Curtis opened his eyes and was confused, but he took a moment to make sense of what he was seeing. In the shadowy light above were the familiar rafters of the cabin, yet they seemed too far away. Then he remembered. He had chosen to sleep on the floor and let Yousef have the entire bed to himself. He and Yousef probably could have slept together with no more than the expected amount of nervous, half-joking snark about keeping their hands to themselves. But he decided to avoid temptation and instead threw some blankets and a pillow on the floor to make a nest for himself there. After a few mumbled words, Yousef had dropped onto the bed and had quickly fallen asleep, exhausted by their day of rambling adventures. Curtis had later slipped off Yousef’s boots, tugged off his jeans, and covered him with the quilt, and that was how the boy remained.
Curtis pushed up from the floor and groped in the shadows for his t-shirt and sweatpants then slid himself into them. He found his glasses on the bedside table. In the gathering light, he lingered for a long moment to drink in Yousef’s unguarded face — his smooth, olive cheek, his long lashes, the rise of his nose, the tangle of his black curls — then turned away to quietly open the bedroom door and pass through.
The cabin was hushed; soon the sighs and groans urged by the warm touch of the sun would begin. The other bedroom door stood closed as he expected, so Curtis silently let himself onto the porch and walked to the far edge. There he pulled down the front of his sweats and peed into the scrubby gravel below. The pink, unblemished sky was brightening with the coming dawn, but the sun hadn’t yet peeked over the trees of the eastern horizon. He thought this was the best time of the day, especially at the cabin. The birds were tuning up, and on the glassy lake below he could see dimples on the water where the fish were already feeding. The new day was easing into the forest. To him, it was the hour of promise. The unspoiled, fresh start that each morning offered. Another chance to live and become and maybe understand himself a little more.
These were paths his brother’s thoughts didn’t wander. David leapt first and thought things through later. But his heart was pure, Curtis knew. His twin never acted out of malice. “You are the yin to David’s yang,” Grandpa K had once told him, which was something David probably wouldn’t understand but that Curtis accepted as true.
He stood mute and unmoving on the porch, yielding as the soft morning air caressed his skin, until he heard a snap. Then another. Not a passing deer or opossum stepping on a twig, he thought. Not enough breeze to bring down a dead branch. When he turned and looked, he saw his brother squatting at the ring, breaking sticks for their breakfast fire. He was wearing only his black boxer briefs, and he was barefoot.
Curtis stepped down from the porch and minced across the gravel, barefoot himself. David heard the crunching footsteps and turned.
“Yousef still asleep?” He spoke in a voice softly suited for the awakening day.
“Yeah. Meredith?”
“Yeah. I figured if I start the fire now, we’ll have cooking coals by the time our exhausted guests finally rise.”
“Did you two get any sleep?”
“Eventually.” David drew out the word and then smirked. “Sorry if we kept you up.”
“Didn’t hear a thing.” And it was even true, mostly. He had opened the window to let the night sounds into his bedroom. Yousef was already asleep by then, and Curtis had listened to the forest as he tried not to let his imagination drift where it didn’t belong.
“I’m glad Meredith brought a swimming suit,” Curtis said to change the subject. He accepted the stick David offered, broke it to proper size, and laid it over the tinder beside the others already there. Had it just been he and David, they would have skinny-dipped as they always did. But because Yousef was with them, Curtis didn’t want to add that provocation. And, of course, with Meredith along, none of them could have gone into the water naked.
Curtis was uncertain how familiar he could be with his brother about Meredith. He didn’t know if her parents realized she was spending the long weekend at the cabin with David, but he would never tell. He guessed Mom and Dad knew. Meredith seemed nice, but she was pulling them apart, which his dad assured him was normal and healthy and David’s right to want. That Curtis didn’t have a girlfriend made his brother’s pursuit more difficult to accept. He felt superfluous when Meredith was around and irritated when his brother wasn’t because he was with her. But David had needed his brother as cover for his trip to the cabin, so Curtis invited Yousef along. And the weekend had worked out so far.
Yousef hadn’t taken any special notice of Meredith but instead had thrown himself into every adventure Curtis could give him. After hiking all over the forest — though Curtis hadn’t taken him to any of the special places, not yet — Yousef eagerly agreed when Curtis proposed a swim in the lake. “To wash off the bugs,” he’d whispered in his friend’s ear, not wanting to alarm Meredith. He figured David would conduct a thorough tick check with her later anyway. Meredith had changed into her two-piece, which Curtis assumed she’d brought for David’s delight, while the boys swam in their underwear, each having the forethought to pack an extra pair to change into later.
And that was all David was wearing as he squatted beside the fire ring in the pearly light, snapping twigs and arranging them on the tinder. Curtis knelt beside him, helping with a practiced, almost unconscious ease. They’d built fires together for as long as either of them could remember. Their grandfathers had taught them. Their father had helped them. All the men in their lives had encouraged and praised them. Curtis understood it as one of the cabin’s most important rites. David was pleased when he could build one that he could light with a single match.
Since he’d been living with his grandfather, Curtis no longer saw his brother as much as he had before. They missed each other, and when they realized this, they were both surprised and a little alarmed, for they came to understand that this was how life was going to be now. Despite their desire, the two of them were drifting apart, and it seemed that all either boy could do was wish his brother well as they gazed across the growing distance. Curtis had agreed to David’s proposed trip to the cabin specifically to forestall this separation, if only for a weekend, though even at the cabin, Meredith and Yousef robbed them of time with each other. But they could build a fire together in the dawn light. Maybe they would always find a way to do this.
Senior year loomed. David hoped to finally make the varsity soccer team. Curtis would ascend to captain of the forensics team. They were talking about college. Life was pulling them apart in more ways than they would understand until it was too late. But for this dawn in their summer, as the sun began to rise over the eastern trees, they were together, their fingers were practicing a well-remembered act, and their present undertaking was shared across a past far older than either boy knew. The ash from their morning fire would join more than a half century of accumulation in the ring. They would have this place and this act and this memory regardless of where their lives took them. They would find ways to preserve this good thing between them. And maybe, they each thought silently, they would even share it with others in time.
–
Paul Lamb lives near Kansas City but escapes to his Ozark cabin whenever he gets the chance. His stories have appeared in dozens of literary magazines and his novels, One-Match Fire and Parent Imperfect, are published by Blue Cedar Press. You can read more about him at paullambwriter.com. He rarely strays far from his laptop.
© 2026, Paul Lamb
Halfway Down the Stairs 