Tight-Knit Family

We Laugh, We Fumble, We Take It Day by Day

Emma

"We gotta go." Dylan said, throwing his phone in his backpack and grabbing my arm. "Niki, Caleb, I love you both dearly, but it's kind of an emergency." 

"Before you just grab my arm and charge out of the school like you're running a marathon, can you at least tell me what's going on? Twin to twin?" I said. Dylan sighed and said, "I would prefer that we not do it in front of our whole entire grade but-"

"Wait, is it that serious?" I asked, and that's when I saw tears line Dylan's eyes.

"I'll go out in the hallway and tell you, but it has to be fast, we have to get out of here." Dylan said, grabbing my hand and running out of the cafeteria, ignoring the stares of kids in our grade. 

Before heading out the front door of the school to meet Papa, Dylan stopped me in the hallway and pulled me aside. 

"Seriously, Dylan, you're scaring me. What's going on?" I said. Dylan took a deep breath then reached for my hand.

"Em, it's Dad. He's in the hospital." Dylan said. "I'm not sure why or how, but Papa called me at lunch and said we were getting picked up to go see him."

The world stopped. I didn't know how to feel, what to think. My family was just starting to heal from what happened to us, I don't think any of us expected a blow so soon.

"Hey, Em. I know this is scary, but it'll be okay." Dylan said. 

"Do you know if we're going to lose him?" I said, completely cutting off the rest of my brother's sentence.

"I- Em, I really don't know. I'm just a kid, I'm not a doctor and the information Papa gave me on that call was so vague that I can't even begin to piece together what could possibly be going on." Dylan said. 

I nodded slowly, realizing that I would be living in a world of uncertainty for a bit. 

"Alright then. Let's go."

________

"Hey Papa." 

"Hey, kids. How was school?" Papa asked, in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood.

"School was fi-"

"I don't really want to talk about it." Dylan said, cutting me off and shoving past me. "All I want to know is how to fix the mess that this family has become."

"Pickle. You don't have to 'fix' anything, you know that? You even said it earlier, we're just kids. Neither of us are in any way responsible for any of this." I said.

"Em." Cordelia said, tapping me on the shoulder.

"Yeah?" I said, turning around. "What's up?"

"Do you mind if I talk to you? In private?" Cordelia said. I nodded slowly and before Cordelia ushered me out, I ran over to my brother and gave him a hug.

"Pickle, Auntie wants to talk to me for a few minutes. Hang in there, I'll be right back." I said, Dylan nodding sadly as I ran out of the hospital room. 

"Hey, Em, I'm worried about your brother. Um, this may seem like a weird question, but do you know why he may be acting like this? Charlie and I were talking the other day and we thought we should ask you, you've known him a lot longer than we have and we just want to help." Cordelia said, pulling me into a corner.

I sighed, tapping my foot on the ground. "Well, you know how Dylan always mentions that neither of us remember Jamaica that well since we were so young when we moved? That's...a lie. We do remember it, Dylan more than me. But, and I'm actually getting to the point here...Dylan has a vivid, haunting memory that I don't. He watched our parents die."

"Oh my God. You mean..."

"Dylan never liked to bring it up. For a while, he didn't want to bring up that we were from Jamaica because really, the only memory he has of our country is his parents dying. I wasn't there when it happened, but I remember Dylan running down the street saying that 'Pa's work is on fire, Pa's work is on fire,' taking my hand, and we both sprinted off to find our grandparents. I don't remember why but they couldn't take care of us, and we ended up in America. It's not Dylan's fault, he's just haunted by it all and I think seeing Dad sick and watching our family kind of fall apart with the breakup and everything got Dylan back into the mindset that he isn't a good son. Or a good brother. For years he blamed himself for our parent's deaths, keep in mind, we were four. I kept trying to tell him that it wasn't his fault, but he never really listened, and I don't think he ever really got over their deaths." 

"Em, I'm so sorry, I didn't know." Cordelia said.

"It's not your fault, nobody really knows except Dylan's friends at the orphanage. Just please, please don't bring this up to Dylan. He's already in such a bad mental state, I don't want anyone to bring this up to him and make it worse." I said. 

"Alright, Em. Is it okay if I tell Charlie and your dads and the others, though? They love you and your brother to bits and they just want to help." Cordelia asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, that's fine. Hey, I'm gonna go back in the room if that's okay. I want to see how Pickle's doing and say hi to Dad."

"Alright, Em. And just remember, everything will be alright."

Everything will be alright.

Maybe Cordelia was right. Maybe everything would be alright.