All Just Humans

3

Before school starts again on Monday, my mom takes me and my younger brother Jason to the mall. My mother is very firm in the belief that Christmas presents should be bought as early as possible, so she is completing her final sweep of the mall before the season hits the rest of the world in full swing. She has been complaining since we both got our own jobs that we needed to pay for our own Christmas presents for other people instead of her paying for them. Her beliefs about the holiday season have become so entrenched in our family that we all buy Christmas presents early, but Jason and I are the worst about it. We learned the hard way last year that we have to buy stuff for others or we won't get any car privileges for a few weeks, and so the minute we enter the mall our mother walks in one direction and Jason and I zoom off in the other. The only problem with Jason and I is that not only do we hate shopping, but we shop in very different ways. I need very little to live happily in this world and Jason seems to have a pathological need to accumulate stuff. He has always gone a bit haywire in what he buys; it doesn't matter what he is supposed to be buying, who he is supposed to be buying for, or how much money he has, because he will spend way too much and will buy so many things for himself.

I don't have any incentive to stop him from walking into whatever store he wants. He is supposed to be buying something for Sean both as a wedding gift for the spring and a Christmas present for Sean, his wife, and the rest of our family, but he walks into a game stop anyway. I don't say anything until he pulls a call of duty game off the shelf and starts to intently examine the back cover.

Are you aware that you make up about half of this store's income even though you only make, like, seven dollars an hour at McDonalds? I ask as I lean against the shelves full of games. Jason reaches past me to grab a game next to my head.

You didn't make much more when you worked at the Build-A-Bear, he pointed out, still dissolved in the game. I don't know how you survive without an income. I would go crazy if I didn't have the things I've bought.

Oh I'm very aware, I answer, glancing towards the front of the store. I wanted to remind him how I didn't work anymore because I got fired for scaring children because I was so skinny, and how I already spend enough time going insane, but I can't. I love Jason, and we tell each other a lot, but if he knew everything that went on in my head he would be terrified.

Aren't we supposed to be buying Christmas presents for our brothers and sisters? I ask, my tone slightly more insistent this time. Jason rolls his eyes before sighing and putting the game back on the shelf. The rules are unwritten, but they're still there; I'm the older sister by one year and 76 days, and he has to listen to me.

We walk out of the store and travel down the escalator to the Hot Topic. Our sister Rosie has lately become obsessed with punk and metal bands, an obsession that was very similar to mine back in eighth grade. All she has put on her Christmas list this year is band t-shirts and other band merch, and this is the only store that isn't the internet that Jason and I know sells the stuff. Upon entering he picks up a Fall Out Boy t-shirt and tosses it at me.

Do you think she'll like this?

I don't even need to look at it to know the answer. She won't, I reply. The colors are too dark.

It's a metal band how can the colors be "too dark?"

Just because she listens to the music doesn't mean she's emo dude. Let her listen to whatever she wants, there's no prescription for who likes what.

He scrunches his eyebrows up and takes the shirt back. I just think it's a little strange that a fifteen year old girl listens to music with screaming people in it. Aren't you guys supposed to like things like boy bands at that age?

You listened to Taylor Swift religiously when you were thirteen, I remind him. I don't think you're in a place to judge.

Jason blushes and puts the shirt back on the shelf. After glowering around for a few minutes he asks, won't it be a little hard to find shirts for these bands that aren't dark? Regardless of music choices and Rosie, aren't their trademarks sort of black and death-like?

I shrug and ignore his question, not wanting to get into another argument over clothes with him. I know for a fact that they do make shirts that aren't all black because I owned some of them, but he doesn't know that or care enough to ask. We wander around the store for a few more minutes. He occasionally picks up a shirt that I usually shake my head at. After I shake my head at a gray Black Veil Brides Shirt he throws it back on the table and sighs at me in an exasperated manner.

Aren't these stupid bands the things that got you where you are now? he asks as he sifts through another pile of shirts. I'm momentarily taken aback. Jason has never attacked my mental illness like that. He's always been the most supportive brother next to Sean, but now I'm reminded that he's a person too, and he's a person who hasn't deal with what I have every day. He doesn't understand it.

He keeps going. I mean you would sit for hours in the back of the car when we were driving listening to these metal bands with all their lyrics about suicide and death and-

That's bullshit, I mumble, yanking a shirt out of his hands. He stares at me. I never curse. If anything these bands were the things that kept me from completely losing control and killing myself. The lyrics aren't about death or whatever, they're about conquering fear and hate and all the other stuff that plagued me everyday. Sure, maybe the isolation didn't help, but these bands were my heroes. Still are my heroes. You may not understand it, but don't you dare try and take it away from Rosie.

Jason blushes and looks out across the store. There is a teenage boy at the table across from us, and I am pretty sure that he just heard our whole conversation. He stares at me, but his eyes don't carry any judgement. Briefly I wonder if he's been the same thing, my inference coming from the glean of approval in his eyes, but then he looks back down at the shirts on his table and doesn't look back up.

I'm sorry, Jason mutters, his hand unmoving on the My Chemical Romance t-shirt he's holding. I just hate shopping.

I nod and blow a piece of hair out of my eyes. My heart is beating a million miles a minute. I feel like I've just run a marathon, and I feel like it shouldn't take that much out of me to stand up for myself. The feeling is alien.

Let's get out of here, I suggest. Without waiting for an answer I walk out of the store and hope he follows me. A minute later the two of us are standing in the brightly lit hall surrounded by fake Christmas trees and garlands.

Do you wanna go get some food or something? he asks me, clearly still embarrassed. I smile slightly and shake my head.

It won't be good for me, I explain using as few words as possible. If you want something though I'll pay.

He grins. Does that mean if I ask for Cheesecake Factory I'll get it.

No way in Hell. We laugh as we lean against the railing that separates us from a drop to the bottom floor. Below us Santa is sitting in a chair with kids filing in to see him. It find it strange that the mall has already employed a Santa in mid-November, but whatever.

Let's go to the Lego store and get a gift for Camden, I suggest. That should lead to less arguing about my life choices.

I really am sorry-

It's alright. I can't expect you to get everything. Jason nods, turns, and walks away. I follow quickly, but not quickly enough to see the look on his face.