“Are you ready?”
Graham, my eight-year-old little brother, nods once, a scowl lining his face. We haven’t spent much time together and there may be a sixteen-year age difference between us, but there’s no denying this kid is my brother. From his dark brown locks to his bushy black eyebrows and brown eyes, right down to the glower on his face, he’s the spitting image of me at that age.
Who am I kidding? He’s the spitting image of me now too.
Mercy shakes in front of me, another problem of hers since the stroke. She shakes often and is hardly able to stand for long periods of time without assistance.
“Drive safely. I’m trusting you.”
Although Mercy’s voice sounds anything but trusting, I nod. “I will. And thank you.”
Her washed-out, pale blonde hair swishes as she nods and returns her attention to the book in her lap, dismissing Graham and me. I take one last glance at her, noticing how much weight she seems to have lost since I saw her a week ago and hating how frail she’s becoming before I usher Graham from the room, calling out to my other brother and sisters.
“Gia! Gunner! Gillian! Let’s move!”
Gia strolls casually down the hallway, pulling a purse across her body. “The twins are already in the car. I was just grabbing some snacks in case Graham gets hungry. He didn’t eat much for dinner.”
Although Gia is only fourteen, I swear she’s more of an adult than I am. She’s always been that way—independent, smart, wise. I didn’t spend a lot of time with her before I left home, especially since I continually avoided her, and I regret it. I could have learned a lot from my sister, despite our ten-year age difference.
“Thanks,” I mutter, leading the way to the car.
I spy the twins ignoring one another in the backseat of my Civic. I pop open the back door and let Graham crawl over Gillian’s lap to the middle. Gia slides into the passenger seat and I instruct them all to buckle up. I watch in the rearview mirror as Graham obediently follows my instructions then drops his head, staring down at his lap, his earbuds in place as he shuffles through his MP3 player. The twins both huff but follow the order. Gia was buckled before I even had to say anything, already settled into her seat and reading something on the e-reader I gave her for Christmas last year.
I may have dropped the ball for way too many years, but I’ve been trying to wiggle my way back into their lives again. I know buying someone’s affection isn’t real or true, but I have to start somewhere. I’ll never forget the smile on Gia’s face when she ripped the wrapping paper to reveal the black box, or the squeal she let out as she opened it up. I’ll never let go of the feeling in my chest as she wrapped her arms around me and whispered a tearful thank you.
Last Christmas was a good time.
The twins, who are just fourteen months younger than Gia, both received their first smartphones. While Mercy was annoyed, they were quite taken with me. Graham was harder to shop for. We’re not close—at all. Hell, I can count on one hand the number of actual words he’s spoken to me. He’s a fairly surly eight-year-old, but I know he loves music. So, I went with my gut and bought him a record player along with Metallica on vinyl.
Mercy gave me a good talkin’ to over that one.
It was worth it, though, especially since I swore the corners of his mouth tipped up and his eyes shone a little brighter. He’s been more communicative toward me since.
I’m not entirely sure where to go when we pull up to the school so I follow the line of cars wrapping around the parking lot.
“I can walk up with the kids while you find a place to park,” Gia says, already unbuckling herself.
I begin to correct her, letting her know she’s a kid too and will need to wait for me, but I decide against it. We’re stopped near the auditorium entrance and I can’t see a single open space to pull into.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I agree. “Just make sure Graham gets where he needs to be and find enough seats for all of us. I’ll be in shortly.”
She nods and they all shuffle out of the car, following Gia without hesitation. I wish I could get a quick response from them like that. They hardly ever see me as an adult figure. It’s more like I’m a long-lost uncle who only comes around once every couple years and expects everyone to know everything about him.
I grip the steering wheel tightly, annoyed with myself.And whose fault is that, jackass? Mine. Solely mine.
It takes me almost ten minutes to finally score a spot at the back of the lot. I jog to the entrance, hoping Gia managed to find us all seats together.
I walk inside just in time to see a kid that looks familiar slip down into the stairwell, the door swinging closed behind him.
Was that Graham?
I race to catch the door before it latches, following down the dimly lit stairs. I can hear the echoes of his feet hitting the steps ahead of me. Then they stop.
One floor down, I find my little brother sitting on the ground, head tucked between his knees, hands covering his ears. He’s rocking back and forth a bit, his breathing clearly uneven.What the…?Is he okay? Does he need help? How the fuck canIhelp him? I can barely even talk to him!
Hang on. I’ve seen this before, not from Graham, but from myself.
He’s having a panic attack.
