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“Am I going to die?”
I fight the lump in my throat. “No, Bubba, you're not going to die.”
I hold him tightly, knowing I may have just told him a lie. Closing my eyes, I draw in a deep breath and try to slow my heartbeat. I know he can feel it, and I don’t want to give away my deceit.
When I open my eyes, we’re no longer at home. The sterile white walls and hum of the machines bring me to tears. Looking to my left, I see Tommy, lying there in the hospital bed that seems too big for his tiny body. His little face is swollen and his eyelids are a pale hue of purple. He opens his eyes and smiles. “Sissy,” he says, his voice like paper. I take my time to get to him—I have to be strong. He’s the child, not me. It’s my duty to protect him. I tried, I really did.
“I love you, Tommy.”
“Me too,” he says weakly.
Sitting down on the bed beside him, I hold him as he rests his head on my shoulder. I close my eyes again, feeling the tears as they escape, running down my cheeks. I open my eyes again, and this time, I'm caught in a sea of black. My mother and father are in front of me, looking down at the child sized coffin. I look around, recognizing family I haven't seen in years. Each person here has tears in their eyes and a somber look on their faces. Suddenly, the sky opens up, and a cleansing rain begins to fall. Walking up and standing beside my mother, I look down at the floral arrangement atop Tommy’s tiny coffin. Taking a closer look, I see a beautiful butterfly fluttering around the arrangement. Its yellow and orange wings are almost an exact replica of the one he let go that warm spring day. I watch as they beat against the soft rain until it lands on top of a lovely purple carnation. A sob rips through my chest as I remember that day and the exuberant young boy Tommy was before the cancer took over his delicate body. My words ring back through time.
“No, Bubba, you're not going to die,” echoes through my mind.
In an instant, my eyes flicker open, wet from the tears shed in my sleep. Glancing over at the clock, I see it's a quarter after five. I wipe my eyes and slowly sit up in bed, all the old memories flashing through my mind.
It’s been eight years since the day I lost my baby brother, and not a day goes by that I don't ache from the loss. It’s Saturday morning. Since Tommy died, it’s become my least favorite day of the week. My mother has me up by six o'clock to do chores and catch up on laundry—usually while she sits in a rocker in the front window, sucking down mixed drinks. Grief affects everyone differently, but sadly, both of my parents handle it the same. With alcohol.
I am literally holding this family together by the skin of my teeth. If I wanted to be free before, those feelings were nothing like the prison I’ve been encased in now. They’d simply fall apart without me here to take care of them. But I finished all the laundry and caught up on chores yesterday so I could go out with Jett today. A moment outside the prison Tommy’s absence keeps us all in is a welcome break.
Stretching, I slowly get out of bed and head to the adjoining shower. As I get out, I hear my dad’s truck start up. I know where he’s headed: the river, to drink. His typical weekend routine even this early. It’s not even like they can wallow together. I wonder how much longer until one of them leaves for good. I try to shake the thought from my mind. Quickly, I get dressed and blow-dry my hair. I'm standing in front of the mirror, looking at the ensemble I’ve chosen: a pair of blue jeans, my favorite red top, and my ballet flats.
I hear another car door shut from the street and I peek out the curtains to see Jett standing next to his car. He leans on it like he would wait all day for me to come out. Smart boy.
My heart thumps in my chest as I put on my lip gloss and smile at my reflection in the mirror. I grab my coat and purse as I rush out of my bedroom, practically slamming the door behind me.
“Mama, I’m leaving. Jett is here. I’ll be back later.”
She doesn’t even make eye contact, just continues to look out the window. I stop for a moment and wonder what she sees. How she’s managed all this time. I feel horrible for thinking that one of them may abandon us. Whoever the us is that’s left. I walk over and kiss her on the forehead and she mumbles incoherently as I turn to leave. I make my way down the steps, anxious to get away from her and the sorrow she carries. Sometimes I’m afraid it’ll spread like a disease, taking me down with it.
I miss Tommy every day. But I refuse to let my life go to waste. That blue eyed little boy, who’s buried in the cemetery on Peach, wouldn’t want that. I’m sure of it.
Jett gives me a kiss on the cheek. “You ok? You look a little down today,” he says, as I practically jump into his arms.
“Mama’s blitzed, as usual,” I reply, looking back at my mess of a mother through the window.
“Getting close to the anniversary, aren’t we? I feel like she’s always worse then.”
He’s right, we’re only a couple weeks away. She’ll be really bad for about a month before the date. But Daddy? He’s just in a drunken daze all the time.
I tear my eyes off of my mother as I hop in the passenger side of Jett’s truck. I know what I have to do. As Jett's truck barrels down the dusty dirt road towards town, I look back once more, and I swear I must be losing my mind, because I’m almost positive I see tears sliding down her cheeks. She hasn’t cried in years.
Her tears dried up, just like the love in that house.
1
Jett
August 2013
Cami stands and shoves me down on her bed. I roll over, looking up at this beautiful fucking woman above me. Her tank top falls to the floor, followed quickly by the booty shorts she slept in last night. I lay there, unable to move, struck completely immobile by the most magnificent sight I've ever set eyes on.
She shoves me back, climbing on top of me.
Feisty, I like that.
Her hands grip my jeans and she pulls, taking my boxer briefs down with them. Leaving my jeans on the floor, she crawls her way back up my legs. She kisses up my thigh, trailing her soft, full lips across my skin, all the way up to my hip bones and across my stomach… then lower.
