Brendan holds me tighter, his loss of words echoing my own thoughts over their abandonment. Somehow, I wonder if her absence affected him more than he lets on.
“Did your father ever remarry?”
“No,” Brendan answers. “If he ever dated again, we never knew about it. Work and us, that was his life.”
“Where’s he at now?” The way he saidwasputs a bitter taste in my mouth, but I ask the question regardless.
“Um,” Breckin clears his throat, “he died about a year ago. Lung Cancer.”
“I’m so sorry,” I hug them tighter, feeling like that’s all I’ve been saying this morning. Yet, sorry doesn’t seem nearly enough. I never knew my father, so I can’t completely understand the loss, but I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have my mom, too.
We stay that way until the chairs become uncomfortable. As I scoot around, Breckin picks me up.
“Come on, Shades,” he carries me to the couch with the same ease his brother did last night, like I’m a pillow, “let’s get you comfy.”
“What about breakfast?” I stare over his shoulder at our forgotten food.
“We’ll order something else.”
Chapter 16
Breckin
“Mommy’s not comingback, is she?” Brendan asks. He has tears in his eyes.
Daddy took us to the pound today. All the dogs and cats had sad eyes. They were sad, like their world was over because no one loved them. Now, the little, black lab in Brendan’s lap yawns. He’s happy. Then he goes back to licking Brendan’s hand. His eyes aren’t sad. Brendan’s are.
It’s been three years since Mommy left. Every day we look out that window and wait. Every morning, we wake up and wish she’d come home. Every day we cry because she’s still gone.
Daddy cries, too. Or yells. But he’s here. Mommy’s not here. Not anymore. She used to cry a lot, too. Locked in her bedroom or the bathroom, she’d cry all day until finally she left us.
I’m the big brother. We’re the same age, but I’m the big brother. It’s my job to take care of Brendan. That’s what Daddy said.
I sit down beside him. “No, Danny, she’s not coming back.”
“‘Cause she don’t love us no more?”
I shrug and pet our new puppy. I wish I could tell him she did. But she left us. I think she used to love us. Before she left. I close my eyes and try to picture her. All I can remember is her dark, brown hair. And her smile. When she’d smile, it was like the sun shining. It made me all warm and happy. Her smile fixed everything. That’s love, I think. But if she loved us, why did she leave?
“I don’t know.”
“Think we can find a new mommy?”
“Maybe.”