The Red Son

Ankle Weights

Photo by Janine Meuche on Unsplash

If he had it to do over again,which he didn’t, Alden Kodrell wouldn’t have cried the very first time, when he reported “Mom, Allen burned my socks.”

The Kodrell boys were identical twins, Alden out first by seven minutes.

From the start, they were so identical that The Kodrells color coded their wardrobe.

Alden, quite randomly, was the yellow son, and Allen the red.

The first time Allen burned Alden’s socks with a Scripto lighter the stoner kids left on Walker’s brick wall, the time Alden cried, Nancy Kodrell said “You’re certainly mistaken, Alden. Don’t fib.”

The fifth or sixth time Allen burned Alden’s socks, nine year old Allen had his own lighter, which he stashed under the commemorative brick that marked where Mrs. Scymanski buried her African Grey.

Alden even retrieved the white lighter in a vain attempt to prove Allen had done it.

Nancy Kodrell’s response was “Alden, you’ve got no business handling a disposable lighter.

Nancy started to notice Alden was developing compulsive tendencies, was extremely possessive of his things, and though she adored the fact that he was neater and tidier than Allen, she took him to see a therapist, mentioning, of course, that Alden fibbed about his brother.

***

Alden Kodrell dressed for court. He woke at dawn to do so, both nervous about seeing his mother for the first time in a decade, and nervous about his wardrobe.

***

Nancy Kodrell dressed for court. Her prepared speech had tear stains smudging some of the blue ink. She texted her attorney to see if she would have a secretary type one up so it looked nice.

If either of her little boys would have lost their mind, she thought for sure it would have been Alden.

Obsessively neat, fastidious…how did one live like that? Prone to tantrums if things didn’t go his way.

There were five pictures of Allen in Nancy Kodrell Gaitling’s home. Allen in his football uniform, Allen making Eagle Scout, Allen always smiling, achieving.

There was one picture of Alden, cut from the Swanson, Indiana Senior High Yearbook.

“Best Dressed.”

Nancy hoped her son might go into fashion.

She donned her pale blue dress, the one that the lawyer said would make her sympathetic to the court.

She hadn’t cried in days. She told herself crying wouldn’t help.

Passing the picture of Alden in the hall, she hoped she would see him, Alden didn’t return her calls, texts, or letters. Nancy hoped that Alden would speak on his brother’s behalf.He was a government worker, the post office, that still carried some weight, right?

Nancy kissed the picture of Allen in his football uniform, her husband Don Gaitling draped his arm around her and helped her to the car.

Don was such a sweet man. Maybe he could speak to Alden and she could rekindle her relationship with her son.

Don carried the briefcase with the bibles and the letters of apology Nancy had written to the families of the four people who died when Allen Kodrell set fire to the Sierra Valley Assisted Living Center.

Allen was guilty. At today’s sentencing he could be sentenced to death by lethal injection.

Nancy Kodrell Gaitling had made peace with the fact that her son might spend the rest of his life in prison, but she couldn’t bear the thought of the government executing her 33 year old son. She had her prepared remarks in the pocket of her blue cardigan sweater. She would answer any questions anyone had. Her son didn’t deserve to die.

Her eyes watched everyone who walked through the door. She wanted to see Alden, hug him, ask him to beg for the life of his twin brother.

Lawyers and bereaved family clutching photos filtered in.

A man walked through the door and Nancy gasped. It was most certainly Alden, but he had cut his hair very short and bleached it blonde.

The minute she wondered why he did it, her brain answered her own question: 

Because he didn’t want to look identical to a man who had set fire to an assisted living center.

Alden stood at the doorway, next to a bailiff. He looked confused, maybe frightened. 

Don looked at his wife.

“Alden?” 

She nodded.

“I’m going to go introduce myself.”

Nancy was staring at her son.

Something struck her as odd. 

Don Gailtling took a step forward and Nancy grabbed his belt.

“No…honey…no. He doesn’t want to talk to us.”

Don respected his wife’s wishes and sat back down.

Alden Kodrell was in a perfectly tailored suit, his pants impeccably pleated, and only his mother would notice that he wasn’t wearing any socks.

***

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