Blinders

Chapter Five: 20 Dollar Nose Bleed

Mikey's P.O.V.

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"Michelle, what happened to your face?"

I sighed and put the my fork down. "I got in a fight during lunch. The school nurse said I should see a doctor."

My father nodded and said, "Well, you know that we don't believe in doctors in this house, Michelle, we believe in--"

"The healing power of Jesus," I finished under my breath. He frowned at me. 

"Yes, we do, Michelle. Is that a problem?"

"Nooo, not at all."

My brother, Tate, quickly stuffed a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. "Tate, please slow down," my mother said in a quavering voice.

"But it's so good, mother dearest!" he said, his eyes widening.

"Tate! Respect your mother!"

"I hate this family," he muttered. He stood, turned to the open window, and yelled, "Hate it!" After a moment of hesitation, he added, "Except Mikey. Mikey's cool."

"TAAATE!" my father roared.

"Peace out!" he said, ducking out the back door and slamming it behind him. 

My other brother, Ezekiel, quietly put his fork and knife down and murmured, "Let's get on with it without him."

"That damn boy," my father complained. "Okay."

Ezekiel grabbed my hand, and my mother reached across Tate's empty seat to take my other one. My father bowed his head and mumbled, "Dear Father, please heal Michelle's head as your healed Your Son after He lay dead for three days. Please heal her injuries and protect her from further harm. In Jesus's name we pray. Amen."

"Amen," my mother and brother chorused. 

I half wished that Tate had stayed. At the end of praying, he'd jump up and shout, "Amen! Ay-y-y-men! Hallelu! Praise the good Lord above!", and I could've used a laugh.

"Other than that, Michelle, how was your day?" Mother asked.

"MIKEY. And I guess it was okay. I met a girl, Cassie-"

"Cassandra di Angelo? I don't want you to be spending time with her. I've heard rumors that she's a HOMOSEXUAL!"

I looked up and asked, "Isn't gossip condemned by the Bible?"

He turned red and started stuttering. "Excuse me," I added, and dashed out of tne front door, shouting, "TATE!"

He glanced down from the garden shed, a cigarette clamped between his teeth. "Mi-key!" he called, jumping down. "Didja piss him off, too?"

"Yeah. Those'll kill you, you know."

"What, these?" he asked, wiggling the cigarette. "So will stress, but I don't see you leaving the family."

I sighed and scuffled my feet.

"C'mon," Tate said. "Let's go for a walk."

We crossed the side street we lived on and trudged through a small patch of woods until we reached a quietly tumbling brook. "So, now what?" I asked.

"Now," Tate said, "we swim."

He kicked off his shoes, backed up the hill we'd walked down, and took a running jump into the river.

"Tate! That's cold!" I gasped as the water sloshed over my shoes.

"Come on! It's what brothers do!"