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Make your choice, Jo.
Heads or tails?
Life or death?
Flashback
SADIE
“Sade! Are you ready?”
“I’m coming!”
I ran out the front door to find Jo sitting on his bike with a bored look on his face.
“Who pooped in your cereal?” I snorted, skipping down the rickety steps.
“I’m going to poop on your head if you don’t hurry up and get on this bike.”
I giggled.
“That’s so gross, Jo.”
I jumped on the back of his bike with my feet on his pegs, and my hands holding onto his shoulders.
“Hang on,” he told me before taking off down the street.
Jo and I decided to head down to the lake since Dad hasn’t been home for two weeks. Since he’s been gone, Mom seems happier than I have ever seen her. She started to bake again and sing while she cleans.
With my hands spread out to my sides, the warm summer breeze kissing my face, my smile widens at hearing the birds singing, cars whizzing by, and dogs barking in the distance.
Freedom.
A word that is unfamiliar to families like Jo’s and mine.
“We’re here.” Josiah came to a stop.
He helped me off the bike and laughed when I ran toward the lake without waiting for him.
This spot belonged to Jo and me, and no one else. We came here to forget the horrors of our life, reminded us that we have each other.
“If you keep going, you’re going to fall in.” His voice traveled through the wind.
“Then you’ll have to hurry up and catch me!” I laughed so hard I had to try not to pee in my shorts.
I come to a stop when my brother’s playful but annoyed voice rings out behind me.
“Come on, Mom will kill me if I let you fall down.”
I giggled as Josiah grabbed my hand and led me down the rocky path to the lake.
Once we were halfway down the trail, Jo released my hand and sat on a rock. I lowered myself beside him with my knees tucked close to my chest.
“Do you think Dad will come home soon?” Jo asks while grabbing a handful of pebbles and tossing them into the lake.
When I glanced in his direction, he was staring out at the water with a guilty look—guilt for wanting our father and sadness for the hurt we have endured.
“Probably,” I responded sadly.
