Birds || Fuenciado

Chapter 23: The Same Eyes on Different People

Tuesday goes down like a lead balloon. I take a day's compassionate leave, as Jaime suggested - Mom almost does too, when she sees the state of Mike on Monday evening. In fact, I hear her and Dad up late discussing if they can both afford to take a day off each; but they can't, so it's me and Mike alone.

He's okay for a few hours before he has a huge breakdown and starts crying and shaking uncontrollably - and once more, all I can do is offer my hand, and let him work it out himself, touch his fingers to mine and then interlock them. The most I can give of a hug while he cries.

On Wednesday morning, I'm set to go into work again, and Mike is going to have to go to school; but just as I'm pulling on my jacket, Mom and Dad already out of the house, there are footsteps on the stairs. When I look up, he's standing halfway down them, hand on the railing, still wearing his pyjamas, and I frown. "Mikey, come on, you're going to have to go to school today."

"I can't," he mutters, the first words he's uttered since Monday. "I can't go. I can't go back there."

I know I'm too lenient; but I relent almost immediately, tilting my head, and he stiffly sits down, right there on the stairs. When has Mike ever been this reluctant? How can I possibly make him go to school when he's had breakdowns two days in a row?

"What do you want to do?" I ask, taking my jacket back off and heading for the stairs, climbing up them slowly and sitting down a few steps below him. I want to do my best to put him in control, here - I get the feeling it's the only control he has. He blinks, unable to hold eye contact with me, and then looks down the stairs instead.

"I want to stay," he says softly, glancing at me briefly, and I bite my lip. I suppose I can afford another day.

"Okay," I say, nodding surely. "Okay. I'll stay too. But if we're staying home, we're going to do something, okay?"

He doesn't say anything - this is happening a lot. It's as if someone took his tongue away sometime between me dropping him off at school on Monday and him texting me later on. "We're going to make life easier for Mom," I say astutely, determined. "We're going to sort things out a bit. Do some washing up, some laundry, some tidying. Bits and pieces. Maybe some ironing. You know what? We can even get Tony to come over. Would you like Tony to come over?"

After a moment's hesitation, he nods, attempting a smile. For the first time since I've ever known him, the smile looks out of place on his features.

I call in once more. Take another day's compassionate leave - by the looks of things, I tell Alan regretfully, I probably won't be in Friday either. But then I hang up, get changed back into some normal clothes, and decide we're at least going to try to get on with life today. Maybe injecting some boring normality into Mike's life will be helpful. Maybe he'll get through today without crying.

He scurries back to his room, door closed behind him, Good Charlotte CD playing loudly on his stereo, and I go to take a shower, letting the spray soak away the confusion and the fear that comes with the sudden change in my brother, closing my eyes for a moment, focusing on the way the water bounces off my skin and runs down my back and across my shoulders and drips off my nose...how did everything become such a mess so quickly? I can't catch up on what's going on; I don't even understand what's going on. Taking care of Mike, I've abandoned work...I haven't so much as glanced at my college application forms, which I should be editing ready to send off in the next week or so. Have I been neglecting my other relationships because I've been so wrapped up in the Clairemont business? Have I neglected Alex? Have I neglected Jaime too?

"Fuck," I whisper to myself, sagging, running a hand through my hair. And I feel, between my fingers, a sizeable clump come out, and I open my eyes and look at my hand.