the existence of death amid fucking, and define bliss as the existence of fucking amid death. I mean it wasn’t exactly that, I’m paraphrasing. There’s a lot of times nothing makes sense here, least of all me or my own justifications. You can stop at any one point in time and see how life is a series of loose ends someone walks away from, like just stepping out of their shoes in a car accident, and maybe what we do here is just honor that.

Brad’s bedroom is Room Six in the Clock of Bedrooms.