My brother Max

2

We skip into the forest, keeping in mind our bare feet. After about 100 feet, we come upon the creek. I turn around as Max strips off his overalls, shirt, and undies. He climbs into the deepest part of the creek and swims around, I taught him how to swim a year ago. Turning back around I wash his body and hair with the soap, rinsing as I go. He clambers back out of the creek and I dry him off, he covers his ‘pee pee’ because he says that he doesn’t like it. He gets back on his clothes and sits on a rock, facing away, playing with the toys I stole from the pharmacy. They are old and dirty but they keep him occupied. I wash myself quickly as the creek water is colder today. My long hair takes a long time to wash as the creek gets filled with a foamy top layer, and just makes my hair soapy again.

    After a struggle to keep my hair rinsed, I grab the towel off the limb I set it on after Max. It is still damp, but it will dry me off. As I go through drying my body, I put on my clothes as well. My hair stays tied up in the towel so that it will dry; and just before I get to the house, I will take it off because last time, she had thought I had taken a shower, and had hit me until I couldn’t see. I shudder thinking about my mother, I love her, but she’s horrible to me; I only take it because I know Max couldn’t.
   
    We walk quietly inside, because Mother is paranoid. I walk Max into our room, and tuck him into his crib; he always has a nap after a bath. I step slowly, making sure that the boards don’t croak under my feet. I look around the corner of the kitchen, watching as my mother scratches at the cabinets, lying on the floor with a foamy mouth. ‘Mac and Cheese’ sits on the stove sizzling and popping. I step around her and stir the cheesy goodness. My mother looks from me to the cabinet she is scratching like an animal. In a bowl, I scoop out a good portion of the macaroni and set it on the floor. She hisses at me and scoops the food out of the bowl and into her mouth. I hate it when she’s like this. But the voices say it is all part of the plan.

    It was almost 12:00 pm before I could convince Mother to go to her bed. The lock on the door is secured and before I get to my bed, I have to eat. Max had already scarfed down more than his share of pasta, but I didn’t mind; he was growing anyway. I sat on the floor, next to the scratched up cabinet, eating the cold pasta and letting the tears roll down my cheeks. Only if Dad were still here.