The Swing

CHAPTER 2

I quietly tiptoed into Colby's room, trying my hardest to be quiet. Like every morning nowadays, he was on the floor, with his two Marvel action figures that his uncle had given him for his birthday last year. It was really the only toys he had.

"Colby!" I whispered close to his ear.

"The tides are supposed to be giant today! Wanna go early before the crowd gets there?"

My little brother turned around and smiled at me with a grin that only he could possess.So warm, and genuinely friendly...

"Ok! Mr. Captain America is gonna come too!."

I shook my head and took both the action figures from him. "No, Colby. Remember, we don't want him to get lost."

He rolled his eyes but put the plastic figures back in the corner of his room. "Oh Ashlyn! Guess what?" He looked at me expectantly, as if forgetting the action figures completely.

"What?!" I practically jumped out of my pants. He was so cute when he did this.

"I know what I want for my birthday now!"

And here it comes...

"The swing set that we saw in that magazine we found at the beach! You know, the one with the superheroes painted on it, and TWO swings so we can swing together!!!"

I covered my mouth to stifle my grin.

"Colby," I started, kindly kneeling down to hold my brother's hand.

"That's a very sweet thought, but you know mom can't afford that."

He nodded and let my hand fall back onto my side.

"I know. I just maybe thought that if mommy and Uncle Ricky worked together, they might have enough!" He smiled proudly like he had figured out the solution.

I nodded. There was no point in arguing with him. "Maybe." I shook my head to clear my thoughts of just how bad off we were. "Change into your swim trunks. I'll come back when you're ready." I turned on my heel and proceeded to walk away. Then, my heart dropped into my chest as I heard his voice behind me.

"You mean Dad's swim trunks."

It was true. My father left behind very little when he left us. His plastic swim trunks, was one thing. I have always told myself that he merely forgot them. Someone like my father, with no heart, who can simply pack up and leave his family behind him like dust, just forgot. He didn't leave them for Colby. He didn't care about any of us. Except something inside me begs to believe that he was thinking especially of his son, like one last gift. I don't know why it bothers me that much.

I twisted back around to look at Colby's face. He has the same, bright green eyes as my mother. The rest of his resemblance, highly reminds me of my dad. "Yes, Colby. Dad's trunks."