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"I'm going to talk to John, Dad. I'll tell him that I can work with him on the weekends and school vacations to pay off your debt," Gabe offers.
"Ha, weekends won't help us, will they? You idiot! You're sixteen now; it's time you quit this stupid school bullshit and join the workforce like a real man. When I was your age, I was already working with your grandfather in construction," Dad spits back, words laced with venom.
"Fine, Dad," Gabe answers with a sigh. Thankfully, Dad seems too drunk to notice his tone; otherwise, he would probably hit him for hisdisrespect.
"What about that brother of yours? What's he going to do to help? What does he do all day, anyway? Because he certainly doesn't take care of the house like he's supposed to. If your mother saw him, she'd turn in her grave."
At these words, I feel the tears silently soaking my pillow. My mother died of cancer when I was just five years old. She was gone before we even had time to come to terms with the fact that she was sick. I remember little about her, but she was nice. She always hugged me tight and kissed me goodnight on the forehead. How she brushed my hair and sang lullabies to me and Gabriel in Italian. I never realized it at the time, but looking back, hearing my mother sing in Italian was so beautiful. I often find myself curious about her childhood in a different country and what made her decide to leave Italy.
I would love to visit Italy with Gabe one day when I'm older, since neither of us has ever been. We don't even know if she still has family there. Come to think of it, I don't really know much about my mother.
Why she fell in love with my father, I'll never know. People tell me he used to be a different person when she was alive and that losing her broke him inside, but I only know the drunken thug currently yelling at my brother in the living room. I've been thinking about Mom for so long that I didn't even notice it had gotten quiet. Fearing for my brother’s safety, I slowly crawl out of bed, quiet as a mouse, to check on Gabriel. When I come out, I find that Dad has fallen asleep on the couch, one hand on his beer, the other in his boxers. Gabriel is quietly cleaning up the broken bottles Dad threw at the wall out of anger.
"Listen, Nate. I know you love spending your time with Isabella, and she's coming back soon for the summer. I don't want to take that away from you. God knows you deserve a little happiness in your life, but you really need to step up your game here," Gabriel whispers sadly. "I can't protect you forever, bro. I'm dropping out of school to earn some money, and you'll have to help me too. I'll talk to John there must be something he needs help with. Until then, you need to give me a hand with cooking, cleaning, and generally staying away from Dad."
His voice breaks, and I want to hug him and apologize for being a useless brother. Then I notice that Gabriel has a big gash and dried blood on his forehead.
"What happened?!" I gasp a little too loudly.
"Shhh," Gabe says, covering my mouth with his hand.
We both stand in complete silence with bated breath until we're sure we didn't disturb Dad.
"For someone who can't walk straight, he sure can aim," Gabe says quietly, trying to make light of the situation.
We clean up the mess and use the time to wash the few clothes we have in the sink before tiptoeing outside to hang them on the clothesline, praying it doesn't rain during the night. We even find the time to butter some sandwiches and leave out painkillers and water in case Dad wakes up with a hangover tomorrow.
Then we slowly sneak into bed.
"Night, Gabe," I whisper, but all I hear is a small sound, probably not even a real word, back. Looking over at my big brother, I see he’s already lost in the void of his own mind, letting the silence and darkness overtake him. I lie on my side, facing him, but he's too busy staring up into his own abyss. I wish there was some way I could help, but Gabe has never been one to allow me to share his burden.
I continue lying here, waiting, wanting him to know that I’m here in case he needs me. Not once does he turn his head and look at me. We're just inches apart, but it might as well be miles.
I listen to the sound of his breathing change and become slower and more steady until I know he’s finally asleep. There's nothing lighting up the room except the small red lights from the old alarm clock. It's enough to see that, even in slumber, he’s sporting a frown. Even in sleep, he can’t find peace.
Taking one last look at the clock and registering that it's close to 2 a.m., I roll over and allow myself to find some much-needed rest. Before I do, I make a silent prayer to the heavens that I wake up before my father tomorrow. As scary as it is to be around my father when I'm awake, nothing is scarier than being woken up by him.
Gabe and I wake up early and hear the happy chirping of birds outside the window.Please be quiet. Please don't wake up Dad, we beg silently as our gazes lock. We get up and start our chores for the day. It’s a weekend, which for most thirteen-year-olds means playing games, watching TV, or maybe playing catch in the park with their dads. That’s not our reality. For us, it means Dad will sleep until early evening, and Gabriel and I will do all the housework. I'd better hurry and prepare and freeze meals for the week so that we don't all starve, especially with Gabriel going to work more often now. I’ve just finished scrubbing the last remnants of vomit from the carpet when I look over at the clock and notice it's almost 5 p.m.; Dad will be waking up soon to go back to the pub.
Needing to get rid of the vile smell now clinging to my skin, I decide to jump into the shower.
Just as I'm about to step under the relaxing, hot stream of water, I hear a knock on the door.
Quickly throwing my sweatpants back on, I attempt to head for the door before it wakes up Dad from his drunken slumber on the sofa, but to my absolute horror, I'm too late. My eyes widen in shock and fear as I enter the room and see that Dad is already awake and yelling at whomever is on the other side of the door.
"Nate, you lazy, pathetic, fucking little shit, there's a girl here. Get your ass over here now!" I come running, and as I peer around the door, I see Isabella's terrified face staring back at me.No, please, not her. Don't let his poison corrupt her too.
"Bella, go now. I'll explain it all tomorrow," I say, rushing as I try to convey my urgency with my eyes alone.What the hell is she doing here?!
The next thing I know, Dad is pulling me by the hair, and Isabella is running away crying while Dad slams the door closed with his foot. "Who the hell is this girl, Nate? Is she the reason your lazy, useless ass didn't do anything to help me?" he yells in my face, grabbing me by the throat and shaking me.
"No, Dad, no. She's just…" I try to reason with him, as I've seen my brother do so many times before. Obviously, I'm doing it wrong because the next moment, I stumble backward as he punches me square in the jaw.
"Don't you ever try to get smart with me again, you worthless little shit," Dad yells. Gabriel comes running from somewhere, like my personal superhero. He tries to help, but that only results in him taking a hit from Dad as well.
I run away and try to close my bedroom door behind me, but Dad pushes it open, causing the trinket box I have on the table to fall and break, dropping all my letters onto the floor. I lunge for them, but Dad is too quick, knocking me to the floor. I curl up into a ball to protect myself, but he takes his big boot and stomps on me. A sharp pain sears through my ribs as his boot connects with my side. The pain takes my breath away.
This makes Dad even angrier. He picks up the letters and rips them all in half, cursing and screaming at me. I watch in horror as he picks up each and every single one and throws them into the wood-burning fire in the corner of the living room, laughing cruelly while I scream and beg him to stop. Gabriel tries to talk to Dad again and even offers to‘punish’ me himself while Dad goes to the pub.
