The Iron Man [Serial]

The Bachelor House

When Murphy rushed at his brothers, there was a moment I worried that I'd walked into a deeper family drama, but I saw from their smiles, laughs, and over-acted rage that the insults and grappling were brotherly greeting. I had seen other brothers, though I hadn't my own. I had seen boys fight. And men. But, I reckoned when I was young and thinking I wanted a brother,  I always imagined we would quietly sit and build something together.

They settled, with Murphy standing between the two nearly identical brothers; his arms laid over their shoulders.

"Jules," he said, "these obscene asses are father's youngest sons with Laila. The ugly one is Fahim and the smelly one is Ilham."

One of them, Ilham perhaps, rose onto his toes to sniff at Murphy's hair, which was loose and uncombed.

"What is this, Sleeping Beauty, did you lose a hat?"

The other one, Fahim, I supposed, laughed. "Who would kiss this prince?"

Murphy drew his arms away from his brothers. "My guest, Julien, was more in need of a cover," he said.

"As it should be," Fahim said, I think. "We can find you another." He patted Murphy on the shoulder.

"Excuse our greeting, Julien," Ilham said, pronouncing my name slowly. "Truly, you are most welcome here."

"Thank you. Excuse me, but are you twins?"

They all laughed.

"Yes. I am Fahim," said Fahim, offering a hand.

"Forget what Tyron says," said Ilham, "There is an easier way to tell us apart. Fahim is the smarter one."

Fahim released my hand and nodded agreement.

"While I am the more handsome one."

"And Fir'awn...." Fahim turned his head to search the yard.

"He's already run to make tea," Murphy said, looking over his shoulder.

The boy was in the house, beyond the open doors, Jericho curled at his side.

Before we were able to cross the yard, Maya called from the street. She came into the small yard carrying a basket beneath one arm, and just behind her, Me'rah came carrying a short stack of books.

"So you have enough for the guest," Maya said. She turned, balancing the basket on her hip as she shifted her hands.

Ilham took the basket. He smiled briefly in Maya's direction and then looked towards Me'rah. "We will take care of Julien."

Me'rah nodded. "Tyron," she whispered.

"Go sit and rest," Murphy told me, "I'll be there."

I followed Ilham to the house, across the terrace of mixed tile and stone. The interior floor was sand, but I saw it was intentionally placed loose sand, rather than the natural mix of sand, rock, and soil in the yard.

I sat near the firepits, one of which held grey coals warming a mismatched pair of teakettles. Fahim introduced us, as the boy poured tea into glasses upon a metal tray.

"Fir'awn, this is Tyron's guest. His name is Julien."

"Pleased to meet you," I said.

"Fir'awn is the son of Nablus, our father's first-born."

"I met Nablus, once. He has a hawk named Sa'r." I smiled.

Fir'awn made a gesture with two curled fingers.

"It's his latest thing," Ilham said.

"Sky signs, like the navy uses," Fahim said, "He speaks. A handful of languages. But this week he likes signs."

"Say something English," Ilham whispered.

Fir'awn screwed up his face, but then, looking into the coals said, "Cup a tea?"

"Yes, please." I smiled. "I would love a cup of tea."

Fir'awn smiled back. He pushed a glass of tea towards me. He then lifted his right hand near his mouth and wiggled it, as if shaking a small item held in his fingers.

"That means tea?" I asked.

Murphy walked into the house, alone, and set the stack of books between Fir'awn and I. He then put a hand on Ilham's shoulder.

"You need to help me," Murphy told his brother. "Fahim can entertain Julien."

"I could tell him some stories," Fahim said.

"Please don't," said Murphy. "Jules, if you start to feel you need something to do, please help  by reviewing some of these books."

"Tyron! What?" Fahim demanded.

"Why are you giving our guest chores?" Ilham asked.

I raised my hands in gesture of surrender, my protests were drowned out by Murphy's own defense.

"He's not doing chores! Ilham and I are doing chores. Fir'awn, you may cook, if you like."

"What chores do I have?" Ilham asked.

"I am not saying in front of my guest," Murphy told him. "Julien. Tell them."

I tried again to speak, but Murphy continued anyway.

"No! Actually, it is not for everyone to know. Julien, just do what makes you most comfortable."

I sighed. Perhaps it was a touch more dramatic than necessary, but I appreciated Murphy's intent. "You are a good friend," I said.

"I need gloves, and a change of clothes," Murphy said as he pushed aside a curtain to enter an adjacent room.

When he emerged, Murphy was covered, but for his eyes and booted feet, in white malabies. He and Ilham then moved in and out of the three-room house carrying various luggage, bedding, and cleaning supplies.

Meanwhile, Fir'awn took dough from the basket and shaped it into flat loaves, and Fahim explained that he and Ilham had, since Murphy's last visit, become schoolmasters of Wadi Feiran.

Their father was in favor of improved education for all Egyptians, and sought to use the model of learning by doing rather than learning by memorization, by combining methods formerly used in Egyptian schools reserved for the upper classes, with those of Bedouin home education.

At some point, Murphy left the yard, while Ilham remained to beat cushions and blankets with a stick.

"I've never known Tyron to be so domestic," I said.

Fahim nodded. "Tyron is a real Bedu," he said. "When he was younger, there was an argument and Tyron was told he could make his own tent. No one believed he would go. Yet, he took his animals and he lived alone in the desert."

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Chapter 93!

The media is the song "Brother My Brother" which famously appeared in the Engish dub of Pokémon: The First Movie.

And, I dedicate this chapter to my brother James, (who does not have a Wattpad account so far as I know), for reasons.