His Story
Fiona Druce
His Story
By Fiona Druce
Copyright 2013 Fiona Druce
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His Story
Mama stared out the window, but Greg knew she comprehended nothing. Her foggy eyes didn’t understand the beauty of the great blue sky or green Springtime any more than they did anything else, these days.
Every day he lost more of her. Every day she took one of those stupid pills the doctor prescribed. He and his older brother Tom had near-daily arguments regarding Mama’s condition, but that didn’t seem to stop Tom from getting more.
I wish Dad was still here. A burning tingle in his nose and his eyes threatened to make his emotions visible. With an angry fist, he rubbed his face. It wasn’t time to grieve; it was time to solve. Mama needed help. Fast.
Of course, Mama had needed help for ages, but nobody came. Instead, they whispered behind their windows, watching Greg and his brothers as they came home from school. Poorly hidden looks of pity filled their eyes at Fellowship Hour on Sunday at Church.
Greg shook his head. There was little sense in brooding.
“Greg.” He jerked his head toward the voice. His older brother stood in the living room, beckoning him with a nod. Greg snuck out of the kitchen to join him.
“Yeah? What’s up?”
Tom’s responding smile didn’t reach his eyes. In fact, his smile fought with a frown in a losing battle.
“Hey, buddy.” Tom’s voice cracked. This was definitely not good. Tom’s warm hand rested on Greg’s shoulder. “So, we need to talk. Uh…Is your homework done, yet?”
Greg nodded. He glanced at their third brother, in question. Mickey, the youngest of the trio, sat in angry silence staring at the television with enough vehemence to indicate his opinion on family life.
“I tried. He doesn’t want to know.”
Greg nodded.
Without a word, Tom opened the front door screen. Greg followed. The screen slammed against its frame, and then hung open. It had been years since it latched right.
Humid, muggy, warm air filled his lungs. Tall grasses tickled his knees as he walked. The heavy sun weighed on them, making an oasis of every shadow.
A tiny trail appeared in the hay-like grass, formed by countless journeys by small, energetic and adventurous feet. The familiar comfort was tainted by the bittersweet nature of the moment.
A large oak they’d proclaimed as The Tree loomed ahead. Surrounded by the field of emptiness, it stood vanguard against the fantasy foes of the boys’ imaginations. A veritable fortress, it was home to their creations, to their happiness, to their memories.
“Tom…” Greg rushed ahead. “Please…” Not here.
His older brother stopped, but didn’t turn. His ear and cheek appeared over his shoulder. “Greg, there’s nowhere else.”
“Now, then. Tell me, now. Before we get there.”
Tom looked forward, again. Moments of infinite stillness passed before he nodded. “Alright.”
Greg heaved a wary sigh while his brother scanned their surroundings. Assured they were alone, Tom pulled Greg down into a kneel. The tall golden waves of grass nearly covered their heads.
“Hey, buddy,” he started, again. “Look. A lady showed up at work, today. Dressed real nice. Smelled good, too.”
Just say it already!
“She, uh…” He scratched his head, squinted his eyes at the sunlight. Stalling, once more. “She talked to my boss. Called me in.”
Tom swallowed hard and rubbed a fist against his eyes. His voice dropped to a whisper. “She said we gotta go.”
What did that mean? Greg scrunched his nose tight and drew his brows inward. “Go where?”
“We gotta go. Leave. You know…Move away, buddy.”
“I don’t get it.”
Tom chuckled. It wasn’t real; no, that chuckle was to cover the sob that forced his Adam’s Apple to bob frantically. “She said the State knows ‘bout us.”
“Who’s the state?”
“You know, smart folks. Government and stuff.”
Greg knew of them. One of the Church ladies had talked to her sister about it, two weeks ago when she thought Greg wasn’t there.
She said something about the state taking him and his brothers away, too. Just like Tom was saying.
Greg didn’t want to go away. “We didn’t do nothing, though!”
Tom brushed away Greg’s comment. “’Course we didn’t, buddy. We ain’t in trouble. It’s different.”
“How different?”
“Well, see… Kids…They gotta have somebody take care of ‘em.”
Greg jumped to his feet. Fear raised the volume of his voice to a shout. “But we got you, Tom! You take care of us! And Mama’s still here! She just needs help!”
Tom followed suit but pulled Greg into a tight hug. “I know, buddy! I know. But…See…Mama can’t get no help with us around. And the lady said I can’t afford to take care of ya’ll.”
Tom’s chest heaved rapidly against Greg’s cheek. “She said ya’ll need another place.”
The sweltering heat of the Kentucky summer cooled in the trail of tears on Greg’s cheeks. A storm built inside of him. He held it back, swallowing it deep inside of him, but it grew. Bigger and bigger. Ya’ll need another place. The sentence echoed in Greg’s head. Each repetition turned the storm more fierce in his belly.
He clenched his teeth tight and squeezed his eyes shut.
The storm let loose in a painful sob, so hard not even a sound accompanied it. His muscles were too tight to issue the sob’s voice. Saliva pooled in his open mouth.
I don’t want to go. I want it all to stop. I want Dad and Mama!
He couldn’t say it, even if he wanted to. Another sob had taken over. Tom’s arms pulled him tight, squeezing harder and harder. Then he cried; loud bursts of grief, screamed into Tom’s chest. Greg gripped his brother; his anchor in the storm.
Tom buried his face in Greg’s hair and whispered. “I’m so sorry, little buddy. I…Tried.” Greg felt tears drop onto his scalp.
His whole body trembled, then heaved with the force of periodic sobs. Breath hitching in his chest, he whispered, “Tom…Please…Don’t let me go.”
A fierce dust-devil kicked up, twirling grass and leaves into a spiraling funnel.
Once passed, it dropped the leaves wherever they would go, far from where they’d been.
Just like Fate.
