I awake to find myself panting and covered in a sickly sheen of sweat. A small bundle is snuggled up beside me. Shannon. She must have had a bad dream and come to sleep in here.
Shannon mumbles something in her sleep and her six year old body flops nosily. Eventually, I become curious of the time and grab the tiny alarm clock. The glowing red numbers inform me it’s only 1:24 and I cannot go back to sleep. From the window I can see the clouds outside roll onwards and it reminds of the day after my dad died. I was eight and Shannon was only two. At 6 years, she is only interested in having a father figure, she has no idea how our real dad was and I hope she never knows. That day, she told me Dad’s big safe was gone and she heard loud pop’s from the woods. I knew, with a sinking heart what she had heard but I was too much of a coward to check. I called a neighbor and they found my father’s body next to a thorn bush. Dad had been sick for a long time and I was almost happy he couldn’t disappoint Mom any more. No one could find Mom for hours until Shannon pointed her out from our bedroom window. She was standing out in the rain alone, back to us, crying in the rain. Since that day in the rain, she hasn’t been our mother. Not really anyways. But sure, what do I care if she would rather be with Paul, her new boyfriend, than take Shannon to outside each morning and walk her to school. At least Shannon has me.
A hand touches my spine and I jerk around in bed, whacking my elbow on the frame. I let loose with my personal favorite curse word, howling and rubbing the throbbing wound.
“You cussed,” states tiny Shannon, her little hands placed on her chubby baby hips.
“No, I didn’t.”
Her face screws up in confusion. A tantrum is guaranteed to follow soon. As of the past couple months, anything has been setting her off. I am the only one who knows how to handle her when she gets like this.
“Let’s go to the park,” I say, trying to distract her so she will not wake anyone up. Her face goes slack for a moment, then lights up. “Kay, but we haveta go tell Mommy and Paul.”
I grimace, not wanting to wake them and ask like a little kid. “How about, instead of disturbing Mom and Paul,” I spit the names, “we just got by ourselves?”
“But Mommy always says I haveta ask her before I go anywhere.”
“Don’t worry, sweetie, you’ll be with me. I give you permission.”
“But…,” she trails off. “Whatsa matter? Scared?” I taunt.
“No,” she cries with a smile, taking the bait. “Great,” I mutter, thankful for the temporary distraction. I toss her my sweatshirt; she must be freezing; her whole body is trembling under my touch.
She pulls the tattered thing over her head, where it hangs off her like a dress. Her white blond hair makes the sweatshirt look even dirtier in comparison and her mouth, adorned with cherry-red lips, are slightly slanted. Shannon has autism , and although her beauty distracts people from seeing it at first, sometimes they stare at her, marveling over her angelic appearance, and they watch, for a moment too long, and a dark look passes their face. They know. They can tell from the way she blinks in slow motion and her mouth opens and closes in the same repetition when she thinks. She isn’t stupid, but she lives through things that most people don’t understand. She is only different, not stupid.
“Jooo-eeeeyyyy! Hurry up! I wanna go noo-oooww!”
“Hold your horses,” I draw out, teasing her, as I grab my wallet. I’d take the keys to the family car but lately Paul has been locking them up in his room like he owns them, so we have to walk. It’s not like we would be sleeping anyways, I know Shannon has nightmares too. Shannon snickers and I bend down to roll up her pant legs, which are nearly twice as long as her actual legs. “Let’s go,” I say, taking her tiny hand in mine.
Hours later, after we’ve picked the lock at the local playground and Shannon has tired herself out with the monkey bars, we sit on the swing where we push lazily off the dusty ground, the stars and moon the only light we need. Shannon leaps of the swing and lands on her feet, perfectly balanced with her arms outstretched, and hop over to me. She hoists herself up on my lap and places her head is the hollow of my shoulder and her breathing grows heavy. I rock us both and Shannon becomes heavier and heavier, but her weight is more of a comfort than a burden. The bone white moon shines down on us and throws our faces into something ghostly. Almost a premonition hits me when I look at the way the moon makes me bones sparkle, like this is all coming to an end soon.
“Joey?” Words, sprinkled with sleep, travel to my ears.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, sweetie.” I kiss the top of her head and she throws an arm around my neck and buries her face in my chest.
“Joey?” She calls again, her already soft voice muffled by my shirt.
“Yes?”
“Will you promise me something?”
“Anything.”
“Promise you will never leave me.” My breath catches in my throat and I take in too much air, choking on the whole thing. “Don’t leave me like Daddy.”
“I will never leave you, Shannon. I love you more than anything in the world. You are my world, baby sis.” She breathes in heavily and finds this satisfactory and nods to sleep by inches. “I will never leave you. Not like Dad,” I say to the night sky.
The sun warms my cheeks and it startles me just enough to wake me up. Shannon is still on my lap and the sun is peeking over the tree tops. I’m guessing it’s about 8 o’clock. Mom will be freaking out. As carefully as I can, I pick up Shannon, who doesn’t wake up, and start on the half mile walk home.
“Joseph? Shannon?” The voice comes before I can even get in the door. Mom comes into view. She looks worse than usual this morning. Her mouth and eyes are lined with wrinkles and her eyelids are half closed, like she can hardly stand to see anything else. “Where were you? Are you okay? What happened?”
“Of course we’re fine. We’re always fine.” I resent her for the way she talks to me, like I’m five instead of almost grown.
“You can’t do that to me. You are just a child, honey; you can’t run off like that. I know you might be able to be alright, but Shannon’s just a baby.”
“I would never let anything happen to Shannon,” I growl.
“That may be so, but accidents happen, kid.” Paul enters the room, dressed in a button down shirt and jeans. He is holding a towel, vainly trying to dry his receding hair. He throws off the towel and holds his arms out for Shannon.
“I’ve got her,” I hiss, clutching her closer. Paul shrugs and combs back his ink black hair. Shannon is getting heavy in my arms after the long walk home, but I’m not about to give Paul the satisfaction. Mom smacks her lips together with a sigh but I know her well enough that she won’t dare say anything to me about this. Half the time I don’t even think she has words worth saying. Carefully, I carry Shannon back to her room, tucking her in and leaving her with a kiss on the forehead.
I go back to the kitchen and Paul and Mom quickly stop talking when I enter the room. I pretend not to notice and open the fridge.
“I’ve made breakfast,” says Mom softly, offering me an omelet that has been doused thoroughly in salt. I’m still mad at her so when I answer, I become nasty.
“I’m not eating that.”
“Respect your parents,” Paul snips, taking the omelet from her and smothering it in ketchup.
“You mean respect my mother. I don’t have to respect any father.” I can tell the words sting them both but I don’t particularly care.
Paul opens his mouth, but Mom puts her hand on his and says, “I think it’s time to tell him.”
“Tell me what?” I demand, neck snapping to attention.
Paul takes a long sip of water, deliberately to irk me and speaks slowly. “We are moving.”
“Moving ? Where?” The news doesn’t actually upset me, as far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing here to miss but bad memories.
“Texas. Right on the border in a small town named McAllen. It will be nice and warm, which will be good for your mother, since the cold has been hurting her joints. It’s a spilt-level with two bedrooms. You’ll get your own room now, kid.”
I ignore the “kid” comment. “My own room? But if it has two bedrooms and you and my mother take one and I take one, where is Shannon sleeping?”
Paul and Mom’s eyes meet meaningfully. “You see, that’s the thing.”
The truth dawns on me. “What? Shannon’s not coming? Where is she going? What are you doing with her?” I spit the words accusingly at them, venom fills my chest.
“She will be staying with Aunt Leslie, sweetie.” Mom’s words are kind, but I’m outraged.
“If you’re sending her away because of her autism, you can’t. She is making so much progress. You are so heartless!”
“This is hard on all of us. But it’s what’s best for her.”
“Are you sure this isn’t just what’s best for the two of you?”
“Joseph. Stop it. Don’t think this is only tough on you. I love her too, you know. She needs more help than we can afford. You aunt is willing to take her in and care for her in ways we can’t provide.”
“When?” The word is cold and fills me with dread when they answer because it means it’s real.
“Aunt Leslie is coming tonight. She’ll be taking Shannon after dinner. Please don’t say anything and let that temper out. You’ll only make problems worse. We are moving in only a week.”
“A week? What about our stuff?”
“There isn’t that much to take.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I whine, knowing I’m losing and sounding as helpless as I feel.
“I’ve gotten a job down there for a drilling company. Your mother and I have only known since yesterday,” Paul interjects.
“Please, honey, try to understand. The company will pay for our travel and it’s only so much longer before the bank kicks us out. Texas is our only shot.” Mom’s voice cracks and I can’t bring myself to hate her. “Please go look nice for Aunt Leslie. She is only helping us out here.”
I huff, nothing I say will convince them. An acute pain is blooming behind my eyebrow. “When are we telling Shannon?”
Mom places her hand on my arm. “We aren’t.”
Pacing the tiny distance of the rancher house, I do everything to put off thinking. When I do enter my room, I find Shannon hutched over her drawing pad. When she sees me she holds up a portrait of me holding her on the swing. A heart looms over us and she scribbled in her best 6-year old handing writing, “I LOVE MY BIG BROTHER!!!”
“It’s for you” she says, holding it out to me. The edge is crumpled where she ripped it from the drawing pad. “It’s beautiful,” I tell her. As much as I will it not to, something slips out of the corner of my eye.
“Joey? Why you crying?” She touches the crystalline trail on my face.
“No reason, Shan.”
It becomes my job to make sure Shannon looks nice and keep her entertained outside, without getting her dirty, while Paul packs up her belongings. When she runs, I watch her hair trail behind her, and then it hits me. This is the last time I will see her. For weeks, months, years even. I struggle to memorize her, my baby sister. I hate him. I hate that scum who will separate me from Shannon. He may have convinced my mother, but I am different. I am stronger than her. Then him. I am stronger than everyone out here. I will never stop fighting him.
I am still watching Shannon dance in clouds of dust when a tan car pulls up. Aunt Leslie tentatively steps out. She scans the house, her lips curling at the yard. When she sees Shannon covered in dust, she narrows her eyes. I wipe my hands quickly on my shirt and stand up to greet her.
Meaningless sentiments are passed out and I guide her inside. She runs to Mom, grabbing her in a hug. “Linda, dear! It really has been too long. You are looking fabulous for your age, I mean considering everything that has happened to you. I’d be a wreck after my husband, well you know.” It is a well given blow and I see Mom cringe. But Aunt Leslie is right. Mom is a mess. Black circles, wrinkles, a belt of fat, everything is there. Even her blonde hair is faded and dull.
Dinner is exactly the same, Leslie speaking about working for the government, her darling little dogs, and of course, the handsome salt-and-peppered man next door. When she begins to speak of the brilliance of her 2 year old purebred American Staffordshire terrier, I interject.“Shannon hates dogs.”
Leslie stops short, fixing me with a beady glare. “I’m sure in time; Shannon will come to love them.”
“She is terrified of them. Barking, growling, even when they are playing.”
“Hmph. Well, to be quite frank, Shannon won’t exactly be living with me at first. I don’t want her to go crazy while in my care.”
“What?” Mom and I explode at the same time. I catch her eye and see the shock in her eyes, the fire returning to them. In my head, I will her to fight.
“A-hem. I thought Paul might have enlightened you to this fact. Otherwise I wouldn’t have even bothered mentioning it.”
Mom shoots a glare at Paul before turning back on Leslie. “It seems you should tell us now.”
“Oh, well, you must understand, I never thought I’d be in this position.” Leslie squirms under six flaming eyes. “There is this very good doctor in the area. I’ve checked all his references, his history, patients’ records, why I even checked his college records.”
“And?” Mom barks.
“He runs this experimental clinic. For people like Shannon. Therapy and whatnot. She will be surrounded by people and the very best nursing staff. He can actually cure people of that horrifying disease. Imagine it! Retards will be a thing of the past!”
“She is not a retard!” I scream. I should rip out all of her falsely colored extensions. “It’s people like you who are retards. You are so scared of something you don’t understand. You have no idea what goes on in her head.”
“So you want me to believe that you do understand? Joseph, face the facts, you are more like us than her.” It’s Paul’s voice that says this, but I can’t seem to see his lips moving.
“I am nothing like you! I would never lock up someone who is different and expect my problems to be fixed by someone I don’t even know!” I shove my chair back and the table shakes from the effort. I am shaking from anger. I rip open the front door and stumble down the steps. I want to set this house on fire and watch it burn. I want to burn, fueled by the screams of Paul as his skin melts of his greasy body.
“Paul , he is right. Leslie, I would have never expected this from you.” My mother protests from inside. Everything sounds weak and muted.
“Leslie,” Paul’s voice is steely, “I am sorry for the embarrassment my family is causing. Could you please step outside and try to find Joseph before he does something foolish?”
“Of course,” she mumbles. When the door opens, I debate running from her. I decide against it. I have nowhere to go. She sits down on the step and as I watch, her body crumbles, like she is worn out from fighting. She places her head in her hands. “Where is Shannon?”
“Inside, sleeping. She got tired from playing.” There is still fire in my words.
“Joe, please listen to me. I know you will hate me from this but I am trying to do the right thing.” I open my mouth to respond, but a scream comes out. This time, it isn’t from me. Something follows the scream, something softer, more desperate. Sick dread dawns on me. I race up the steps, over Leslie and pound on the door. It’s locked and I never put the key back under the fake rock. Everything goes silent. “Mom! Mom! Oh God, Mom!” I yell till I’m hoarse. Upstairs, I can hear Shannon getting upset and then, like a miracle, I hear my mom comforting her. She is okay. Okay enough to get around to Shannon. I slip down the steps into sitting position. Next to me, Leslie is sobbing.
“Don’t you see,” she whispers, “this is why I have to take Shannon away from this.”
“I’ll kill him.” Blood pounds through my ears and my heart rises to my throat. “I swear to you, I will kill him.”
Her hand is unexpected when she slaps me in the face. “Don’t you ever say that again!”
“That is my mother!”
“And that is my sister. My childhood best friend. And I know if there is anything she could ask from me, only one thing, it would be to protect you kids.”
I have to know, I have to. “How long has this been happening?”
“Not long. But I knew it would. After what your father did, she was destroyed. It makes sense why she went to Paul. He could take care of her and her kids. “
“But we don’t need him anymore! I can take care of us.”
“Maybe so, but no one foresaw Shannon having autism or your mother becoming too attached to Paul.” She is speaking so low I can barely hear her. “I’m not the bad guy, please understand that. Shannon will get help and I could never desert her in an institution. In special cases with young children, they are allowed to have a guardian stay with them. I will be with her until she has been in their care for a year or gets better. Whichever comes first.”
“Can I have a number so I can call her when I want to talk to her?”
She shakes her head sadly, “No phone calls are allowed. I won’t let her forget you though.”
As much as I hate her, I almost believe her when she says this.
The door crashes open behind us, and I jump to my feet. Paul is holding Shannon on his hip. She blinks in the dulling sunlight. “Here is Sleeping Beauty!” His voice is too cheery. “Joe, be a gentlemen and get the ladies bags. Where should I put her, Leslie?”
“I’ve got a car seat all set up in the back.” She takes Shannon and places her in the seat. My mother appears too and helps her adjust the straps. I don’t see a mark on her, but of course Paul is smart enough to avoid leaving marks that show.
Shannon fusses with the seat belt.“Road trip, road trip!” She chants, clapping her hands. I walk to her and this time when I look at her, I know it is the last time I will see her for years, at least until I get rid of Paul hanging over my mother and I.
“Shan, I love you. I love you more then you will ever know.” I tell her this as I speak into her ear and I am so urgent for her to understand. To show some sign she knows and will love me still. Her face stays blank and then… nothing. She doesn’t know. She can’t tell. “Goodbye.” I kiss her on the cheek and step out of the car.
“Joey! Where are you goin’? JOEY! C’MERE! JOOOOEEEEYYYY!” She starts throwing herself against the seat harness, pulling the seat and fake leather seats. She really begins crying then, throwing herself into a tantrum. Aunt Leslie gets in the car and starts it up. “Don’t leave!” Shannon hollers. “You promised!”
“I know,” I say softly, swallowing the hard lump mashed in my throat, “I promised.” I can still hear her crying when Leslie takes her away.