Not My Hero - Michelle Heard Page 0,6

press a kiss to the side of her head. “Want me to bring you something to drink.”

She shakes her head and burying her face in her pillow, she grips my arm and pulls me closer. “Can you just stay with me a little while?”

I snuggle back down and begin to talk about the first thing that comes to my mind. “There’s a girl at school. Her name is Brie.”

“Yeah?” Mom’s voice cracks over the single word.

“She draws really well.”

I don’t know why I’m bringing up Brie.

“I’m glad you’re making friends,” Mom mumbles.

I don’t correct her. The last thing I want is to worry my mother unnecessarily.

I stay with Mom for a couple of minutes longer, then say, “I’m going to get started with my homework.”

She nods. “Let me know if you need help with anything.”

“Sure.” I won’t, though. I do my best to be the strong one so Mom can just heal.

I give her one last squeeze, then get up and go to my own room. I sit down and open my laptop, deciding to work on the essay Mr. Donati gave us.

Why did I choose history?

Cause it’s easy, and I just want to pass my senior year so I can look after my mother.

I begin to type, explaining it in detail. He’ll either give me an A or ask the counselor to meet with me. Either way, I’m not going to lie.

My entire life has been built on lies. My future sure as hell won’t be.

After two hours of working on the essay, I stretch out to loosen my muscles. I go to change into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and slip on my sneakers. Heading out to the backyard, I pull the lawnmower out of the shed.

The sun is setting by the time I’m done mowing the lawn. Walking back to the house, I pull my t-shirt off and use it to wipe the sweat from my face and back of my neck. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and chug it down as I go to throw the shirt in the laundry basket.

I kick off the sneakers and get a fresh shirt to pull on, then head back to the kitchen.

I take two steaks from the freezer and put them in some hot water so they can thaw, thinking I should’ve taken them out earlier.

I’ve gotten used to cooking for us. It’s either that or take-out, and I can’t stomach junk food anymore.

My thoughts go back to school while I prepare dinner. None of the students stood out. Well, except for Brie. The rest are the same as at my previous school.

I wonder what Brie’s story is. Is she just an introvert, or is there more?

From experience, I know how easy it is to hide abuse. God, you do everything in your power so people won’t find out.

We didn’t lie so my father wouldn’t get in trouble. We did it so people wouldn’t pity us.

Fuck, if only I had said something. If only I’d done more.

Then Brady would still be here.

When the food is ready, I prepare a plate for Mom. Grabbing a bottle of water and cutlery, I set it all on a tray. I carry the meal to her room and say, “Time to eat.”

She lets out a groan.

“Come on. I tried something new with the steak. I grilled it in butter and garlic.”

Mom sits up and wipes the hair out of her face. I set the tray down and whisper, “It would really make me happy if you eat half of it at least.”

It’s a low blow, but if I don’t guilt-trip her, she doesn’t eat.

I wait for her to take a bite of the steak. Mom gives me a weak smile. “My son, the chef. It’s delicious.”

Pleased that she’s eating, I go grab the book I’m reading and walk back to the kitchen. Taking my plate, I go sit outside on the porch.

Eating, I stare out over the lawn. I spent the summer planting shrubs and flowers. Mom always loved gardening, and I hoped it would draw her out of the house. But it didn’t.

When I’m finished with the meal, I read for a while before I go back inside to clean the kitchen. Grabbing the tray from Mom’s room, I smile when I see that she ate most of the food.

“It was really good,” she murmurs, “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome.” I finish the chores then settle in at my desk to continue with my homework.

Our life here