When we were wallflowers

15

His blue eyes stared into mine, and I looked at him carefully. I didn't bother to move my eyes and just continued watching him. "What will you do?" I asked. "You know what!" He spoke. "I could have made more," he told. He began to reach for the last piece of pancake, and I felt our papa staring at us.

"Not the point!" Alfred spoke.

"Rock paper scissors?" I asked.

"You're on!" Alfred spoke. He pushed his hands in front of me, and we continued to stare. We quickly moved our fists up and down and threw our hand signals. I made my fist into a rock, and he made his fist into scissors. He always picked scissors, so I knew what I would do.

"What?' How do you always do that!"

"Lucky guess," I laughed. Alfred began to eat his eggs, and his eyes widened. I took the last pancake and turned to papa, who watched us with a smile. He was drinking his morning coffee and had his work clothes on.

"What?" I asked. I began to eat the pancake, and he began to chew his food fast. "Swallow, child! What is it?" Papa asked. Alfred nodded and quickly swallowed and drank some of his juice. "We should celebrate thanksgiving," he spoke.

Eh? Thanksgiving?

"What? Only Americans celebrate that," papa spoke.

"We are Americans now!"

"I guess you are technically right, but we don't even know what the holiday celebrates. They eat a bunch of food," I spoke. "Apparently, they give thanks for the year before," Alfred smiled. "We should do it! Papa, do you know how to make a turkey?" Alfred added with excitement.

"Turkey? Yeah, I do..."

"Oh yes! We have to celebrate now!" Alfred cheered. I laughed at his excitement and looked to papa, who just shrugged in acceptance. "Okay then, but isn't the holiday in November? It is barely October," papa spoke.

"Yes! We have a month to prepare!" Alfred cheered. This was the happiest I had ever seen him in a long time. "Alright, I guess it could be fun," I spoke. Alfred began to rock himself back and forth in his chair, and we looked at him, concerned. He was laughing and cheering and was extremely excited.

Every day, Alfred seems happy, but it isn't the same as it used to be. This excitement reminded me of how energetic he used to be. This might be a perfect way to get his head out of the clouds.

On the day of the accident, papa and I realized how long they were taking. I wonder if maybe we went to look for them, our dad would have been alive. We knew the store they went to; this wasn't the first time they'd gone there. They usually took twenty minutes max. However, after twenty-five minutes, I noticed. I thought it was odd and assumed they were taking their time. Then the time began to increase, and papa saw.

Alfred never talks about the events that led to it or if he saw anything. It was a traumatizing event, although papa and I wanted to know. We know that we could not just ask him about what happened.

Out of all the things that happened that night. The most horrifying thing that I witnessed wasn't Alfred in the hospital or seeing the car being destroyed. It wasn't hearing that my dad was killed. It was something I didn't expect would haunt me for the rest of my life.

It was when papa found out.

That was the first and last time he cried.

At the funeral, I watched as papa lay his husband to rest, and there were still no tears. I can't explain how much sorrow he had as he looked at our dad inside that wooden box.

Our dad was buried with his usual clothes on. Papa placed some of his belongings with him and a little envelope. I wasn't sure what it was exactly, but I'm sure it was just a letter he wrote to our dad.

I looked over to our papa and smiled at him.

"I'm assuming our uncles are coming to Christmas? Including Gilbert and Antonio? What about Aunt Lucille?" Alfred asked. "They are all coming, don't worry," papa smiled. "Great!" Alfred replied.

"Matthew, do you want to stop for ice cream after school?" Alfred asked. "Yeah, we can; I don't see why not," I smiled. "Make sure to text me! Remember! If you need anything! Anything! Call me! I will stop what I'm doing," papa spoke.

"Yes, we know, don't worry," I smiled at him. I had my club meeting today, but I don't think it will take longer. "Have you looked through the sports pamphlets or club logs?" I asked Alfred. We both got a packet of extracurricular when we first started. "Yeah, although I want to do a sport, I wouldn't mind being in a club," he began.

"Oh? Like what?" Papa asked.

"Art..."

Alfred had his cheek resting on the palm of his hand and played with his food. I immediately stopped eating, the room went silent, and I slowly looked up at him. "Are—Are you sure?" Papa asked.

I thought he hated Art... I wonder what changed. "Well, I was thinking about it a lot...how I want to draw again. I wasn't the best at it, but I figured it would help?" He spoke, unsure.

I looked at papa, and he smiled at him. Personally, I was worried about him being in Art. When he started destroying his things, it scared the hell out of me. I would sit in the closet and cover my ears to think about something else. Then I started sneaking out and running away so I wouldn't have to be reminded of everything.

It sucked pretty badly. "What do you think? Mattie?" He asked. I looked up at him, and he smiled, yet his eyes were filled with sadness. Maybe it could help him?

"I think that's a great idea! I can't wait for you to start!" I smiled. His eyes suddenly lit up, and he began to rock himself back and forth again. "Yay! If Mattie is okay with it, I am super excited now!" He cheered. I laughed at his behavior, and he deserved everything good in the world.