HE HAD SHAMPOOED THE BOY’S hair and placed one

hand under his head and the other on his chest. The boy froze and

screamed in terror. His big brother jerked to a standstill, his eyes

widening in alarm. “Oh, my God.” 

     She staggered through the tall, dry grass with the child in

tow, ignoring the angry shouts from behind. Her roadster was

parked on the empty street next to the field, beyond the pond.

The boy was crying—vainly attempting to loosen her grip. He

was calling hysterically for his brother. She turned her head

towards the loud protests, and lost her balance. Suddenly she

stumbled on her own feet, releasing the child. The child fell

forward into the deep water of the pond.

     He was on her in a flash—knocking her completely to the

ground with his open hand, then ran into the pond and retrieved

the boy who had gone under the surface.

       He carried him out. She was attempting to get on her feet.

“Get out of my way!” He screamed at her, as she held out her

arms. “Don’t touch him.” He laid him in the field grass and

applied mouth to mouth but the child was still and lifeless. He

was shaking with anger and a gnawing sense of fear, a feeling

he had never experienced before. An unknown emotion was

insidiously turning his stomach inside out, as he watched his

little brother lying motionless—dead. He felt lightheaded, ready

to pass out. Then the boy suddenly began to cough, water

spewing from his mouth and cried in terror.

      Her red wig was askew on her head, as she crawled towards

them. He lunged and pulled the child protectively into his arms.

“Stay away from him or I swear, the next time you attempt to

pull a stunt like this, I’ll kill you!”

      The child was howling, as his brother carried him towards

the street. She stared, her eyes glaring like a wounded animal

watching intently, as he ran with the boy in his arms across the

lofty meadow brush.

      Then she straightened her hair and silently slowly rose to her

feet.

      He ran across the street. The lady next door was standing in her

yard watching in horror. He ignored her and went into the house

and up the stairs to his bedroom. He stripped the wet clothing off

his little brother and wrapped him in a large terry cloth towel. The

boy was crying hysterically, his eyes filled with terror.

His big brother pulled of his wet tee shirt and held him close,

cradling the child in his arms. “I should have never left you

alone—not for a moment.” His voice cracked with anger. He

held him closer and the boy nestled his face into his brother’s

chest. “I won’t let anyone hurt you again.” But his words fell to the floor in mute silence, punctuated only by the boy’s tormented wail. He sat on the edge of the bed
and rocked him, rocked him for what appeared to be an

eternity, until he began to calm down and when the tears

abated, he would sit him up and the child again, became frantic.

He continued to rock him. Rocked him until the room slowly

darkened and the boy had fallen into a restless slumber.

His body and arms ached. He carefully laid him on his big bed

and slowly rose

.    “No!” He cried and his brother picked him up and took him

downstairs.

      “You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. Let’s get some

soup or something in you.” He said entering the kitchen. He had

bent over to set him down on the chair and felt the little body

stiffening. “Ok, OK.” He wrapped the oversize towel tighter

around the boy and rested him on his hip, then scoured through

the cupboards until he located a can of chicken noodle soup, the

boy’s favorite.

      It was almost next to impossible attempting to open the can

with his brother impeding the use of his right arm, but after he

labored to get the can opened and poured the contents in a

saucepan, he sunk wearily into a kitchen chair with the boy on

his lap.

     He refused the spoon. He turned his head and hid his face in

his brother’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s try just a little. You

need to eat. You don’t have to eat it all. I just don’t want you

getting sick.”

     The boy slowly sipped perhaps a few spoonfuls then resumed

his comfortable position in the safety of his brother’s shoulder.

“Alright, I won’t force anymore of it on you. And I won’t let you

go. I won’t let you go until you feel safe—I promise.”

******

His hand was on his forehead. “It’s my fault.” The brother said

then pulled the boy to a sitting position in the tub. “Let’s put your

goggles on and I’ll turn on the shower to rinse your hair. I forgot for

a moment, so just calm down—it’s all right now.”

    His hands trembled slightly, as he pulled the elastic headband

over the child’s head. He turned the nozzle to the shower. “OK—

blow out the air—here it comes.” He said in a forced, light tone.

The boy giggled as the water came rushing on his head—and his

brother’s tension eased. When rinsed, he pulled him out of the tub

and set him on the towel in his lap, and rubbed the small body with

another. “Feel better now?”

    “Yes, sir.”

     “Don’t call me that.”

     “I’m sorry.” The boy whispered, his eyes staring dully at his

brother.

     “There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He said and changed the

subject. “We’re not taking a nap today. It interferes with your night

sleep. I want you good and tired so you can get some rest tonight.

There will be no playing around or coming downstairs this evening.

Do you understand me?”

     The boy’s eyes widened and his brother watched with a look of

blank silence. He wants me to go to sleep then the night voices

will come and they will be mad—always so mad. When he is like

this—it is time for the night voices and my brother is no longer

mine, until they go away. And after the sun shines, it may be hot

dogs or pot roast. He had said once “You are going to hear

things and maybe see things, like a lot of different men coming

around, but don’t worry about it—I’m sure everyone in the

neighborhood will first.” The child shuddered slightly.

     “Cold?” 

     The boy shook his head. “Will you like me again, if I mind?”

     His brother looked sharply at him for a moment then it passed.

“I would if you didn’t. Now let’s get you dressed.”

       “Can I sleep in your bed?” My brother’s bed is big and he

sleeps in the moonlight. His room is next to the stairs. And he is

warm and safe and I like sleeping in his bed. Oh, I like to sleep….

     “Do you think you deserve to after what you have done today?”

    The boy’s head dropped, his lower lip trembled. “No.”

    “Then why did you feel it necessary to ask. Now take my hand.

You don’t have your glasses on and I don’t want you to fall. And

don’t start crying. There’s nothing to cry about. What you did today

was wrong, and this is your punishment—tonight you sleep alone.”