4. Kiss It Better #3
“Does it matter what I think? Jonah never cared. Time after time, I tried to get him help. I moved him into my apartment. I supported him and paid for rehab. I don’t have anything to give. Everything I have left is focused on Auggie. He deserves to have a better life than the one we were dealt.”
“Sure, life was pretty shitty for a while, but we always had each other. Why does that have to change?” Emma’s voice cracks. “Why can’t you forgive him?”
Auggie whooshes down the spiral slide with his arms in the air, laughing as he makes it to the bottom. His wild curls bounce as he bounds back up the stairs and runs across the platform with another kid about his age following behind him.
“It’s not that simple.”
“He’s your brother.”
Unable to contain my anger, I aim it squarely at my sister, even though I know damn well she doesn’t deserve it. “You’re right. He is my brother. He always will be. But right now, he feels a lot like a goddamn stranger.”
Several people turn toward the disruption, but I ignore their stares. I’ve been fodder for this town too many times to count; it doesn’t faze me anymore. Let them talk.
Emma smooths her hands down her lap and stands. “I’m gonna go say goodbye to Auggie.”
“Emma, I…”
“I heard you loud and clear.” Gaze downcast, she murmurs, “We already lost mom and dad. I can’t lose Jonah, too. You might be ready to give up on him, but I’m not.”
With those parting words, Emma disappears behind the pirate ship in search of Auggie, leaving me alone with only my conscience for company and a steady stream of unwanted but deserved guilt.
A shadow looms in my periphery before Janet takes the seat to my right. I’ve known Janet my whole life. She used to babysit us every now and then.
She pats my forearm. “How’s August? Settling in ok?”
“We’re managing.”
She nods absently, staring at the playground. A group of about five kids, including Auggie, dashes past us playing a game of tag. Their voices grow louder and louder as they make the rounds again.
A little girl taps Auggie on the back. “Tag, you’re it!”
He whirls around and chases her in the opposite direction, but he only makes it a few steps before he trips over his feet and tumbles to the rubber mat that covers the entire surface of the playground.
I stop breathing, bracing myself for tears that don’t come. Should I go to him? I don’t want to make things worse.
“You ok, buddy?”
It takes him a second to stand, panting, his face red. He gives me an unenthusiastic thumbs-up and takes off after the other kids again, slower and more cautiously.
I slump back against the bench and blow out a long breath.
“Once upon a time, that would’ve sent your mama into a tailspin,” Janet says through subdued laughter. “She would’ve hauled y’all off to the hospital to check for internal bleeding. She had her faults, but you three kids were her whole world.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything, and Janet doesn’t rush to fill the silence.
I stand and straighten my jacket. “Auggie,” I call out. “Time to go.”
He walks over to the bench with his face scrunched. “I don’t wanna go.”
“It’s time for dinner, and you’re gonna need a bath.”
He crosses his arms and stomps one foot. “No. I’m not leaving.”
“It’s cute that you think you have a choice. Come on.”
I squat low and pick him up. He squirms to be let down, but I hold firm, striding away from the park with Auggie kicking and screaming in my arms. I wouldn’t put it past one of the townies to call the cops on me for kidnapping at this point.
Halfway down the block, I realize I rode my bike here. I’ll have to come back and get it later. It’s for the best. Even if I didn’t have Auggie, I shouldn’t drive when my emotions are riding me this hard.
Just as we’re turning onto our street, Auggie lets out a stuttered breath and rests his head against my shoulder, all of the fight having fled his tiny body. Emma used to get the same way when she was tired. I never thought I’d be the adult in this situation.
When we get back to the apartment, I set Auggie on the couch, take off his cochlear implants, lay him against the pillows, and sit at his feet.
“Are you ok?” I sign to the best of my limited ability.
He nods and slowly blinks his eyes shut.
I drape a blanket over him and affectionately run my hand over his head, sinking back into the cushions. It feels all too familiar, only this time I’m not tossing a blanket over a strung-out Jonah laid out on this very same couch and staying up late to make sure he’s still breathing.
In a way, it’s worse. Auggie is a living, breathing reminder of how I failed my brother. With the distance between us, I could imagine Jonah was somewhere living his life to the fullest with a family he loved, not rotting away in a jail cell.
Now, I wake every day to the evidence that my brother is lost to me, walking around my apartment like an echo of the boy he used to be when we promised we’d always look out for one another, and never, ever become our parents. Only one of us kept that promise.