Twelve Years Old…
“Killian, you have to stop.”
I tie up my shoes and look at my mother with a questioning expression.
“It’s not your job to protect Carter. Do you remember the baby duck?”
I nod because of course I remember Chevy, our pet duck that Knox accidentally killed.
“Knox loved him so much that he took him everywhere, even to bed with him. He held him while he slept. Of course, he nevermeant to smother him, but he did. Knox loved him to death. Literally. Don’t love Carter to death. Let him breathe.”
I swallow hard, knowing she’s right but not understanding how to let go. Since we were five years old, it has been my responsibility to protect him from everything. Mom never told me it’s my job, but it has to be. Who else is going to look out for him when she isn’t around? That’s a lot, considering she works two full-time jobs.
No, Mom is wrong. This isn’t like Chevy. Carter has to be protected. Kids have cornered him and touched him while he shakes and cries. This is my responsibility—because I’ve decided it is.
After taking a shower and getting dressed, I head to the back of the house so I can talk to my mom. She isn’t buried here, but we have a garden for her, complete with a headstone. It was Carter’s idea when we moved here, but Knox and I agreed. I kneel in front of the engraved rock and talk to my mom.
“He was mine to protect. But now-“
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly.
“Maybe you were right. This girl—she was leaving dead bodies on our property. I perceived her as a threat, but Carter and Knox never did.”
I run my finger over her name on the headstone.
Madeline Bonetti.
August 12, 1971- December 14, 2016
Devoted mother to the end.
La luce della sua vita splende per sempre.
The light of her life shines forever.
“She’s so beautiful. You would’ve loved her. The fire this girl has reminds me of you.”
I wipe away the tears running down my face.
“Even if she’s alive, I can’t have her the way they do. What I broke can’t be unbroken. The damage is permanent.”
I take a deep breath as the wind blows gently through the trees. A gentle, comforting breeze I don’t deserve. I close my eyes as the memories of the first time I lost my brother come flooding back.
Knox cries every night because he misses Carter. I want to, but I don’t. I need to be strong. Mama sits in her rocking chair holding his stuffed dog and cries. A lot. We eat mostly peanut butter sandwiches because it’s the only thing I know how to make. She says it’s okay as long as I don’t use a sharp knife. Mama told me it’s not my job to take care of Knox, but most days she’s lost. Mama needs my help. And I like feeling needed.
My brother sits on the floor playing with his favorite car and looks up at me.
“Carter.” Knox whispers as his bottom lip trembles.
I nod my head in agreement, but stiffen my shoulders, trying to be the strength he needs.
“He will be back. Everything will be okay.”
A tear rolls down his cheek, his eyes fill with sadness, and his fingers tighten around his toy, his hands shaking.
“I can’t be strong like you.”
Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “You don’t have to be. We all have a part in our family. Mine is to be strong.”
