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When I got home that night, Henry was in bed. I turned on the light in the little kitchen and sat beside him.
“Henry?” I whispered.
His eyes opened a crack, and he peered at me in the dull light coming through the kitchen door. His eyes were bloodshot, and he smelled like whiskey.
“I took the money from the pantry,” he said miserably.
“You took the money for the electric bill?”
“It’s not the first time I did it either. I took that money from your envelope back at the rooming house.” His voice cracked as he confessed, “Lizzie, I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He looked so dejected, I couldn’t even bring myself to be mad, but I was plenty hurt. I blinked quickly to clear the tears from my eyes before Henry could see them.
“It’s okay,” I lied uneasily. “Did you take all of it this time?”
“No. About half.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Lizzie, I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this.” The air in the room was thick with tension. My brother seemed genuinely exhausted and I had a sudden, terrifying understanding: he was tired from the effort it was taking him to keep breathing. When I blinked, I saw him cradling Dad’s body beneath that tree on the farm, the sun rising behind them, our entire world changed with one split-second decision. “I’m letting you down, Lizzie. I’m a burden to you, and—”
“Don’t you dare speak like that. You’re the only family I’ve got now, and you’d never be a burden to me.” He blinked hard; he couldn’t quite clear the tears before I saw them. “We’re a team, right? We always have been.”
“It’s not a team when one player is doing all of the work, sis,” he whispered. Then he offered a weak smile. “Hey, listen—I’m tired, and you must be too. I need to get back to sleep.”
He was right—I was exhausted. Even so, I was too scared to fall asleep, in case he wasn’t there when I woke up.
“You have that worry line between your eyes again, Miss Lizzie,” Calvin said, a few weeks later. We’d fallen into a habit of chatting the nights he was at the hotel, and I generally looked forward to his company, but I felt uncharacteristically fragile that night—like if he prodded me, I’d dissolve into a puddle of tears.
I’d worked three Sundays in a row so we could meet the electric bill, but I had to keep the cash in my locker at work. Henry was disappearing for days.
I set Calvin’s steak and fries on the table, then forced a smile.
“It’s just been a long day, that’s all.”
Calvin lingered over his meal that night. I’d long cleared his plate and finished my cleaning, but he was still sitting there, making notes in the margins of a document. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was just after eleven.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller,” I said, approaching his table. “The restaurant is closed now.”
“I know,” he said. He closed a folder over his document, then lifted his briefcase up onto the table and slipped it inside. “There’s a diner just down the road where we can go for a milkshake, or we can have a chat while I walk you home. Up to you.”
“Thank you, Calvin,” I said quietly. “I appreciate it, but I’m okay. Really.”
Only as soon as I said those words, a tear leaked onto my cheek. Mortified, I swiped at it with the back of my hand, but Calvin’s expression only softened.
“Lizzie...”
“I’m okay,” I insisted weakly. “I’m fine. I’m just tired.”
I was worn-out from worrying and utterly exhausted. Every single night, as I made that walk home, I wondered what I’d find when I opened the apartment door.
“Come on,” Calvin said gently, rising to his full height. “Let me put this up in my room and I’ll meet you in the lobby in a few minutes.”
I was seated opposite Calvin in the diner down the block, a milkshake untouched in front of me. He’d devoured his, and now he was listening intently as I rambled about my brother.
“My father had these black periods his whole life—good days and bad days—but especially once the drought got bad. I mean, thingswerebad—don’t get me wrong. But sometimes it seemed like things were worse for Dad than for anyone else.” I struggled for words as I rubbed my forehead. “There’s a darkness that runs in the men in my family. Henry isn’t lazy or overreacting. I know that things really do feelhopeless to him, but he’s not even trying to find work now. Not really. Do you know what I mean?”
“I do.”
