Tears

Day in September

        Soon it's my Brother's Birthday!

We want to go to Target, so I can get him a present. But our Dad says, 'maybe' but we know that means 'no'.
He just doesn't want us to wear a mask at the store.

I start coloring this drawing I made for Simon's best friend, Charlie. Simon and Charlie are 3 days apart in birth. We're going to have a party next weekend:)

Simon left the room while I draw. The room is dark because of the lack of light that enters in this room and also because the lights are off. But the light from the one window in our room casts the sunlight, but the sun's light is like a sad color like when it's a gray day out.

"No!" I hear my dad yell, causing me to bounce in suprise.

"I'm sick of you not wanting to do anything! All you do is sit on your butt all day. Not wanting to do anything! All you do is play video games! We're not going to Target! Have some inspiration! You're the only 10-year-old boy I know who doesn't do anything! Headache or not!"

Oh. My. God!

What is he talking about? 

My eyes start to fill with tears. I stand up and see my brother standing in the doorway with eyes droopy and red. This causes my tears to roll.

"Come here," I say, opening my arms. He comes into my arms and cries. I cry with him. 

He lets go of my arms and sits down, leaning on our dresser that sits under our wooden loft bed by the window.

I close the door fully, and sit beside him.

"He says I'm not an inspiring kid," he says, more tears flowing down his cheeks. 

"I'm sorry," I say.

"Now my headache hurts even more with him yelling at me," he says crying some more. 

"Come here. I'll kiss it." I grab his head and gently peck his forehead. "It's okay," I tell him. "Look, Mamma's right there." I smile looking at the photos on the dresser. He looks at them, calmness filling in his eyes for a moment before he bursts into a sob. His cries, causing my tears to fall down my cheeks even more.
"I wish mamma was here," I say looking back at my drawing. Tears covering my vision that I can't continue to draw, my nose starts to stuff up.

"I need a tissue," Simon tells me. "But I don't want to leave this room," he says in between sniffs.

"I'm going to write about this," I say. I write moments of our dad abusing us on random pieces of paper. Grabbing a colored piece of paper that's underneath the ladder, I grab a pencil too. The ladder leads to our bed that's above us now.

"But, what if daddy sees?"

"Better," I state. My vision starts to clear up and our tears disappear as I write:   'Soon it's my Brother's Birthday...'

The door opens with a loud bang.

I bounce up and look toward the door, where my dad stands.

"Oh, that scared me!" I say, laughing a bit as I flip the page so my father doesn't see, acting noncholant of this process.

"Simon, come here," My dad says. Simon gets up, following my dad out of the room.

"Sorry," I hear my dad say. "For yelling at you," 

I think they might be hugging, right now...?

I hear my brother's footsteps walking towards the bathroom as I hear him grab a tissue.

As he blows his nose, I write this quick moment, that seems like a long one.