• Omnipotence
• Brandon Haffner (bio)

It was late and Aaron was drinking too much wine, and he was trying to remember what it was Keith had said about goodness that hot day decades ago when they were kids, the same day their father threatened to smack them both. It was something simple, teetering on cliché. In the moment, Aaron probably spit into his brother's face. But silently, the way kids do, he vowed to remember what Keith said forever. The yard was slick with mud from the sprinkler they'd left running—they'd drowned the lawn that summer, and that day wasn't the first their father emerged red-faced onto the back porch, glass brimming with gin and melted ice. After their father finished flexing and went inside, Aaron joked, We'd better be good, and it was then that Keith said, Being good's not good enough for Dad. There it was—over the years, "for Dad" had fallen away, so the line became, Being good's not good enough, which meant that in the garden of Aaron's memory, his brother's words had taken root and grown twisted into something else, something like an excuse.

Here's something else Aaron remembered: the next summer, [End Page 384] the hard, grassless yard cracking under the August sun, a game of baseball with neighbor kids. Keith was pitching, their sister Tara was catcher, and Aaron struck out. Keith grinned. That's all—a mocking grin. Eager, Aaron figured, to make his older brother feel small. Aaron had meant only to intimidate with a near-miss swing of the bat, but instead Keith wound up in the hospital for two days—serious bone and nerve damage, the doctor told them in the waiting room. And how the doctor shot her eyes at Aaron when she said the word damage.

But now wasn't the time for those thoughts because Aaron and Keith and Keith's wife, Jeanie, were sitting around the dinner table. Keith was thirty-two now, with dark eyes and a patchy brown mustache, recently returned from the Peace Corps—a new adventure he'd called it, after his manuscript was never picked up and the college terminated his contract. They ate their salmon, and the orange sunset slipped through the blinds. As memories of childhood summers ran through Aaron on loop, he watched these two people he knew so well. No one made eye contact.

"In the village," Keith said, squeezing a lemon wedge over his salmon and then, with his other hand, wafting the smell of the food into his nose, "we had no access to fish. I don't think I saw a single fish, dead or alive, in two years."

"Aaron," Jeanie said. She glanced at the carrot-ginger soup at the end of the table, and Aaron passed her the bowl.

"We ate what's called paloo," Keith continued. "Do you know what that is? Paloo?"

"I don't know," Aaron said.

"Raisins, garlic, hot peppers, rice. Throw it in a pot. Simmer for a few hours over a fire." Keith smiled dramatically, closed his eyes, nodded in approval at the imaginary flavors in his mouth, then sipped his chardonnay. "Really stellar. The Kyrgyz can cook." [End Page 385]

"But do you like your fish?" Jeanie asked.

"Of course," he said. "I'll be honest, I feel odd eating it. Like an asshole, you know? But I'm adjusting. It's like Christmas at our parents', when I came back last year. I told you about this feeling, Aar." The way he'd always abbreviated Aaron's name sounded like Air. "I forget why you couldn't make it up."

"Holiday party in Los Angeles," Aaron said. "Some old musician friends."

"I do, I feel like an asshole, stuffing my face with this—how much was this?" He pointed to the slab of fish decorated with spices, citrus wheels, and cilantro in the center of the table. "Fifty, sixty dollars?"

Aaron pretended to cough. "We can't all live in poverty."

"There's the cocky kid I know," Keith said. He raised his glass and smiled, mock-cheerful, and Aaron thought...

• 万能
• 布兰登·哈夫纳（生物）

天色已经晚了，亚伦喝了太多的酒，他试图回想起基思说过的话，那是几十年前炎热的一天，当时他们还小的时候，他们的父亲扬言要殴打他们俩。这很简单，在陈词滥调上摇摇欲坠。此刻，亚伦可能会吐在他哥哥的脸上。但是他无声地以孩子们的方式发誓要记住基思永远说的话。他们院子里放着的洒水车上的泥土使光滑的土地变得光滑-那年夏天他们淹死了草坪，那一天并不是他们父亲第一次红脸露在后门廊上，酒杯里充满了杜松子酒和融化的冰。在他们的父亲完成屈伸运动并进去之后，亚伦开玩笑说：“我们最好做个好人，然后基思说：“做人对父亲还不够好。在那里-多年来，

亚伦还记得其他一些东西：第二年夏天，[End Page 384]在八月的阳光下开裂的坚硬，无草的院子，与邻居的孩子们打了一场棒球。基思（Keith）在投球，他们的姐姐塔拉（Tara）是接球手，而亚伦（Aaron）大发雷霆。基思咧嘴一笑。仅此而已–令人嘲笑的笑容。亚伦想，渴望使他的哥哥变小。医生在候诊室告诉他们，亚伦只想吓a一下蝙蝠，但基思在医院受伤了两天，严重的骨骼和神经受损。以及当她说出伤害一词时，医生怎么盯着亚伦。

但是现在不是那些想法的时候了，因为亚伦和基思以及基思的妻子珍妮坐在餐桌旁。基思现在已经三十二岁了，黑眼睛，有斑点的棕色胡须，最近从和平军团回来了。在他的手稿从未被拿走并且大学终止了他的合同之后，他称之为新的冒险。他们吃了鲑鱼，橙色的夕阳从百叶窗中溜走了。随着对童年夏天的回忆不断流过亚伦，他看着这两个熟识的人。没有人目光接触。

“在村子里，”基思说，在他的鲑鱼上挤了一块柠檬楔子，然后用另一只手把食物的气味吹到他的鼻子里，“我们没有鱼吃。我想我没有看到两年内，一条鱼死了还是活着。”

“亚伦，”珍妮说。她瞥了一眼桌尾的胡萝卜姜汤，亚伦把碗递给了她。

“我们吃了所谓的帕卢”，基思继续说道。“你知道那是什么吗？帕卢？”

“我不知道，”亚伦说。

“葡萄干，大蒜，辣椒，米饭。把它扔进锅里。在火上S几个小时。” 基思戏剧性地笑了笑，闭上了眼睛，对他口中虚幻的味道点头表示赞同，然后了霞多丽。“真的很出色。吉尔吉斯人会做饭。” [结束页385]

“但是你喜欢你的鱼吗？” 珍妮问。

“当然，”他说。“说实话，我吃起来很奇怪。就像一个混蛋，你知道吗？但是我正在调整。这就像去年我回到父母的圣诞节一样。我告诉了你这种感觉，Aar。 ” 他总是缩写Aaron的名字听起来像Air。“我忘记了你为什么不能弥补这一点。”

亚伦说：“在洛杉矶举行的假日聚会。” “一些老音乐家朋友。”

“是的，我觉得自己像个混蛋，用这个塞满了我的脸-这是多少钱？” 他指着桌子中央装饰着香料，柑桔轮和香菜的鱼鳞。“五十，六十美元？”

亚伦假装咳嗽。“我们不能都生活在贫困中。”

“我认识一个自大的孩子，”基思说。他举起酒杯，微笑着，开心地笑着，亚伦想...