Status: Finished.
Ebony and Irony
3
I stumbled down the stairs, Claudio using my ponytail as a rein once he caught up to me, damn his long legs, and almost fell into Mr. Sanchez. He gave us a surprised look before booming out into laughter and walking into the living room. In five minutes, he wouldn't remember his own name. It made me cry some nights.
"There you are!" Mrs. Sanchez scolded, waggling a finger at us with a smile that was supposed to be disapproving, but lost all weight next to her eyes. Claude and I glanced at one another, grins spreading evenly, before he let go of my hair, and ruffled it. Mrs. Sanchez just laughed, setting two plates of pancakes, his with more on it, onto the table. Speared through the center of each stack stood a lone candle, being lit by Mrs. Sanchez once we sat down.
"Dear," she called, waiting a full minute before heaving a sigh, and averting her sad eyes from us, shuffling to the living room. Claude just looked down at his breakfast, eyes ashamed. I sat helpless, unable to speak the right words or comfort him as much as he needed it.
"Okay," Mrs. Sanchez breathed, crossing the frame back to us with her husband clinging to her arm, heavily confused. He couldn't remember where he was again. Claudio didn't meet his mother's eyes, but shot me a glance. His eyes were brimming with tears. "Happy Birthday, kids," his mother said in what was a good attempt at cheeriness, standing with her husband who gave us curious looks.
"Who are they?" he croaked to her, looking more alone than ever. She just smiled at him, and I felt my own tears begin. "Who are they?!" he shouted, flailing his arms away from her, towards the counter. I ducked my head until it met the table's edge, and let a droplet hit my sweats, making a dark circle there.
"Please calm down, dear," Mrs. Sanchez hushed him like a small child, trying to get close enough to comfort him. He looked at each face, wide eyed, before focusing on the candles. Mrs. Sanchez didn't see his focus, but Claudio and I did.
"NO!" he and I shouted at the same time as Mr. Sanchez dove, hypnotized, towards the open flames.
The table overturned, food and fire flying in random directions, and Claudio pinned down his wild father, who lay docile under him. He didn't remember what just happened at all. I lay, sprawled in the upturn, by the back door, food all over me as I watched Mrs. Sanchez fret over her men.
"Hospital," she declared, voice shooting up an octave as her tears overturned onto the linoleum. Claude nodded, focused on his father's face. He pulled him up, and helped him across the slippery floor and into the garage before I could even stand up. I reached the garage as Claudio stood back from the quickly reversing vehicle.
I closed the garage door, and pulled Claude into the kitchen, sitting him down as I cleaned up the mess. He didn't even offer to help, he was so stunned at events that had just passed.
He stood, once I finished eating, and led the way into the living room, sitting down and letting me wrap my arms around him. It was my turn to comfort him now.
"It's okay," I whispered to him as he dug his eyes into my collar bone, wetting it immediately. "Things will be okay, I promise. Please don't cry." He just shook, leaving me to comb through his wild hair with my fingers in a gentle way, letting him get it all out.
"I hate him for it," he croaked. "I absolutely hate that part of him. Why him?! I don't get it..."
I just hugged him tighter, maneuvering us so that he lay on me, more comfortable than sitting in my opinion. We laid that way for some time, me comforting him while he got it all out, until he shook no more, and looked up at me.
"Happy Birthday," I whispered, kissing his forehead while he smiled a little back, ruefully.
His smile fell before mine, which surprised me. I'm not one for a good front put up. I gave him a questioning look, brow deeply furrowed, and he just gazed back at me. He was thinking about his father.
"It would be justice in murder," he whispered, closing his eyes softly before resting his head back on my chest. We laid like that for the remainder of the day, each absorbed in thoughts and potential homicidal plans.
"There you are!" Mrs. Sanchez scolded, waggling a finger at us with a smile that was supposed to be disapproving, but lost all weight next to her eyes. Claude and I glanced at one another, grins spreading evenly, before he let go of my hair, and ruffled it. Mrs. Sanchez just laughed, setting two plates of pancakes, his with more on it, onto the table. Speared through the center of each stack stood a lone candle, being lit by Mrs. Sanchez once we sat down.
"Dear," she called, waiting a full minute before heaving a sigh, and averting her sad eyes from us, shuffling to the living room. Claude just looked down at his breakfast, eyes ashamed. I sat helpless, unable to speak the right words or comfort him as much as he needed it.
"Okay," Mrs. Sanchez breathed, crossing the frame back to us with her husband clinging to her arm, heavily confused. He couldn't remember where he was again. Claudio didn't meet his mother's eyes, but shot me a glance. His eyes were brimming with tears. "Happy Birthday, kids," his mother said in what was a good attempt at cheeriness, standing with her husband who gave us curious looks.
"Who are they?" he croaked to her, looking more alone than ever. She just smiled at him, and I felt my own tears begin. "Who are they?!" he shouted, flailing his arms away from her, towards the counter. I ducked my head until it met the table's edge, and let a droplet hit my sweats, making a dark circle there.
"Please calm down, dear," Mrs. Sanchez hushed him like a small child, trying to get close enough to comfort him. He looked at each face, wide eyed, before focusing on the candles. Mrs. Sanchez didn't see his focus, but Claudio and I did.
"NO!" he and I shouted at the same time as Mr. Sanchez dove, hypnotized, towards the open flames.
The table overturned, food and fire flying in random directions, and Claudio pinned down his wild father, who lay docile under him. He didn't remember what just happened at all. I lay, sprawled in the upturn, by the back door, food all over me as I watched Mrs. Sanchez fret over her men.
"Hospital," she declared, voice shooting up an octave as her tears overturned onto the linoleum. Claude nodded, focused on his father's face. He pulled him up, and helped him across the slippery floor and into the garage before I could even stand up. I reached the garage as Claudio stood back from the quickly reversing vehicle.
I closed the garage door, and pulled Claude into the kitchen, sitting him down as I cleaned up the mess. He didn't even offer to help, he was so stunned at events that had just passed.
He stood, once I finished eating, and led the way into the living room, sitting down and letting me wrap my arms around him. It was my turn to comfort him now.
"It's okay," I whispered to him as he dug his eyes into my collar bone, wetting it immediately. "Things will be okay, I promise. Please don't cry." He just shook, leaving me to comb through his wild hair with my fingers in a gentle way, letting him get it all out.
"I hate him for it," he croaked. "I absolutely hate that part of him. Why him?! I don't get it..."
I just hugged him tighter, maneuvering us so that he lay on me, more comfortable than sitting in my opinion. We laid that way for some time, me comforting him while he got it all out, until he shook no more, and looked up at me.
"Happy Birthday," I whispered, kissing his forehead while he smiled a little back, ruefully.
His smile fell before mine, which surprised me. I'm not one for a good front put up. I gave him a questioning look, brow deeply furrowed, and he just gazed back at me. He was thinking about his father.
"It would be justice in murder," he whispered, closing his eyes softly before resting his head back on my chest. We laid like that for the remainder of the day, each absorbed in thoughts and potential homicidal plans.