Sweet Nola

Chapter Two

Nola stood frozen at the front door. Her large eyes bulged out making them appear even larger than usual, her mouth agape.

"Hiyo," said Allie meekly

"Allie!" Nola screamed an untypical high pitch girly scream. Her little crippled brother crawled on the floor. Dark red blood was running down his forehead.

She rushed over with her shoes on in the house even though the house rules were no shoes inside. She was Belarusian and her family was a survivor of the dark commie era that plagued Eastern Europe and they didn't wear shoes in the house even then.

"What happened?!"

"I was on the kitchen table... I was trying to grab some icing. I slipped-" Allie stammered his words out, afraid that she was angry. "And fell."

In shock, Nola threw down her handbag and the paper bag containing the book she bought today and ran with urgency to her little brother. Her look of concern showed she didn't register a single thing the child said.

The blood was caked dry on his flaxen hair. The cut was a long gash above his ear. Nola lifted him up in her arms, cradling him like a newborn. The act brought back nostalgic memories of when she was seventeen, holding her newborn brother in her arms. She'd sworn on her life that she would not let him get hurt. Her arms were bloody with the child's blood.

She lay Allie on their bed in the master bedroom and rummaged through the drawers for the medikit. Thankfully the cut wasn't deep and it didn't require stitches. His face and hands were bloody dirty. She wiped him clean with disinfectant wet wipes. She wetted his hair to wipe away some caked blood with a face cloth and applied antiseptic to the wound. After wrapping his head around with a gauze roll, he looked comically like an injured cartoon character. He looked cute even when hurt. She finished patching Allie up. Nola let him rest and took off her shoes back at the doorway. Then she went to the kitchen to check the scene of the crime.

She scrubbed the floor with a cloth sprayed with kitchen detergent. She bent over placing her nose an inch from the bloody ground and sniffed the blood. What a nice smell, she thought, maybe I should lick it. On second thought, it was unhygienic and tasting his sweet blood would send her into a catatonic bliss that she may not awaken from.

She loved anything with Allie. She would smell him whenever she hugged him. It was a therapeutic experience for her. This was how an ideal loving sibling relationship were in real life.

She looked at the kitchen table and saw a blob of a cake dough with a hastily squeezed Happy Birthday on it. The words were red and the first thought that came to her head was blood. Noting the thick gooey texture, it was ketchup. Ketchup on cake.

On seeing this, she felt tears well up if just a bit. No wonder he was watching videos tutorials secretly on baking for a whole week on the tablet. She thought of Allie with his small little hands crafting as carefully as he could making this cake of what looks to be some mixture of flour and dough.

My birthday. I didn't even remember it was my birthday until Allie reminded me.

She cleaned the blood in a more lightened mood. She went back to the bedroom and saw Allie sleeping softly. That loss of blood must have drained his energy somewhat. She wondered if he was feeling anxiety. She did appear really unenergetic and cold today while bandaging him up. It was work that made her that way.

She realised she was still in her formal work dress and stripped off. Whenever she did this, she felt the nostalgia of changing from her school uniform. I guess things just don't change. Maybe when I hit sixty or get married will things finally change.