Deal With It By: Audrey B. Holley

Chapter 18

My mom and dad are at work, so it is only David and I. My brother unremittingly wears a smile, after all, tomorrow is his favorite day of the year.

"Oh man! Oh man! Oh man!" He flutters his hands in eagerness, and moves as if he has to pee really bad.

"Why are you so hyper?" I question, but I already understand. I just know he loves to tell about it.

"Because!" His irises gleam with much enthusiasm. "Tomorrow is Christmas! I'm so excited! It's finally here!" David bends his extensive legs as if he's going to jump. His energy is so evident that I can almost feel it myself.

Sometimes I think he's just a kid that grew too fast. His infantile mind lags behind, lost in his childhood years, while his body responds to the cycle of developing into a teenaged man.

Some people say he's retarded.

By the time our parents sugar coated the name calling by saying my brother was slower than most, I knew he was special.

Which makes me remember the day I was seven and he was ten...

I am sitting at the kitchen counter, staring out the wide view of the screen back door. I watch as David stumbles amongst the grassy backyard, poking his fingers in the mud after a rainy morning. My mom whips up an aspirin for my headache.

"Mom?" I glance to my dangling feet, and then to her face.

"Yes sweetheart?"

I flutter my eyes, feeling as if I might cry, but I'm not sure why. "How come the kids at school say David is retarded?"

She stops what she is doing, and looks at me. "We don't use the word retarded in this house." She sets the pill cutter on the counter, and pulls me off the chair. She takes me to the bathroom, and orders me to sit on the toilet lid.

"What are you looking for mommy? It's just retarded." But I don't know any better.

"Don't say that." Her soft features seem to twist into a deep frown that roots into her clenched teeth.

"What? Retarded?"

"I said don't!" She slaps my mouth, and finds a bar of soap.

My lips sting from the hit and the bitter taste of hand wash. My eyes swell, but I manage to keep the tears hidden. She crouches in front of me.

"I'm sorry, but that is a bad name. Mean little girls and boys call people that who have dissabilities. David is just..." she thinks to herself a moment. "He's just slower than most kids. He's specail. Now I better not hear you say that ever again, do you understand?"

I nod.

Later that night I went to my brothers room to find him sitting cross legged on his bed staring at nothing. His chest is bare and his blue eyes are wide in wonderment. 

"Bubby? What are you doing?" My hand is on the door knob, and I am standing here in my night gown.

"Oh nothing really. Just thinking about those kids at school."

He doesn't sound or look retarded to me. He sighs and touches a spot on his bed, motioning for me to close the door, and come sit with him. 

He turns to me when I have climbed up next to him. "I want to show you something." He lifts his pajama pant leg so I can take a gander at what he wants to share with me. I see a red mark that cuts from his knee all the way down to his ankle.