To Be

Chapter Four

Every Wednesday night is family night out. This week Josh chose Chipotle.

I settle down in the booth beside Mom. Dad sits across from me with Josh to his right--- the same way we sat at our kitchen table right after Josh told Mom and  Dad my deepest, darkest secret. Betraying me and causing me to hate him. Something unforgivable.

"I'll go get our orders," Dad says.

I watch him go, weaving his way around the 18 red-painted tables toward the cashier and pick-up counter.

"What did you order again?" And there's Mom always trying to bring up a conversation.

"A burrito," Josh pipes up, licking his lips. "My favorite."

"What about you?" Mom's hazel eyes rest on me.

"A crispy corn taco with extra meat," I reply.

We then sit in silence until Dad shows up with our orders.

"Dinner is served," he announces dramatically while placing our meals before us.

My mouth waters as my eyes take in the taco before me.

"Thanks, Dad," I smile, before digging in. Wow, is this good.

As I eat, I feel Josh watching me, his eyes following the movement of my hands. My 2 hands that hold the secrets that he found out about. The ones he made me share with him. The ones I trusted him with.

I should've known that brothers who care don't keep your secrets. They go straight to your parents for help.

"It's rude to stare." My eyes sear through him, causing him to squirm.

He looks away. "I'm done. Can I please go wait in the car?"

Dad says nothing as he hands Josh the keys. This time I don't watch Josh go, my eyes are strictly on my father. "He was staring," I say defensively.

"I know, but still, do you always have to have negative feelings toward your brother?  He's staring, so what? Just let it slide." I'm usually Dad's little girl so it sure stings like a bee that he's on Josh's side here.

Fiery hot tears sting in my eyes. "I'm always the bad one here. Why is that? Why is it ok for Josh to stare at my hands? But when I open my mouth just to tell him that it's rude to stare, I'm the bad guy."

"You caused your brother to be uncomfortable sitting with his own family," Mom says, her eyes sad. Great, both of them seem to be on Team Josh tonight.

I stand up, towering over my parents. "And he caused me to hate living at home." My voice is so, so, so bitter.

Dad's face goes red. Uh oh. "He helped you." His words boom across the diner, causing several heads to turn our way.

"Donald," Mom scolds, "lower your voice. People are staring."

"I'm out of here," I say, marching for the glass door.

"Shelby," Mom calls after me.

I ignore her, my 10 fingers curling into 2 fists.

Pushing the door open with my shoulder, the bell rings above my head, announcing my departure. I then dash for our tan jeep, the big, fat, ugly tears rolling down my cheeks. Droplets of rain pelt me in the face, following the same path my tears are taking.

Josh looks at me wide-eyed as I shove myself into the back seat. I would've stayed outside but of course it has to be raining. Glancing away, I pin my eyes on the flashing Chipotle sign, and watch as the rain begins to fade into a drizzle.

Mom and Dad show up a few minutes later and we're off, not a word said.

3 minutes into the drive, I open my clenched hands to see 8 little crescent moons etched into the paper-thin flesh of my palms, marked along with all the others.

***

I admire my handiwork, a frown making its way onto my face. Deep red scratch lines now mark my once clear skin. What have I done?

Instead of stopping, I dig my long nails in deeper, angry at myself. So, so, so angry.

"Shelby?"

Josh stands in the doorway of my bedroom, his eyes taking in the bruises and scratches all over my exposed legs.

I try to pull down my rolled-up sweatpants, but it's no use. Josh has seen everything.

"Shelby," he repeats as he steps into the room, slowly advancing toward me. "Why?"

"Please, please just go." My voice is strained.

Of course, he stays. The bed dipping as he adds his weight. "Tell me."

My hands ball into fists. "No."

"Don't you want to get it off your chest? Everything that's causing you to hurt..."

"No. And I'm not hurting." With that, I stand up and head into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

Alone, I sit down on the cold tiles, my back up against the door.

"Shelby." Josh's voice reaches me. "Please, talk to me."

I say nothing as the tears roll down my face.

He attempts a few more times to get me to open up and talk to him. I just continue to ignore him.

***

I lay in bed later that night, tears staining my pillow. I shouldn't have opened up to Josh like I did that night. I shouldn't have told him anything. But instead, foolish me told him everything. All the reasons why I hurt. The reason why I'm haunted by my past.

I put my trust in him and he betrayed me.

Smoke rising, choking me. Terrible cries reaching me from inside the burning house. And I'm just standing there, hopeless.