My smile takes over my whole face. Ever since Brady watched some nature show at school about sea turtles, he’s been talking about them nonstop. Mama and Daddy are tired of hearing about it, but I’m not. It makes him so happy. That’s why I wanted to do this today. I had some paints that needed to be used up and then I found the most perfect rock. It’s smooth and round and literally the perfect size for what I wanted to do. So I saddled up in a sunny spot and got to work.
“Boys!” Mama shouts from the back door. “Get your butts inside so we can get going already. I’m tired of y’all pitter-pattering around. We gotta go!”
Brady grimaces and asks softly, “Can you leave it be for now and come back to it later?”
He’s really asking, not like how Mama asks, but you’re supposed to say what she thinks you should say. “But I’m almost done. Like, seriously, all I need is like five minutes.”
He nods slowly. “All right, I’ll distract her, but you gotta be fast, Koda. She’s not in a good mood today.”
“Pinky swear,” I promise, sticking my finger out just like he taught me. “I’ll be so fast. I just wanna finish it so I can take it somewhere to dry.”
Brady interlocks his pinky with mine and winks at me. “Race is on.”
We share a knowing look before he takes off for the house, and I do my best to get this done. I didn’t even wanna go to the beach, but the church is having a get-together there, so Mama says we gotta go. Maybe Brady and I can sneak off and go look for turtles. If we find a small one, we can bring it home and not tell Mama about it. Just leave it in the garden with my painted rock. We’d be real good to it, feed it and love it and make sure it’s happy here. Brady’s so smart, he’d know of one that can be away from the ocean.
I do end up getting my rock done and Brady helps me carry it up on the porch to dry. It rains outta nowhere sometimes and it’d be ruined if it got wet before I could seal it. Mama is still upset when we get into the truck, but she’ll at least pretend to be happy once we get in front of her church friends. I don’t even ask Brady how he got me some extra time; he probably won’t even tell me if I did ask. He never tells me much when he gets in between me and Mama or Daddy.
All I know is he does it when I know I need him to and even when I don’t. I’ve heard some kids in his class teasing him about being friends with his little brother, but he never takes any of it to heart. Just tells them it’s not his fault that their siblings don’t like them and moves on with his day. It makes me want to cry and smile at the same time in a way I don’t understand.
When we get to the beach, Daddy makes us stay back until Mama has said hi to everybody. She shows us off like we’re prized ponies or something; it makes my insides all squirmy. But Brady is so used to this stuff, like, it doesn’t bother him at all. He stands in front of me just a little bit and does most of the talking while I duck my head and wait for it all to be over.
When Mama finally lets us go play, I whisper my idea in his ear. He thinks it’s the best idea ever, but Brady is like that about everything we do together. All afternoon, we wander around, looking for a little shelled friend to bring home, and not talkingto anyone but each other. Brady tells me all about what our life will be like when we’re grown up. How we’ll be somewhere else, but still near the ocean because we both love it, and we can go on all the adventures we want because there won’t be anyone to say no.
I can’t wait for it. When my brother wants something, nothing can get in his way, so it’s gonna happen. I know it; I can feel it in my bones. All we have to do is make it there.
~~~
A warm hand rubs up and down my back, making me want to burrow under the covers even more. “Come on, buddy. You gotta wake up.”
Tears prickle behind my closed eyelids. Disappointing my brother is the hardest part. He can tell what kind of day it’s going to be. He always can. “I know it’s hard. I do.”
He doesn’t. Brady is normal. He doesn’t have hard days, but he tries and tries when I do. It hurts as much as it helps. “Tell them I’m sick.”
Sick. Broken. Defective. It’s all the same word.
Brady brushes the hair back from my face, and I finally open my eyes. He looks so worried; it makes me feel sick to my stomach. “It’s not going to work today, Eas. Dad already said attendance is mandatory today, even if you end up puking in the pew.”
Sick is normally what Brady will tell them if I need a day to be sad. Sometimes, they’ll even let him stay behind to “watch out for me,” but today doesn’t seem like that kind of day.
Brady protects this secret of mine with all he has, and he’s still so gentle and kind about it. Maybe his resentment is buried way down deep. I don’t know. I prop myself up on my elbow, and even that takes way more energy than it should. I just want to sleep.
But my brother is relentless when he senses I’m about to be in trouble. “We won’t be gone long. We can drive separately and ditch them as soon as the service is over. Sound better?”
I nod, and he brightens. “How about some distraction candy to get you up and moving?”
He’s already moving before the words are out of his mouth, so all I can do is watch in this weirdly detached, but still pain-addled, state. The stash stays in the back of my closet, behind all my old art supplies where no one will ever care enough to look. Distraction candy came to be out of necessity. The first time I struggled to get out of bed, Mom was downstairs shouting at us to hurry before we were late to school. Brady was so scared that I’d be punished and had some Halloween candy left, so he gave me some, hoping it would make me happy. It didn’t, not really, but through some trial and error, we’ve learned that extra high-sugar content gives me enough energy to be passable, and sour candies keep the bad thoughts at the far corners of my brain. Now we both rely on it so I seem normal.
When Brady comes back, the pockets of his dress pants are packed, and he holds a few options out in his hand for me. I tear the top off and tip a few packets directly into the back of my throat, coughing roughly as they dissolve.
He keeps me going with his gentle poking and prodding all the way until we’re sitting in the third pew from the front and the eerie feeling that follows me into this building like a shadow is taking hold of my insides. I’m a pro at ignoring it or taking deep breaths, but that’s on good days. Today is not that kind of day.
It starts kinda slow, a low buzzing in my ears that gets worse if Pastor Mike is on his particular brand of soap box. I wish I could even specify to Brady what words exactly set me off, but it’s something I can tell is coming by the look on his sweaty face. Almost as if he locks eyes with me, sees all my deepdark secrets and can’t resist the opportunity to remind me how sinful they are.
My brother leans over and whispers, “Is his toupee coming loose or am I seeing things?”
I let my lips quirk at the corners but it’s only for his benefit. Truly, I wish I was like him. See, Brady doesn’t really hear the sermons either, not really. Words here and there, like me, but it’s not like he’s paying attention. He doesn’t absorb the hate, just lets it wash over him so he can shake it off like a wet dog and move on with his life. Brady is too kind to let any of this sink in, but he’s also not the target of any of it, so his hackles aren’t raised. He can focus on other things and daydream his way through this while somehow looking like he’s focused.
The target can be anyone. It’s not a set thing, sometimes it’s the rise of this or the downfall of that. All of them make me feel sick, but it’s when he talks about the duty of a man and his wife that I’m lucky if I’m not swallowing back bile before he gets to Leviticus. But none of the actual words he uses are swears or vile, they shouldn’t bother me like they do. Even if I’m not listening word for word, they still drag over my ears like nails on a chalkboard. There’s no reason I have a full body reaction to them, but I do nonetheless.
