Open My Eyes

{Ch. 5} Glass and Eggshells ✓

          I chewed on my nails as I flipped mindlessly through the TV channels. At last, I settled on a cartoon network, unwilling to watch something that required more brain cells. Sitting crisscross applesauce, I pulled a box of Wheat Thin crackers into my lap and munched away.

As cartoon characters beat each other up, my mind wandered.

To those kids, William acted as a sort of sightless superhero. A role model to prove that they could survive in a world so focused on the visual. Like Vanessa, the role model that taught everyone to smile despite the odds. Like Kae, my role model, my brother, my best friend.

When Kae had decided to attend an out-of-state college, outwardly, I jumped and skipped and squealed—my brother had a better chance of living his dream at one of his top choice schools. Inwardly, my heart sank. No longer could I bound downstairs and find him playing video games at two a.m. I couldn't peek into his room, watch him hunch over his desk as he wrote short epics and epic sonnets.

However, three days before his plane ride out, he knocked on my door and promised that, no matter how busy he would get, he'd call me at least once a week. Video chat when he could. I let myself cry into his chest that day, promising to bother him with silly texts and random phone calls, telling him I'd miss him like crazy.

A month into college, and Kae got caught up with the heavy workload. Meanwhile, I attended parties with Sam. When the parties stopped, I spent every free moment with Sam. I made hundreds of earrings and bracelets. I practiced sewing, each finger bandaged.

We broke our promise: once a week became once a month.

Normally, Kae returned in the summer. But this year, he decided to attend summer classes to get ahead on his credits—being an English major, he had yet to take a math or science course at college.

I still couldn't peek into his room to watch him write, or bound downstairs to watch him play video games with friends. My heart dared to sink a little lower each time I passed his bedroom door, aware he wouldn't be on the other side.

So this summer, I was thankful for the opportunity to volunteer at Hope and Miracles. It filled my mornings and afternoons. Not to mention all the new people I met—Marlene, Taylor, Justin, and Will—and would meet to keep my mind occupied. And Mom and Sam would fill every moment in between.

I glanced sidelong at my phone. Cracker halfway out my mouth, I lifted it and sent a text to my brother: Just wanted to remind you that a sore throat in the morning does not constitute death – it can mean dry air. Love, your favorite sister

Sighing, I toppled over, spilling some Wheat Thins out of the box.

When Dad left, Kae took over as a pseudo-father. Kae had always been protective of me—every home video of me as a baby had Kae lingering nearby. It worsened once Dad left. And I got used to his constant presence. Sometimes he acted ridiculously, like when I had my first boyfriend, and he turned into a helicopter parent. But for the most part, he was my constant companion. My best friend. Working overtime to fill the void Dad had left behind.

But now, when Kae went away, he left a void too.

With pouted lips, I forced myself to sit up and I smacked my face, shaking my head. "Stop it, Angie. Sitting here dreaming of what-ifs helps nothing. Let's do something."

So with determined shoulders, I cleaned up the crackers, turned off the TV, and prepped to go outside.

The early June rain had painted the sidewalks a dark gray, shimmering with the promise of puddles. I threw on my green raincoat, with a picture of Paddington Bear on the breast pocket (Sam had insisted it was a fashion atrocity, but I insisted it was cute, so I sewed it on) and slipped into my purple rain boots.