The Trio

-II-

                    "Ding-dong...ding-dong...ding-dong..." I woke slowly, peeling open my eyes. A trail of drool dripped from my open mouth onto the pillow I slept upon and scrunching my nose in disgust, I wiped it away with my hand. I forced myself to sit up, wincing as I placed pressure on my bottom. I was in Dad's bed? What...?

The clock chimed eight and I remembered everything. The spanking, Dylan screaming, Dad arguing. I slumped back down to the bed. I groaned and put a hand over my stomach. Oh I was starving to death! Sitting back up, I slipped from the bed and padded out of the room quietly.

I started down the hall, stopping by my open bedroom door. Peeking carefully around the corner, I witnessed Dad sitting on Dylan's bed with Dylan's head lying in his lap, Dad running his hand through my older brother's dark hair.

Dad was whispering something, but I couldn't hear the words. Dylan's shoulders were shaking lightly, and though his face was turned away from me, I was sure tears were rolling down his cheeks. He said something back, but through the tears in his voice and the quiet tone he was using, I couldn't make them out either. I saw Dylan's bedside lamp on the ground, broken pieces scattered about the floor and knew now the source of the breaking sound. Dylan and Dad never mentioned the lamp and I never actually found out what had happened that evening.

Dad noticed me and looked up. He smiled wearily and with his head, gestured for me to go to the kitchen. I nodded and tip-toed away. The mac'n'cheese was ready, sitting on the stove, but it was cold, so I turned on the burner to heat it back up.

Reaching up into the cupboard, I grabbed out three bowls, spoons, and glasses. Then acquiring the milk from the fridge, set in on the table with the other dishes. Five minutes later Dad came in. "Hey buddy," He said, tussling my hair. I looked up at him. Dad looked tired.

"Dylan?" I asked quietly. "He's fine, me and him had a nice long talk. He should be in soon." Dad said, spooning the food into two of the bowls. I glanced at Dad questioningly. Dad shook his head. "He said he didn't want to eat, and I'm not going to force him." I nodded. "Dad, did you spank Dylan again?" I asked. Dad sighed and nodded. "Yes son, I did; did you hear it?" I shook my head. "No, I was asleep," There was a little bit of silence.

Dad handed me the bowls and I set them on the table. "Is he still mad at you?" "No, we discussed it, and he isn't anymore." After a minute I asked softly. "Is he mad at me?" Dad took my arm and pulled me into a hug. "No son, he knows it wasn't your fault, okay?" I nodded and rested my head against Dad's chest.

Finally, Dylan came in. I looked up timidly at him. Dad looked at Dylan and gestured to me. Dylan rubbed his tear-stained face and after a moment, said in a voice barley over a whisper. "Uh, Caden, I'm sorry for y-yelling at you and s-s-saying it was your fault. It isn't, this is all my fault, I was the one that got you into this. I'm s-sorry...will y-y-you forgive me?" I nodded. Dylan looked at Dad and our father nodded at him. Turning around, Dylan walked back to our bedroom and closed the door.

Dylan didn't speak to me that night, nor the next day or the one after that if he could avoid it, he barely even looked at me. On normal days where he always woke early to walk me to school three miles past his, Dylan slept in, leaving me to walk alone. Meals were quiet and slightly awkward, Dylan talked little and then when he did, it was only to Dad. Dad noticed the tension between us both, and several times tried to address it, but Dylan never changed. It was as though I was a stranger, unknown to my very brother.

Soon I began to think he hated me, and I grew moody, snappish, and brash. I was constantly getting into fights with kids, being disrespectful to adults, landing myself into trouble, hanging out with the wrong kinds of people, and at home, when I wasn't in my room, ignoring Dad, I was arguing back and forth with him. Oh, I was running fast down that wrong road.