As his brother and father argued about a referee's call, Brad lifted into the air, hoping to slip out of the room as quickly as he could and wait for his husband's return.
The instant he flew, his wings buzzed. The buzz sounded too loud, even to him, and he hoped that the volume of the television might somehow mask his whereabouts.
"Oh no...don't let them hear me," he thought.
He made for the doorway that led out of the living room and into the corridor. He already had in mind his destination and zipped across the room, through the doorway and into the shadowy corridor. He listened, but didn't dare look back, as Sal kept insisting the call was wrong.
"What was that?" Jim asked, having picked up a hint of the buzz from the fly's wings. "You hear that?"
Brad flew faster.
"Keep him distracted, Sal," Brad thought as he flew the length of the corridor before veering right and into a spacious room of blue and white tiles, gleaming white towers and an enormous cubicle of frosted glass and chrome. After a few circles around the huge space, Brad landed on a surface of knotty tendrils of fabric. The fly sensed the smell of soap and a floral aroma from a stadium-sized basket of potpourri.
A mirror over the sink reflected back a tidy scene of a soap dish, basket of potpourri, and a stack of folded towels. The tiny black fly atop the towels barely registered in the glass.
Brad ceased moving his wings, silencing the tell-tale buzz.
"If I'm lucky, I can just wait here for Mark to..."
He didn't even get to finish his thought. A giant strode into the room, sneakers shaking the tile floor with each impact of their rubber soles. Brad froze in place, watching Sal close the door behind him. He didn't feel as alarmed as he might have been if his Papi had walked into the bathroom carrying a can of bug spray. He waited, an insect voyeur, to determine Sal's intent.
Sal didn't approach the sink, which delighted the watching fly, but positioned himself in front of the toilet and unzipped. An instant later, Brad heard the sounds of splashing in the deep ceramic bowl.
"Oh!" Brad realized the reason for the visit and decided to wait out his sibling. "If I am lucky, he'll finish and just leave."
Even when Sal finished, zipped up, and moved to the sink, the fly refused to flinch, remaining atop the towel, its five good legs clinging to frayed cotton fibers.
Another stream of water began and Sal reached for the bar of soap in a dish the size of a small house in relation to the watching insect. The sudden motion from Sal's hands was too much! The action triggered a spontaneous buzz as Brad's wings twitched, but he shut it down quickly.
It had been enough. Sal heard the shrill whiny buzz and spotted the puny insect. He kept running his hands beneath the water, but he noticed something useful as he finished. One hand wrapped around a simple glass tumbler kept next to the toothbrush holder. His intent eluded the insect until it was too late.
The glass dropped with a softened whoosh on top of the fly, which then reacted in blind panic, buzzing and banging against the glass walls.
Sal released his hold on the glass, lowered his face, and chuckled as he watched the antics of the entrapped insect.
"Sal!" Brad slammed against the smooth glass and was knocked onto the soft towel. "Sal! Let me out!"
The fly sprang back into the action, flying repeatedly against the glass, begging his brother for assistance without managing to make any sound other than the buzzing of his wings and the soft thuds from colliding again and again with the glass walls.
"Sal! It's me!"