Maybe It'll Come Tomorrow

Liam walked home with me. The silence and fear was thick between us and seemed to buzz in the air. Every few steps one of us would look behind us, in fear of what could be there. Every time we passed an alley, Liam would turn his head quickly towards the darkness, making sure nobody would surprise him.

“My house is on this next street. How are you doing?”

His smile was strained as he held his hurt arm closer to him. He let out a quiet alright, and went back to looking behind us. He was spooked.

As we walked up to my house I realized what I was doing. I was letting this stranger into my house. I didn’t know him, and here I was welcoming him to take of his shoes and seeing my home life. He’s going to see how fucked up my family really is, and he might even ask about Jenna, rest her soul.

I couldn’t handle this. What am I going to tell him about Mikey? Will he judge my little brother for his silent ways? Or will he take it as it comes? What if my mom’s home? Will she be ashamed that I’m bringing somebody into our house? Holy shit. She’d bang him like no tomorrow.

“This is it.” My key entered the door, my heart racing as the lock clicked.

Liam’s eyes looked around my house curiously. Even though one was almost shut completely from being swollen I know he could see how broken it was. How even the feeling you get upon entering is dismal and hopeless. How one person of the household had no emotional connection to the other and was never there. How she was standing in the kitchen with hooker boots and shorts on in the middle of winter.

Fuck me.

Allowing Liam to enter the house completely, I pointed him to the living room where Mikey was once again watching SpongeBob like a little kid should be doing. This is the only time I feel like my family is normal.

Mikey looked up with a shocked expression. His eyes had confusion and anger flowing through them. “Hey Mikes, this is Liam he’s going to be having dinner with us tonight.” He didn’t even nod.

“Hey Brandy?” The shrill voice caused my fingers to scratch my ears subconsciously y.

Leaving the two boys to awkwardly look at each other silently, I went to the kitchen to see what she wanted. She obviously saw Liam and I enter the house, she may be daft but she’s not completely stupid. I think

Her gaze met mine with apprehension and sadness. “I’m going to work. Are you going to be okay watching Mikey?” Since when does she ask? Usually she leaves with a sloppy red lipstick stain on my cheek. What’s this false care?

“Yes.”

“And how about that boy? What’s he doing here?” Oh. That’s why. The care that I thought I heard before wasn’t that at all. It was curiosity and excitement. Fuck you mom.

“He’s my boss. You’re going to be late.” I added after taking a quick look at the clock. I’ll tell you this; I’m not sure where my mom works. She doesn’t talk about it. I’ve been a few bets with myself though. A stripper joint is high on the list, but then again so is a server at Hooters.

She nodded and without another word, she took her leave out of the small house leaving the two boys and me to figure out what to make of the evening.

“Hey Mikey, come here!” He trotted in with a glare in his eyes.

Leaning down, I whispered to him, “Hey buddy, that man in there? He’s my boss.” He nodded in understanding, “and he got mugged last night because of me.” I don’t know why I was telling him this, “and I really need you to cut him a break.”

A light in his head went off. The words ‘mugging’ and the term ‘because of me’ were like bright warning lights in his head. That man in there saved his only hope’s life. Because of the beat up man in the living room that he didn’t know if he could trust, he still has the hope of someday leaving his whore of a mother and running off with his sister to anywhere but this shitty house.

He waddled his way back into the living room to finish his episode of SpongeBob, and get ready for an episode of ICarly.
--
“How’s it going in here?” Liam looked up at the sound of my voice, while Mikey’s eyes were glued to the TV.

With a look of question Liam took a quick glance at my brother then me, as if he was waiting for me to explain. I didn’t feel that I had the need to tell him. Sure he saved my life, but where did the line have to be drawn?

I nodded Liam towards me, and brought him into the kitchen, leaving Mikey alone to watch TV. It wasn't a big difference to him.

Walking back towards the stove, I waited until Liam started firing questions. It took a few minutes, but he started to ask.

“Your brother, is he a mute? I don’t mean to be rude… I’m just curious.” He was settled in a chair around the small light wooded table a where Mikey and I usually do our homework. I nodded. But then shrugged afterwards adding some confusion to the situation.

Letting the pasta settle for a few moments after stirring it, I turned back to him. “Kind of.”

“Kind of?” He tilted his head childishly.

Again, I nodded. “Yah, he can talk and everything. He just chooses not to.” Turning the stove to a low simmer, I joined Liam at the table, sitting across from him.

Leaning his chin lightly on his good hand, he leaned forward. “Then why doesn’t he speak if he can.”

I shrugged again. “After Jenna died he hasn’t spoken.”

His eyes narrowed as he heard me speak, “Who's Jenna?”

Here it was. I lead him to the question really. It was as if I wanted him to know. As if I wanted to get this dark secret of our family off of my chest. Nobody really knew what happened to this family, except the group of people who lived in this house. Why tell anybody? What would sympathy do for us? Nothing. Sympathy doesn’t bring people back.

“She was… our older sister.” I explained after a few pregnant silent moments. “She died five years ago. She was sixteen.” And there it was. It was out there. Not knowing where the conversation was going caused my eyes to wander, silently hoping he’d make me tell him more.

He took his head off of his hand and pulled his chair in, so he sat closer to the table. “How did she die… if you don’t mind me asking?” This seemed like too much. Like I shouldn’t really be explaining this to him. Why would he care? What gave him the right to know about my past?

“She killed herself.”

Jenna stayed home today. My mother worked full time now. After Dad’s ditching she hasn’t been the same. The whole family was under constant pressure of watching Mikey full time, and making sure that nobody found out how broken our house was becoming.

I had gone to school as I normally would, and usually Jenna would go to high school, but the nanny’s mother was sick so she had to stay home with her, leaving Mikey alone. Before my mother had told us she would have to stay home from work, Jenna offered to stay home for the one day. Without any objections, my mother thanked her, and went back to her room where she still cried once in a while over our father.

The house was eerily quiet when I walked though the door. Not a sound. No television. No talking. No crying. No playing. Nothing. “Hello?” My twelve year old self called.

It felt as though I was in a horror movie. One of the ones that Jenna would watch with her friends. I was never allowed to hang out with them, but I’d hide behind the couch and watch it with them. I knew that she would hear me scream along with them when a frightening part would come, but she’d never confront me about it.

“Jenna? Are you here?” Of course she was here. Where else would she be?

That’s when I got the queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. If she was here, why wasn’t she answering me? Why wasn’t Mikey answering? He was three; he had a good idea of how to speak.

Putting my backpack down, I made a quick mental note to tell my mom about the band concert that was coming up. Hopefully Jenna didn’t have anything that day. No matter what it was would more important than anything I had. If there was a pecking order in this house, the middle child would always be put last.

My feet were loud as they went down the short hallway towards my bedroom. It felt as though the photos lining the walls stared at me with mocking smirks and daggers for eyes. My hands pulled back from the door as soon as I pushed it open a little. The creak it made caused me to shutter as I pushed it farther. Blood. Blood. Metallic and bitter. The smell flew right up my nose as I walked farther into the room. There she was.

On the bed was my gorgeous older sister. Dark hair and light skin, lighter now that the life was sucked out of it. Her lifeless eyes looked towards our ceiling. I sucked in a breath and took in the blood that ran down her arms staining the floral sheets. Her wrists were open for the world to see with deep cuts, blood drying.

So many years of seeing her being perfect and this is the last memory I’d have of her. Her silky hair strewn across her pillow as she lay on her back. Her smooth skin looking like porcelain, and fragile. She looked like a doll.

And there was Mikey. Sitting at the end of the bed. Silent. Just looking at the corpse of his older sister. Grabbing him off the bed, he made no struggle at my actions. He was silent. He’s been so ever since.

No words have come out of his mouth except after I put him down. “Jenna’s gone just like Daddy.”