horrible words. True words. And it one hundred percent describes what my father did to me. Why didn’t I stop him? Deep down I knew it was wrong, but he’s my dad. Is he still, I wonder?
Victim is a frequent word on the pages. I see it over and over, and every time I read it, I feel myself becoming more of one.
“Put down your phone,” Aunt Sylvia says. “You kids spend too much time on those silly things.”
I put it in my pocket, not wanting her to see what I was searching. “There’s nothing else to do.”
“That’s ridiculous. You can go swimming. It’s a beautiful day outside.”
“I went swimming yesterday.”
What I don’t tell her is I have to force myself to go in the pool. It’s the last place I saw Luke. Every time I’m there, I see him looking sad. I hear him telling me I’m a good brother. No way would I go in it today, on the anniversary of his death. Not one person has said anything about it either. It’s like they’ve completely forgotten him.
“How about playing that guitar of yours? I heard you the other day. You’re getting quite good.”
“Okay,” I say and shuffle away.
I go to the east wing, where Helen and a few of the other servants stay. I can’t complain much though. This room is way nicer than my old one, and I get my very own bathroom. Mom’s door is open. She’s sitting in a chair, watching soap operas. It’s all she ever does. Well, that and drink. She used to tell me it was soda, but I know better now. She stumbles a lot and slurs her words. She’s so thin I can see her collarbone jutting out. One day a few months ago, I said something about how skinny she was. That was the last time she ever sat by the pool with me. She hardly ever joins us for dinner anymore. When I bring her food, she throws it away.
It’s almost like I lost her too. Helen is the one person here who seems to like me. And maybe Gus, the man who drives me to school and activities. I guess Aunt Sylvia does too, but I think she wanted kids of her own, not someone else’s. She’s nice to me, but she always seems sad.
I’ve learned to stay out of Dirk’s way. He grumbles a lot when he sees me. Thankfully he’s not home much, and I pretty much have the run of the place. But it’s not the same without Sally. Dirk said Aunt Sylvia is allergic to dogs, so we couldn’t bring her, even though I begged and said I’d keep her in the east wing.
I really miss Sally.
I stop in the doorway. “Hi, Mom.”
She holds up a finger. “Shh, this is the good part.”
I wait in silence until a commercial break, then go in and sit on her bed. “I was going to play guitar. I’ve been learning a new song if you want to hear it.”
“Oh, baby.” She sips her drink. “Today isn’t a good day. You understand. Why don’t you come back tomorrow?”
At least she remembers.
“Yeah, sure.” I leave, knowing full well she’ll be passed out on the bed by nightfall.
Helen appears. “Your friend Chris is here.”
My eyes light up. “Can he come to my room?”
“Of course. I think Ms. Sylvia called his mother. She worries about you, mijo. I do, too. We want you to be happy.”
I glance at Mom’s door and know that will never be possible. I feel small moments of pleasure sometimes, fun even, but not happiness.
When Crew comes to my room, he’s carrying a large rectangular black case. “What’s in there?”
“My mom got it for me. It’s a keyboard.”
“Cool. Let me see.”
He sets it on the desk. “You can make it sound like a piano or an organ or even a guitar. Here, listen.” He plays a few random notes.
“Can you play any songs?”
“Not yet. Mom said she’ll get me lessons.”
“Maybe you could learn some of the songs I know, and we can play together.”
“That would be fun. Hey, we should start a band.”
I call him crazy.
“I’m serious. You’ve been playing your guitar for hours every day since … Well, you’re really good. I can get good on the keyboard. And you know I can sing. We’re halfway there.”