all.
“No more fighting. I promise,” I said.
Sarah and I spent the two hours that the boys
were at the theater filling out job applications at one store after
another. Most were hiring seasonal employees and paid extra for weekend
shifts when adults with children often opted not to work. This was
especially important to Sarah, who genuinely needed the income to help support
her family. All I could think about was how Branson was going to work at the
hardware store and there was not a thing I was going to be able to do about it.
Later that night, after Branson and I were home,
I heard my mom in his room saying goodnight to him. My ears perked up
when I heard him say my name. I crept stealthily into the hallway and
attempt to hear what they were discussing. With my ear as close to the
door as I dared, I eavesdropped on their conversation.
“I was kind of scared, Mom,” Branson said.
“She got all weird and freaked out. She’s not usually so, well, you know, girlie .”
“Maybe she’s just moody, Branson. It’s not
atypical for girls to be emotional like that,” my mother responded.
“Maybe not, but it’s weird for Brooke to cry like
that for no reason. I swear Mom, Chad got in the car and she lost her
mind. I don’t know what set her off. Between that and the stupid
job thing, she’s stressing me out,” Branson added.
“Give her some space. I’ll try to talk to
her and see if I can find out what’s going on. You’re a good brother for
caring, even if she is ‘stressing you out.’”
Branson’s bed creaked as my mother stood
up. I cautiously made my way back to my room and busied myself with some
laundry, knowing my mother’s next stop would be my room. Sure enough,
seconds later, there was a light rapping on the door.
“Yeah,” I said.
She opened the door just enough to peek her head
in. “Just coming to say good night,” she said.
“Night,” I responded guardedly.
“How was the job hunt?”
“Fine,” I answered. “I don’t know if I’m
actually going to do it. I’ve got lots of schoolwork. Plus, I have
to finish all those college applications. It might not be the best time.”
“Whatever you want to do is fine. See you
in the morning,” she said. And with that, she was gone.
There was no discussion of my lapse in
sanity. I did not quite know what to make of it, but I was grateful for
it nonetheless. I had decided that, if I was going to be unable to get
Branson to come work at the mall, there was no reason to further alter the
timeline by getting a job that I had never held the first time around.
Also, I reasoned, if I did not get a job, I could use the extra time to mill
around the hardware store and see what I could dig up about the attic.
I had learned during my trip that I managed best
when I felt like I was making progress with the plan. After Mother left,
I found myself unable to hold back tears for the second time that night.
Instead of moving forward, I felt like Alice descending the rabbit hole into a
land where nothing made sense. The clay lion my father had given me was
tucked away in my nightstand drawer. I took it out and held it in my
hands. If only I could have channeled the courage of that smiling
lion. I prayed silently that the cream was indeed the cause of Branson’s
disease and that the hardware store attic would be inconsequential.
Something deep inside whispered that I was wrong.
C HAPTER T EN
I peeled off my jacket and tied it around my
waist as I traipsed through the remains of the snowfall from the week
before. I wished I had worn my sneakers, as the snow was nothing more
than small dirty piles mottling the ground. The boots I had worn instead
only slowed me down and made my feet sweaty. Between the boots and the
blazing sun, which seemed unusually warm for December, I was glad to be almost
to my destination.
I made my way around to the rear
“No more fighting. I promise,” I said.
Sarah and I spent the two hours that the boys
were at the theater filling out job applications at one store after
another. Most were hiring seasonal employees and paid extra for weekend
shifts when adults with children often opted not to work. This was
especially important to Sarah, who genuinely needed the income to help support
her family. All I could think about was how Branson was going to work at the
hardware store and there was not a thing I was going to be able to do about it.
Later that night, after Branson and I were home,
I heard my mom in his room saying goodnight to him. My ears perked up
when I heard him say my name. I crept stealthily into the hallway and
attempt to hear what they were discussing. With my ear as close to the
door as I dared, I eavesdropped on their conversation.
“I was kind of scared, Mom,” Branson said.
“She got all weird and freaked out. She’s not usually so, well, you know, girlie .”
“Maybe she’s just moody, Branson. It’s not
atypical for girls to be emotional like that,” my mother responded.
“Maybe not, but it’s weird for Brooke to cry like
that for no reason. I swear Mom, Chad got in the car and she lost her
mind. I don’t know what set her off. Between that and the stupid
job thing, she’s stressing me out,” Branson added.
“Give her some space. I’ll try to talk to
her and see if I can find out what’s going on. You’re a good brother for
caring, even if she is ‘stressing you out.’”
Branson’s bed creaked as my mother stood
up. I cautiously made my way back to my room and busied myself with some
laundry, knowing my mother’s next stop would be my room. Sure enough,
seconds later, there was a light rapping on the door.
“Yeah,” I said.
She opened the door just enough to peek her head
in. “Just coming to say good night,” she said.
“Night,” I responded guardedly.
“How was the job hunt?”
“Fine,” I answered. “I don’t know if I’m
actually going to do it. I’ve got lots of schoolwork. Plus, I have
to finish all those college applications. It might not be the best time.”
“Whatever you want to do is fine. See you
in the morning,” she said. And with that, she was gone.
There was no discussion of my lapse in
sanity. I did not quite know what to make of it, but I was grateful for
it nonetheless. I had decided that, if I was going to be unable to get
Branson to come work at the mall, there was no reason to further alter the
timeline by getting a job that I had never held the first time around.
Also, I reasoned, if I did not get a job, I could use the extra time to mill
around the hardware store and see what I could dig up about the attic.
I had learned during my trip that I managed best
when I felt like I was making progress with the plan. After Mother left,
I found myself unable to hold back tears for the second time that night.
Instead of moving forward, I felt like Alice descending the rabbit hole into a
land where nothing made sense. The clay lion my father had given me was
tucked away in my nightstand drawer. I took it out and held it in my
hands. If only I could have channeled the courage of that smiling
lion. I prayed silently that the cream was indeed the cause of Branson’s
disease and that the hardware store attic would be inconsequential.
Something deep inside whispered that I was wrong.
C HAPTER T EN
I peeled off my jacket and tied it around my
waist as I traipsed through the remains of the snowfall from the week
before. I wished I had worn my sneakers, as the snow was nothing more
than small dirty piles mottling the ground. The boots I had worn instead
only slowed me down and made my feet sweaty. Between the boots and the
blazing sun, which seemed unusually warm for December, I was glad to be almost
to my destination.
I made my way around to the rear
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