Liz Partin sat in front of her brother Matthew at the kitchen table. Matthew, or Matt, as everyone called him, had been drinking, as was obvious by the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels in front of him. Although it was only 3:00 in the afternoon, the house had more of a 3:00 a.m. feel to it. The stillness suggested the quiet of early morning and a there was a slight chill in the air, although the thermostat was set to 80 on this mid-July afternoon.  

     Matt was inebriated and very agitated, much to the annoyance of his older sister. Matt had asked her to come over a couple of hours ago, saying there was something of importance he needed to tell her. He emphasized to her not to bring his young niece Becky. So, Liz took Becky to a friend’s house and postponed an afternoon shopping trip to see what Matt wanted to discuss. She didn’t appreciate finding him in this condition.

     But, she was also concerned, for it was not like Matt to behave in such a manner. His right hand and arm were heavily bandaged and her brother was obviously frightened about something. So, she asked, “What happened? What has you so upset?”

     Matt considered the question for a long moment, sitting very still, almost trance-like and turning very pale. Suddenly, he arose and lurched toward the kitchen sink, violently emptying the contents of his stomach into the oversize stainless steel sink.

     Liz, as alarmed as she was concerned, tentatively asked, “Matt, are you OK?”

     Wiping his face with a cold towel, sheepishly he answered, “I’m OK now.” Sitting back down, he continued, “I’d better tell you what this is all about. You may not feel so good either after I tell you the story.”

    Quickly recovering her usual assertiveness, Liz stated, “So tell it.”

    This time Matt did not hesitate. Quickly he began speaking, saying “It started a little over two weeks ago. You know Ronnie Thomas don’t you?” 

     “Yeah, he’s that friend of yours.”

     “That’s right. Well, he’s dead.”