Everything Changes in a Breath

5

I try to sit with my mother, to find a way to comfort her. I really do, but there is a wall of silence built between us, an impenetrable wall made of hurt and denial. And that silence we have allowed to enter our home is just so loud. I know that doesn't make sense to you, or even hardly to me for that matter, but it is true. The silence swallows me and it engulfs me; where I should hear giggles escaping from behind the couch, I hear nothing. Where I should hear his tiny footsteps, no noise comes forth. So, instead, after I have made sure that the house is in proper order, I slip up to my room, in hopes that the darkness could hide my pain. But, alas, sleep is not to be any solace for me, because every time I close my eyes, I can only see Joey, and how he used to be, and it tears my heart out. I sit up on the edge of my bed, forcibly reminding myself how to breathe.

Inhale Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

But that's not enough, because I'm still wheezing; I grab my hair with one hand, pulling it, and I press the heel of the other to the bridge of my nose. My body rocks back and forth, back and forth in an unconscious effort to soothe myself.

I slip out of my room and tiptoe down the hall into Joey's room. As soon as I step inside, I can feel his presence. I haven't been in here since he was admitted to the hospital, and I thought that when I did, that I would break down, but its not like that. Instead, I feel close to him, closer than I ever have before. Knick-knacks litter his shelves; army men, superhero figurines, and miniature safari animal statues line the top of his light-stained hickory dresser Gently, I sit down on the edge of his sloppily made bed, smoothing his favorite Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle bedspread.

Sitting here, in his room, memories flood my mind in snippets. Like the time he said his first word (Mama). Like the time he took his first steps (moments later, he tumbled to the ground. He just laughed. He wasn't like other children, I guess.)

Like the time I said I hated him.

FLASHBACK

" Ahhhrrrrrghhhh! I'm going to kiiiilllll you!" I screamed down the hall.

My art project. Ruined. Tiny fingerprints in all colors smeared the painting I had spent weeks, WEEKS I tell you, working on. I kept thinking how proud Mrs. Cruz was going to be when she examined my beautiful watercolor. It was a Tuesday.

It was due that Wednesday.

I tore out of my room, and I stumbled down the stairs, almost knocking my mother over at the base of them. "Woah, woah, slow down there speedy." She said,her voice like tinkling bells. I flipped my long dark hair over my shoulder. "I'm going to KILL him," I growl.

"Kill who?"

"Joey." I craned my neck to look around her, and saw Joey standing in the doorway, halfway in the kitchen. "You hear that, you little brat?  I'm going to kill you!" My voice cracks as I scream at him.

"Why are you threatening your little brother? He's sick. Leave alone. I'm sure you're overreacting."

"But-"

"No 'buts'."

"I hate you Josiah!, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

"Aislin Edith MacGregor!" My mother snapped. "Go to your room."

I stomped up the staircase, and flop down on my bed.

END FLASHBACK