Page 13 of Before We Break

“Yep. We’d get our flashlights, make shadow puppets, and see who could stay up the longest.”

“Did you win?” he asks curiously.

My eyes lose focus as the memory surges to the forefront. I let myself live in the past for a few seconds before I blink myself out of it. “Never. I always fell asleep first.”

He laughs, and for a second, he looks a bit like my mom. She loved us the best she could. I always wondered if I’d done something that made her turn to drugs—if our life was so unbearable that she had to find an escape. It’s why I never wanted kids of my own; I wasn't sure if I could be the one to break the cycle. I just didn’t expect Jonah to fall victim to it. It doesn’t matter, in the end. The addiction won, and now it’s taken my brother, too.

I have to do better for Auggie.

I grab my phone and turn on the flashlight, holding it under my chin. “What do you say? Should we build Fort Weston?”

He hops off the couch, bouncing on his feet. “Yes!”

“Alright. Here’s what we need to do. You go to your room and grab as many pillows and blankets as you can find. I’ll get the rest, and we’ll meet back here. Got it?”

With a determined nod, he says, “Got it.”

Auggie rushes down the hallway in his superhero pajamas while I head to my own room, grab all of the available blankets, and stop by the linen closet on my way back. Ten minutes later, every scrap of fabric we could find is piled on the living room floor.

With four stools from the kitchen island, a few stacks of books to weigh down the edges, and a couple of chip clips I found in the junk drawer, we manage to finagle a halfway decent blanket fort in the middle of my living room. I grab a set of flashlights from my emergency kit, and we crawl inside, lying on our backs amongst a mound of pillows.

“What do you think? Do you like it?”

He shrugs. “It’s ok.”

I laugh. “Tough critic.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Never mind. What should we do now?”

“Can you read me a story?” He stares at me expectantly, and there’s no way in hell I could deny him.

“Sure. Go pick a book.”

Auggie crawls out of the fort, leaving me alone with my memories as his footsteps fade into the distance. I grab one of the flashlights and turn it on, then shape my hand into a rabbit, letting the light cast their shadow onto the makeshift wall.

In many ways, losing my parents changed me; it hardened me against the harsh realities life can dish out and robbed me of my childlike wonder, but the memories are still there. The Noah I used to be died long before our parents did. Losing them was just the nail in the coffin.

Auggie returns a few minutes later with a book about outer space clutched against his chest, but when he sees the vague outline of a butterfly on the wall, his eyes widen, and story time becomes an afterthought. “Can I try?”

“Sure, bud.”

I show him how to make a camel, then a cat, and as I’m adding the fluffy tail on the bunny, he lets out a long yawn.

“How about that story?” I say, patting the spot to my right.

He lies next to me, resting his head on his pillow with his teddy bear clutched against his chest. I pick up the book and open it to the first page. Halfway through, just as the astronauts, who happen to be zoo animals, are about to launch into space, Auggie’s head lolls against my shoulder.

I close the book and set it down at my side, then carefully extricate myself from under the sleeping kid. Once I’m halfway outside the fort, I scoop Auggie into my arms and carry him to bed. He doesn’t stir the entire time, and as I back out of his room, leaving his nightlight on, I mentally pat myself on the back.

“Night, Auggie,” I murmur, knowing he’s already asleep and he won’t hear me. On the off chance that he does, I add, “Love you, buddy.”

My parents weren’t always equipped to raise children, but we knew they loved us. I could fuck up in a million different ways, but Auggie will always know he has me in his corner.

CLIO

“I don’t know how to do this without you.” My hands shake as I sign the words.