VOICES
My
NONFICTION
Brother Madelyn Collins
T
he ground crunched under the wheels of our car. The air “Wan’ get in the car?” Jack shouted. was cool and damp, with yellow and orange trees dotting “Hey, big boy,” My father joined in. “We’ll get in the car, the horizon. I slumped in the back passenger seat, silent. but we gotta wait.” My parents and I were on our way to visit my brother, My father turned to the lady at the desk and signed Jack Jack. We drove past the white wooden fence and pulled into out in their little record-keeping binder. the small parking lot of the group of buildings. They des“I love Daddy,” Jack mumbled. perately needed to be repainted and were overgrown and My dad put a firm hand on my shoulder and pointed to me unkempt. No one was in sight; no children, no staff members, as I faked a happy smile. no one. “Hey, Jack,” Dad said, trying to get Jack’s attention. “Hey, We stepped out of the vehicle, and we climbed up the Jack, who’s this?” three steps to the main office building. The old stairs creaked Jack looked up at me with half shut, glazed eyes. I saw with every movement. My father where the stitches in his forehead had opened the door, and my mother and I healed in a pointed oval shape above He claps when he’s happy his eye. There were bruises on various entered. He followed close behind. There he was. There Jack was, in sometimes, and he’s clapped parts of his body, his knees, shins, elbows, the dim light of the flickering, yellow forearms. It looked as if he had fallen and so much his hands can bulb. He was there. Jack. My brother. caught himself on his elbows and wrists. My brother. My brother, the cause of His knees and shins were covered in sometimes become dry so much sorrow. scabs from scraping them on the asphalt. and crackly. Of course, he didn’t choose to be He reached out a long, thin arm and this way. Of course Jack has no idea pointed in my direction. what stress his conditions cause. The “Sister,” Jack answered. “Maleyn.” He stress on me, the stress on my parents’ always rolled over the d in my name, and marriage, the financial stress from slurred it a little. drowning in medical bills. The cause of my stress and disap“I love Maleyn!” he burst out. “I love sister!” pointment, yet my own flesh and blood, was there. I forced my smile to stay and replied, “I love you too, It was unfair, yes, but I needed someone to blame when Jack.” things weren’t going right. Even if he had no control over the “Aww,” he vocalized, frantically clapping. He claps when conditions he was born with; I needed someone to blame. he’s happy sometimes, and he’s clapped so much his hands To blame for my parents’ recent divorce, to blame for my can sometimes become dry and crackly. depression, to blame for why I had to grow up more quickly Did I believe what I told him? How could I not love him? than the other kids my age. I stared at him as I thought about Children are supposed to love their siblings. But what kind of everything that was unfair about our lives. sibling can’t talk or play? Can’t dress or bath himself? Jack stumbled forward on uncoordinated feet. He shuffled Many children have fond memories of playing pretend or and limped on shaking ankles. His hair was shaved short bearguing over something trivial with their siblings. Memories of cause the other kids might try to pull long hair. He was thin, growing up together. No matter how much siblings fight, they not anorexic-level thin, but thin. He was growing fast, but at always love each other, right? eleven, it was difficult to insist he eat much. Maybe average siblings. Siblings who don’t have life threat“Mama?” Jack said loudly. ening conditions that force them to live an hour away from “Hi, Jack!” My mother forced out a greeting with a sad home. Maybe love is for siblings who aren’t born with any smile. disabilities or developmental delays. Siblings who don’t over
Z
13
