In Her Brother's Arms
by James Rogers
part 1
I hid under my sister's bed the night of her twelfth birthday. It was supposed to be a bit of fun, but it didn't work out that way.
When she was very young and hadn't yet learned to speak, my brother and I used to make her cry. We would say sweet things to her in mean, gruff voices. “You're a lovely girl! A wonderful girl!” Her lip would wobble. “The bestest beauty in the whole wide world!” we'd shout. She would hold out bravely, but a few more words and we'd have her. The poor little thing, bawling her eyes out. And so we'd hug her, and say horrible things in gentle voices. “You're a disgusting brat. An ugly little troll.” We thought it was great fun, the way she didn't understand the words, only the tone.
Child abuse, really, but we did it out of love. Cuddling her, hugging her better was the most gorgeous feeling. I can remember pulling her knees into her chest and squeezing her gently, stroking her cheek, her hair, kissing her forehead. The crying would peter out, and so too the compulsive short breaths until she was her happy little self again. “Alright, my turn,” my brother would say, and we'd do it again. Each time it was a little harder to make her cry. She was learning.
Mom would have killed us if she'd known what we were up to. She wasn't past caring then.
It was a spur of the moment decision to hide under her bed. She was in the bathroom. I shot in under the box spring and waited. I thought she'd never come out. Mom lost her patience. “What are you doing in there?” she shouted from the living room.
“Having a pee.”
I watched Mom's thick legs in her white socks stomp down the hall. “For Chrisssake, Karen! How long can it take?” She rapped on the door. “Come on!” I heard the toilet flush, then the water running in the sink. “Open up!”
The door opened. “I have to do my teeth.”
“Leave them. They'll do for one night.” They came into the room, Karen babbling away, oblivious to Mom's mood. It was amazing how long it took her to realize Mom wasn't for talking. “Jesus, do you ever shut up? Get in there and go to sleep.”
The light switch clicked, the room went dark and the door shut. My plan was to wait a few minutes, let Karen get comfortable. Then I'd leap out and scare the hell out of her. But then she started talking to herself. “I went to Mary Morrissey's today,” she said in a pleasant voice. “Did you?” she replied to herself. “Yes. And did you have fun? I did. And what did you do? We fed the hens.”
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. And such an imagination, too. Feeding hens in Brooklyn. Even the name Mary Morrissey was quite inventive.
“My favorite is the little black hen.” She went on. “Really? Yeah. We call her Agnes.”
I had to put my hand over my mouth to smother the laughter.
“Ssh,” she said. “Did you hear that? No, I heard nothing. Nothing!”
That dampened the fun. I didn't like the fear in her voice.
But a moment later, she was prattling again. “I had chocolate milk. You did? Was it nice? Yeah. Sweet and creamy.”
I decided I had to do it then before I burst out laughing. I slid out from under the bed. With my arms wide, I was a shadow rising from the deep.
Karen went bananas. Screaming. Far worse than I'd expected. I heard Mom's heavy steps and I knew I was in trouble. “Ssh,” I pleaded. “Stop. She'll go nuts.”
The door flew open, the light blazed. “What the hell is going on?”
“He scared me.” The words came out between gasps for breath. Karen was as white as the sheet she was clutching. And she was visibly shaking. I couldn't believe it.
“What did you do to her?”
“It was just a joke.”
“Get out, you goddamn idiot!” Mom's a big woman. She brought her right arm about in a wide arc and walloped me one on the side of the head, then turned to my sister as I ran from the room. “Calm down, for Chrisssake. You'd swear someone stabbed you. Lie down.”
I went into my room, cursing myself and rubbing my head. What possessed me to do something so stupid? Still, I hadn't expected Karen to have such an extreme reaction.
* * *
I woke next morning to find Karen in the bed beside me. I wondered what had got into her, but I didn't wake her. She looked so peaceful. I gently got out of bed and went down to the kitchen.
Mom was in a foul mood, complaining about the weather and the MTA. “Goddamn bus will be jam-packed,” she grumbled as she headed out the door. I locked it after her, breathing a sigh of relief.
Karen came out a little while later with sleepy eyes and her hair all mangled at the back of her head. “Like a rat's nest,” as Dad used to say. She sat on the couch and looked about the place like she'd never seen it before. She was always like that until she properly woke up. It was torture when there was school. She'd sit in front of the bowl of Kix, staring into another world until Mom lifted her with a roar. “Wake up, stupid! You'll have us late again.”
It was great when Mom had work and we had no school.
“Why did you get into my bed last night?” I asked. No answer. “Karen? Do you ever listen?”
She turned her head slowly and looked at me vacantly. “What?”
“Why did you get into my bed last night?”
“Just.”
“That's not an answer.”
“I don't like my room.”
“What do you mean you don't like it? What's wrong with it?”
“I just don't like it. Okay?”
“Since when?”
“Since always.”
“You're not making much sense.”
“I don't like my room!”
“Alright. Calm down. Do you want some Kix?”
“Yeah.”
I got her a bowl, poured the cereal and the milk. She sat at the table, slurping and crunching. “I have to go out later,” I said. “Get milk and eggs and a few things.”
“I'll come, too.”
“No, it's pouring rain. I don't want you getting sick. Mom will kill me.”
“I won't get sick.”
“Just stay here.”
“No! I don't want to stay here!”
“What's got into you?”
She put down the spoon and looked at me. I didn't like that look. There was something there, but I couldn't make out what it was. “I... I'm bored. I want to go with you.”
I frowned. Like me, Karen's into computer games. And she loves reading. I never before heard her talk about being bored. “You were going to say something else,” I probed.
“No, I wasn't.” She picked up the spoon and stuck her head in the bowl.
I let it drop. I wish now I hadn't. “Alright. Anyway, it might stop raining.”
The rain stopped, the sun came out, but I forgot about the milk and eggs. Mom was really pissed. “You'll do without cereal in the morning so,” she said as we went to bed.
I was nearly asleep when Karen appeared at my bedside. I jumped. “Jesus! You scared the shit out of me.”
“I want to sleep here.”
“Why?”
“I don't like my room.”
“Oh for God's sake.” I got out of bed. “Get in there. I'll take your bed.”
“Can't you stay here, too?”
“No, there's not enough room.” In the dim light I could see she was scared. “What's the matter with you? Have you been watching creepy stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“Then stop watching it. Just go to sleep. None of it's real.” I left her and got into her bed and before long I was asleep.
I don't know how much time had passed when Karen nudged me awake, but it was still dark out. She was kneeling by the bed, her bed, crying softly. “What's the matter?”
“Please, let me sleep with you.”
“Alright, get in.” I shuffled over. She got under the blankets and turned to face me, her knees in her chest, her head down to meet them. “You have to stop watching that crap,” I whispered.
I was hoping Mom was asleep. There was no telling what she might think if she found us together. Her brain's wired funny. Or it went funny after all that business with Dad and my brother. I know she somehow blames me and my brother for what Dad did. How she reconciles that, I do not know, but she does. And even though Karen's only twelve, I was afraid that wouldn't stop Mom thinking I was up to something. I was only ten when Dad started on me.
“It's not that,” Karen whispered.
“What is it, then?”
“He asks me to come with him. He says it's much nicer where he is.”
“Who?”
“He says I'm the bestest beauty in the whole wide world.”
“Who says that?” I felt a chill. She didn't answer. I pulled her chin up from her knees. “Karen, what are you talking about?”
I heard the door handle. I shot under the blankets. The light came on. “Stop talking to yourself!” Mom snapped. I held my breath. “Always talking to yourself. Are you going crazy? Just go to sleep, for Christ's sake.” The light went off and the door thumped closed. I came up for air. Karen put her arm around me. It felt a bit weird, but I held her.
* * *
Copyright © 2023 by James Rogers
