The Silent War

The Deceiving

VANESSA

I could tell that there was something... fishy about Jonathan. But, I decided to put the feeling away, as he would be my brother from now on. Once I was able to reach my room, I decided it could use a few touches. So, I set my suitcase on the bed, making a faint noise as I did so. Then, I unlocked it and took out my belongings. Inside were a few sweaters, a pair of sneakers and a few jeans. Once I put them away in my closet, I took out the one thing that actually had value, a portrait of my father and mother.

I sat on the bed and stared longily at the picture. The two smiling Salvadorans looked so happy together. I bet they didn't know what would happen the next day, the day before my 10th birthday.

I could still remember the emergency room, the smell of hand sanitizer, the sight of distressed doctors, the sound of machines droning or the indistinct speech from the adoults around me. But, worst of all, was seeing my mother there, helpless and dying. I could still remember my mother's last words. She said them right after giving me her necklace, which had both my parents' wedding rings.

"Please," she whispered in a raspy voice, "don't... forget that... I... love you." And with that I saw the life leave her eyes. Her pulse went still, and her body went limp. I could feel the warmth leave her hand, the hand that I was grabbing and squeezing. She went to join my father, who died at the site of the crash.

As I thought about my memory, I didn't notice my vision blurring from my tears. Both my heart and stomach felt like they entered zero gravity. I couldn't bear it any longer. I could no longer hold back. I just let my tears roll down my face. I felt free, I no longer had to put up a façade, I could let go. As more tears streamed down my already tear-streaked face, I heard a knock at the doorway. I looked up after wiping my tears off of my face. At the doorway was a poker-faced Jonathan. If this boy had any sympathy, he surely did not like to show it.

"Yes," I said after sniffing a few times, "how can I help you?" Surprisingly, kindness flowed into his voice. His eyes had a glint, a caring feeling, I hoped. He came over and sat down. Then, he stared at the picture in my hand.

     "Who are they?" Jonathan said in an inquiring voice.

     "My parents," I said solemnly.

     "But," Jonathan started.

     "They died," I said again. My heart felt heavy, my palms were getting sweaty, and I could feel tears start to form in my eyes, blurring my vision. Jonathan put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

     He looked into my eyes and said, "Don't cry, I know this family will never replace yours, but at least it isn't a dysfunctional one."

     He was right. I knew that I could never change the past, nor know the future. So, I had to make the best I could from the present. And, I knew I was lucky to have loving parents, a great home and a great brother.