Your Hero is a Mythomaniac
June sixth, 2012. You get a slip from your teacher, telling you to bring your stuff to the office. Uncle Ricky is picking you up. You haven’t seen Uncle Ricky in a while, not since Dad’s funeral. They were in training together, but Dad joined the CIA and Rick joined the military. They were best friends, you think.
Now here you are, sitting in the passenger seat with the man who told you to remember that weed is a hook-up, not a marriage. He’s in his uniform. And he ain’t talkin’, just starin’ straight ahead, the deep brown of his face a shade lighter like he just saw a ghost. You hope the ghost was Dad. That would mean you still have a chance to see him again.
You assume Ricky is taking you to the hospital. Taking you to another therapy session you forgot about, but the car halts at home. The beige siding looks gray under a malicious sky, the clouds completely consuming the sunshine. You hope it’s just the weather and not your little sister freaking out. When she’s having a rainy day, she usually makes sure everyone else does, too.
You sit down, next to Orion. X is standing, his feet are anxious and moving, and he’s biting his nails. It’s what he does when he can’t smoke. Rocky is holding down Rainna’s wrists, two identical faces showing you the same dread you saw outside. You were right about the weather.
“Mama’s dead.”
Crash. The lamp. Thunk. The coffee table at the wall. You listen to your family scream, frustrated Spanish mixed with accents from a city you have never seen. Kicks and punches to whatever is in their way, infuriated sniffling echoing through the house and stiffened wails of pain. You can barely see them.
So, it happened again. You never get a break. The wires in their heads all snapped, sparks starting a fire. Yours snapped, too, but it was just a blackout.
*
I pull at my earlobes, the inflamed skin protests, but I wanna get a better look. I look like the vegan boys you find on hipster chick blogs—only browner, with that sloping nose Mami had and the piercing brown eyes Dad gave me. A little stubble never hurt either, revealing my natural hair color that clashes with the bright magenta in the strands of my thick hair. The girls on the cheerleading team said this wannabe-punk-rock thing wasn’t really gonna work for me, but I wanna to keep the family brand alive. They wouldn’t get it, I think. X has a mess of piercings, too, and tattoos, doing everything in his power to not look like Dad. Orion is too scared of tattoos, but I told him he could get one whenever he wanted. He’s always doodling on his hands, I figured he’d want somethin’ on his arm that’ll last. It’s like a family tradition. Mami had a few on her legs and back, Dad had some on his chest and arms. The twins are pumped to get theirs, they’ve got a list going.
I have one: a little pair of gardenias with their stems tied together, five petals falling tenderly toward my heart. The stems have Mami and Dad’s names, and the petals have ours. I don’t think I want anymore, though. X told me it was sappy and to get somethin’ else, but I’d rather have the names of my family than a flaming dog skeleton. Can’t judge him, though, we’ve all been too high to say no at some point.
The gauges didn’t kill me, but Rocky was about to puke. I picked him up after group therapy with Rainna and they weren’t talking, so I figured someone said something that made the other one think of something that they had solved a long time ago and then they got all angry again and started fighting about that same thing. The cyclical struggle of the twin pistols, I gotta say. If they can’t keep the bullets to themselves, they’re gonna end up shooting each other. I made Rocky stay in the car and told Rainna to make sure Orion had eaten.
“Why can’t he text you?”
“Why don’t you text me when you get into fights?”
“I’d get in trouble,” she said it like I wasn’t makin’ sense.
“So would he if he didn’t eat,” Rocky interjected, his eyes locked on his phone. “Don’t be a dumbass.”
Rainna growled. “I wasn’t talkin’ to you.”
“You asked a question.”
“I didn’t ask you, pendejo.”
“Yeah, well, I answered, perra. Move it.”
“¡Órale!” I called. “Save it for homework time.”
“Pinche ratero,” Rainna hissed, tugging at her cropped leather.
“Te ves muy naco con eso, perra-”
“¡No mames!” She grabbed his phone, holding it above her face like she was gonna chuck it hard into the cement outside of the car window.
Rocky unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned out of the car. “Oye! Give it back!”
“Take it back.”
“¡No me chingues! Rainna, I’m gonna break ya fuckin’ nose. Give it back!”
“Make me, bitch!” Rainna faked dropping it, her face dripping with a cheeky expression.
Rocky hopped out of the car and stood above her as menacingly as he could, disregarding the height difference between them. Little sister or not, he was gonna kick her ass. Rainna didn’t budge except for the smirk on her face for riling him up. With that, I stepped out and snatched the phone from her.
“Take a cold shower, ratero numero dos.” I tossed Rocky’s phone into the passenger seat, ignoring the blast of messages from Purple-Heart-emoji Nat Pink-Heart-emoji.
Rainna didn’t budge. They were having a staring match to the death. I sighed, leaning on the steering wheel until the car let out a loud honk, one of those long ones like when the driver passes out on the steering wheel. I pressed my elbows deeper into it, glaring at Rainna from the rearview mirror. She clenched her fists until they shook, black hair falling over her eyes. She stormed inside the house in a huff, embarrassed. Not like I woke the whole neighborhood, we hear honks every day. As cute as Poughkeepsie is, it’s anything but quiet.
“Get in, Rock.” I cracked my fingers. “I wanna get a piercing.”
“You? A piercing?” he snorted, closing the door. “Where, exactly?”
“Gauges.”
He laughed. “Oh, sexy. Who you tryna impress?”
I smiled to myself, knowing damn well if I said there wasn’t anyone—which there wasn’t—he wouldn’t believe me. “You wouldn’t know ‘em.” I backed out of the driveway and headed East.
*
Rainna never texted me about her brother, so when we got home, I gave Rocky some cold water and made Orion some pasta.
“I’m gonna barf.” Rocky groaned.
“Toilets exist, use ‘em.” I peppered the noodles real quick before running toward the stairs. It’s a good start, tastes like nothing and doesn’t take too long. Before I bring the bowl upstairs, I see a grocery bag full of snacks I forgot to put away. I bring those up with me, too.
I quietly open the sharpie covered door. It’s got all kinds of doodles of characters Orion loved as a kid. He’d sit in the hall and draw for hours, characters from Adventure Time, Sailor Moon, some Ghibli art like Totoro and Arietty. I smile to myself when I see the little Cat Bug I drew on there, next to the skull X carved in the wood with Dad’s knife.
“Hey, Orion.”
“Get out.” He was tryna sleep.
“No,” I chuckle, putting the bag down and placing the food on the end table. “You gotta eat, hermano.”
He still didn’t face me, but I saw him shift like he wanted to. “‘M not hungry, get out Skittles.”
I smirked. “You’re not jackin’ it, are you?”
He whipped the covers off to prove he was still wearing those suffocating skinny jeans. “Why you gotta say that?!”
“Why you gotta sleep in denim?” I plopped down on his bed, startling him out of his drowsiness.
“Cabron.”
“I could’ve thrown the pasta at you, ya tu saves.”
“It’d be warm. . . .”
“Well, I guess,” I said and gave him an unsure laugh. He covered his eyes with that floppy mop of his. “Eat a little. Mira, I got some snacks you can keep in your desk.”
“Rats.”
“Are friends!” I grabbed the pasta off his end table. “They’re little like you and gotta eat, too!”
“Pinche gacho.” He pulled his knees up to his chest, scanning the floor for any rodent intruders. “Don’t compare me to that . . . .”
“You been drawing?” I point at the open notebook on his end table—a sketch of a lion with some math sprinkled in.
Orion mumbles. He does that a lot. I leaned over until our shoulders were touching, moved back to my place, then leaned into his shoulder again. I bopped us together like pong, feeling a growl vibrate through all 5’3 inches of him. I kept going, a Cheshire grin painting my face, bopping our shoulders together and lookin’ up at the ceiling like I was completely oblivious. I heard him sigh, annoyed before he snatched the bowl from my hands.
“Ay, good job!” I said.
“Shut up. . . .” He stared into the bowl like it was the deep end of a pool, and he had no floaties. He mixed the pasta around a bit, an audible rumble from his tummy.
I cocked my head, eyes all big and innocent. “Want me to do it?”
“Do what?”
I snickered to myself, taking the fork from his hand and waving it around his mouth. “Say ‘ahhh!’”
“No!” He bristled, covering his face with his hands. “Don’t—no!” His olive skin turned a cute shade of pink. “‘M not a goddamn baby, Shane. . . .”
I shot out a laugh and tossed the fork in the bowl. “Well, either that, or ya do it yourself.”
“¡Chale!” he hissed.
“No manches! See? ‘M not X. I can do that, too.” I threw my hands behind my head and laid back on the bed.
He was quiet for a good while after that, still cautious of the bland little meal like it was poison. He was doing well after the hospital, but something made him stop. I felt like it was somethin’ that vieja, Karmin, said. But he told me it wasn’t. He also started lying again. While he delicately examined his meal like a tiny bird, I stared at the ends of his giant Queen poster. He has me to thank for it. Usually, the ends of the poster would be ripped to hell, like his other ones. The Burning Forks poster has definitely seen better days, but the Queen poster was still shining in all its glory, surrounded by the bands we listen to now.
“Why you never speak it with the twins?”
He was playing with the noodles again.
“Didn’t you hear ‘em outside? They practice enough, yellin’ at each other.”
He exhaled out his nose. “You should yell at them, too.”
I snorted. “I’m too busy yellin’ at you.”
“You never yell at me.”
A sudden, heavy weight on my chest resurfaced. I spent a hell of a lot of time trying to keep those twins from getting suspended, but as much as I did, I still hovered over Orion like a hawk. I dunno if it was because I could still smell the sterile hospital on him or just big brother instincts. As much as I was foolin’ around, as much as I tried to joke about it, Orion wasn’t happy. I could see in his face he hated the hover-er, he hated it when our parents did it, he hated it when I do it. But that’s not enough to stop me, not even a broken arm stopped me.
I stared at him. Am I his parent now? I bite my lip and dig my nails into my scalp, the weight in my chest only getting heavier. I didn’t want to be his parent—their parent. I already had to drop out to—
Stop.
Think.
Breathe.
He was right. I never yell. I just mess around until he and the other kids do what I need them to do. It’s a lot easier to get to them when you’re nice. They’re so used to being sent to detention or yelled at. They’re numb to it. But if you just smile and joke around, your threats of grounding or taking away possessions isn’t hurtful, it’s playful. It’s something a brother would say rather than a mother. Bad dogs react faster to a kiss on the nose rather than a whack.
We’ve had too many gray skies, months filled with a melancholy that we can’t seem to laugh away, no matter how hard we try to paint it, it always goes back to being gray. I guess older siblings have it rough, we’re the first to grow up and the last to be happy about it. There’s misery in this house, and she craves company.
I feel like I’m the only one who didn’t take her hand. She’' tantalizing, misery—she creeps up when I’m driving or lying in bed. Any instance of silence, she’s there—because I don’t hear Mami laughing anymore. I don’t hear Daddy bein’ loud with the twin pistols. I don’t even hear the beat of the door opening and closing with the song of the day. I fill the silence with music, beating the pain out on the skins as much as I can. I fill it with a calendar soaked in sharpie. I fill it with a tear or two in the shower.
Orion smiled at the bowl of pasta and took a slow bite. I didn’t say anything, just grinned at him. I nodded to myself, got up and gripped his shoulder, my mouth half open. I didn’t know what I wanted to say, but he knew what I meant. He put his hand on mine and smiled at me with those eyes that Mami had.
I relaxed into a smile. “You wanna tell me what’s been goin’ on, Orion?”
“Just. . .” He shrugged. “A lot. . . .” He took another bite.
“Yeah, well. Life is a lot. Especially ours.”
“You got new sticks. . . .”
I let out an easy laugh. “Yeah, figured I’d do somethin’ nice for myself. Gotta do that every once in a while.”
He gave me a sad smile, his head tilted to the side like a puppy as he stared at me through those eyes. I felt my heart swell with joy as I stared at him, just like it did when I first saw him. It was late October, and I was all hyped for Halloween, but the sweetest gift was seeing my baby brother for the first time. He was really tiny. I wanted to hold him so bad, but Mami said he was sensitive. Not much has changed since then.
I heard the door downstairs slam open. “Ah, you fuck—”
“Shit!” I rushed out, pausing at the door frame. I turned to Orion and gave a thumbs up, coupled with an uncertain smile. He stared at me wide-eyed, pulling his knees up to his chest. His joy turned to fear just from hearing X’s voice. I sighed, knowing damn well I had to keep the beast asleep until the night ended.
Suburban white mom walking down the hall, I stopped X at the first step, his leather hanging off his arm, displaying his unfinished sleeve of drunken doodles and various stick n’ poke experiments gone wrong. The left side of his head was shaved in the shape of a star, one of the points goin’ too far toward the back of his head. I pressed my lips out to make ample escape for a sigh.
“Wha’ you. . .” He swayed a bit to the left. Great. Not like I couldn’t smell it.
“Where have you been?” Wow, I really sounded like a dad with that one.
“Shut the fuck up, Skittle, you don’ know nothin’ . . . .”
“Jesus, get to bed, man.” There we go, brother’s back.
“No.” He stood up straight. “‘M not goin’ t’ bed, yer not Ma.”
I rolled my eyes and reached for him, but he sloppily slapped me away. I couldn’t tell what he was on. I could smell the booze, it set my nose hairs on fire, but he wouldn’t let me get close enough to see his eyes. His mood was determined by the eyes; glazed, red or sleepy. All of them meant hell for Orion. I kept myself in front of him as he was leering on the stairs.
He got close to me, annoyed. “Wha’ ya doin’?”
I shoved him back as respectfully as possible, but he went a little too far. His palm smacked the wall, shaking the mirror and Rocky’s little league photos. I crossed my arms, bored and annoyed with this routine we’d practiced every weekend. His boots hit the floor three times before he reached me again.
“Go to bed. Your bed is that way.” I nodded at the couch.
He got real close to my face, clearly satisfied those docs gave him some height so our eyes could meet. I couldn’t muster up a smile back, it’d usually throw him off.
We had such a good day. Even if the twins were fighting, even if Orion was still having trouble eating, today was good for us. We were making it work but whenever I picked up the pieces he left behind, X’d always come and smack them out of my hand.
“You were feeding the dumbass again, wasn’t you?”
I raised an eyebrow. “I feed you, why’d he be different?”
“No, no, cuz he’s doin’ that thing. . . .” He suddenly screamed passed my shoulder, up the stairs: “You doin’ that pity party bullshit again?! We got other problems!”
An audible squeak escaped my throat when I heard the distant: “Fuck you!” from Orion’s room. I held my arms out, gripping the railing of the stairs with one hand and holding the wall with the other. This wasn’t rocket science, I gave X a glare as my stupid brain clicked the two issues together.
“What’d you fuckin’ say?! Who the fuck you think—” he screamed past me.
“Xavier, fuckin’—” I shoved him hard this time. “Stop it!”
He glared at me like a wild animal. A ‘fuck you’ wasn’t enough to start a fight with sober X, but it was a green light for drunk X. He attempted to stealth passed me, nearly cracking his head on the floor. I caught him in time, and he flailed out of my grip, scoffing in disgust.
“You gotta stop this, X.” I forced the words between my teeth. “For real.”
“Gotta stop what? Stop what, huh?” He squared up to me like we were in prison.
I cleared my throat and folded my hands in front of me, broadening my shoulders before I gave him a flash of my pearly whites. Our eyes locked like a sniper and their target between the crosshairs. As much as he wanted to, he wasn’t going to hit me. I knew he wasn’t because as soon as he tried, he’d be stuttering Spanish to the cross above the door with a broken wrist. I don’t ever fight my family, but he was singing a song I wrote and he doesn’t even know the lyrics.
My nostrils flared at the scent of the cheap booze. It lingered in my nose a little too long. He stole it off some frat boys clearly. Definitely cheap. I could tell from the way he was stumblin’, they spiked it with confidence so he felt like he was the shit, like he was part of them, their edgy friend that left school on purpose. But he never got in.
He broke our eye contact when he got bored. “‘M not doin’ anythin’! He—he’s gotta learn to take the worst before it gets to ‘im!”
“Yeah, but why do you gotta be the worst? Mira, it’s already gotten to him cuz you act like this whenever you want,” I shook my head, disgusted. “He wasn’t like this when you weren’t like this.”
“I’m havin’ the time. . . of my life.” He crashed into the wall, car keys jingling and falling into my succulents and cacti.
“Aye, mira! You’re all fucked up now and it’s getting old.” I sighed. “Before Karmin you were all about your littles brothers and sister. You cheered Rocky on during his games. You played Legos with Orion and Rainna. You ‘member when you used to stand in front of him and hold his hand like the big brother you said you were?” I shook my head. “Like you told Papa you were?”
He sneered at me, pushing himself off the wall and pointing a bandaged finger between my eyes. “Fuck. You. Skittles.”
I nodded. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I placed my hands behind my back, leaned forward and gave him my right cheek. If he was gonna punch me, he was gonna do it now, after that amazing comeback.
“You!” He stumbled back toward the door and then stomped back at me again. “Y-you’re not the saint bishop angel, fuckhead! We got more inportant shit to worry about! More inportant than babying our faggy li’l—”
Before a thought could cross my mind, I swung. It felt like the shortest blackout in history, my fist finding the fuse to turn my lights on and knock his out. My throat tightened when I heard his skin hit the wood floor, I don’t even remember where I hit him. I stared at him crumpled on the ground like some pathetic stray cat, chestnut locks covering his face. I backed up, heel hitting the stairs.
I didn’t wanna do that.
I was waiting for him to do that.
That’s the one thing I had power over, but I lost it just like that. My own strength betrayed me, a filter crumbling and revealing a temper that could rival his. I guess that’s why he never hit me.
He didn’t look up, but he was breathing pretty heavy. I was waiting for the bomb to drop, at any second he would lunge at me and we’d wrestle on the floor. He’d try to knock the wind outta me, and I’d push his head into the ground as he yelled insult after insult. Then he’d start punching my legs, and I’d get him in a headlock then that’d be the end. He’d flail for a minute, but that’d be it. And he’d know it.
We didn’t do any of that, though. Instead, he got up and stumbled out the door. I went after him at first, but shoes weighed my feet down, so I just stared. I shook my head. No, no, I can’t let him do that, he’ll get killed. But at the same time, who knows what he’d do to Orion if I kept him here. I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my hands and waited. For what, I don’t really know. I just waited.
I was ripped between a family I was tryna save and a family that didn’t want to be. I didn’t know who was on what side, what they were going to do next or who would end up in the hospital. I was always waiting, waiting to see what would happen in the next chapter of the Venniquin family fuck-ups. I did everything I could not to take that name, not be like that, be like Dad and be a good Venniquin man. But it was always hard. I became their everything, the one person they could go to. Good, ol’ reliable Skittles. The cheerleader. The jokester. The hero. I bandaged their wounds even after opening them as I bled uncontrollably.
“Skittles?” Orion’s voice crumbled quietly behind me. I didn’t know what to say to him or if I should even turn around. Did he see that? Did he see me?
“Oye.” I pursed my lips then popped my tongue like Mami.“You hungry?”
He said nothing.
“No hay bronca. Lemme make you some potatoes or somethin’.” I turned to face him with a smile. “No hay bronca.”
*
I didn’t really sleep that night. I kept thinking about X. I called and texted like some manic mom, but he never responded. I figured he was with Karmin, but part of me wished he wasn’t. He was so much better than that.
It was my fault. For sure, it was my fault. I shouldn’t’ve hit him.
But I couldn’t let him hit Orion again.
I had to break the cycle. I couldn’t let him trigger my little brother anymore, it was only a couple months after he’d come back and he was still scared and fucked up. He was fragile like the baby we met when I was two and X was three. No matter what happens, he’s our baby brother. We have to watch out for him.
But that got me thinkin’ who the hell is watching out for X? Me? Barely, I just let him go out and berate him about it later. Three out of the five Venniquin kids go to therapy and that’s because I wanted time to play chef before they got home. X stopped going so he could—I dunno, fuck around?
I sighed, covering my face with my pillow, biting the case. I didn’t like Karmin. I didn’t like her family. I didn’t like what she did to my big brother. She met him at a house party, one of those shitty ones with the white kids whose parents got too much money so they spend it on a pool, an open bar, and vacations that don’t involved their kids. The only reason we got invited was because I was a decent conversationalist and X had an edgy look. We were both hot, according to all the ensemble girls and cheerleaders. I had about four chasing me around that night when I was just lookin’ to dance.
I dunno what made Karmin lock onto X. He was a wallflower, drinking his watered down beer the last time I saw him that night. He was never really the party type. Well, never really the people type. That was me. We were the Venniquin brothers, the classic kinda one is sweet and the other is sour. We stuck together pretty well. Despite the clear cut line between us, we were still brothers. Passing period was the time for us to joke around and ram into each other like over excited pitbulls, showing our affection in hits and ruffles to the perfectly positioned hair. God forbid we had a class together, the principal knew Mami and Dad by a first name basis.
As I was playing hooky with Samantha Serenity Smith, my eye caught my big brother dancing with the alleged twenty something who brought all the extra booze, her dancing all up on him like in those movies we weren’t supposed to watch but always did. If my eyebrows got any higher they’d recede into my hairline and I’d be known as the naked faced wonder. At the time, it was kinda impressive how X picked her up, but at the same time I thought she was nasty. All the guys were cheering him on and patting him on the back for scoring it with the girl who was way too old to be here.
Glass shattered behind me for about the seventh time that night and for some reason it made me turn around. Heather Ann was draped over the booze table, her skirt high enough that you could see her asscheeks. If you wanna call what she had behind her an ass. Alcohol was dripping all over the floor and some football players were tryna save it by using every red solo cup they could find within their reach as makeshift buckets.
“Oye, Jesus man.” I walked over to help Heather up and pull down her skirt. She hung onto me, so grateful that Skittles came to her sweet, sweet rescue. I have no idea what she said to me, all I remember is her saying: “Thaaanks, skitters,” which was close enough. Me and some other less-than-sober-less-than-drunk girl helped her over to the couch. I turned back to find my brother, but he wasn’t there. My heart dropped to the floor.
*
Knock. Knock. Two knocks. That was Orion. I sat up from my bed and opened up the door, the kid standing there in his oversized shirt, rubbing his arm.
“Que pedo wey?” I asked, running a hand through my hair.
“I’m worried about you.” It was like looking at a baby deer.
“Worried about me?” I chuckled. “You don’t gotta do that, hermano, you got enough to think about.”
“No, like,” he sighed. “I dunno. . . .”
I ruffled his hair. “Get back to bed.”
“No, no wait!” He pinched the sleeve of my shirt. “I, uh, I’m hungry, I guess. And X broke the microwave.”
I pouted. “Again?”
“Yeah. It’s all black in there.”
“That was probably Rocky. Remember he and Rainna wanted to do that egg versus biscuit experiment?”
“I thought they were gonna do that in the teacher’s lounge.”
“Do it in the where?”
“Nothin’.” He followed me to the kitchen where I boiled some water for ramen.
“Did X come back?” he asked.
“No. I don’t think so.” I opened the package, the shriek of the plastic making Orion cringe.
“He’s really pissing me off,” he said.
“I heard. You weren’t afraid to say something back.” I dropped the hunk o’ noodle in the water. “I was surprised.”
“And scared.”
I pursed my lips, poking the hard noodles. Yeah. I was. The last time Orion said something he was slammed against the wall and kicked in the ribs. For a millisecond, I felt my chest swell with pride, but it was overtaken by fear. I didn’t wanna hang in silence either, listening to the water boil and Orion shuffle his bare feet on the cold floor.
“What were the twins fighting about?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Uh, somethin’-somethin’ therapy, somethin’-somethin’ Rain took Rocky’s phone and threatened to chuck it into the street.”
He chuckled. “Did he hit ‘er?”
“He wanted to, but he listens to his therapist.”
Orion tilted his head, running a hand through his hair like I did. “You said you were gonna put us in family therapy, right?”
“Ah,” I sighed as the noodles broke apart. “I’m tryin’, Orion. I’m definitely tryin’. But I need all of you here to do it.”
“You said you’d make him.”
“I know what I said,” I gritted my teeth, biting down my tone. “I know what I said, hermano. He’s just been gettin’ worse as you guys are gettin’ better.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m getting better?”
“Yeah, yeah!” I tore open the broth with my teeth. “Jus’ cuz ya got bad days don’t mean you’re failin’.” I spit the wrapper onto the counter. “You’re really trying. I’m proud of you.”
He straightened up, smiling at me with his teeth this time. It felt like they glowed in the dark, that’s how bright they were, his dimples shining in their light like I had never seen them before. Truthfully, he looked seven again. I mean, like, no offense, but he did. I could scoop him up and kiss his cheek, but he’d probably hit me. He’d definitely hit me.
“Get a bowl.” I flipped the stove off, draining some of the broth out. I heard something get knocked over and turned around to see Orion climbing the counter like a cat to grab a bowl from the highest shelf. I forgot I put ‘em there.
“Oye, sorry, man!” I sounded like Mami.
“I got it.” He hopped down with a red plastic bowl in his hand. “We need to do spring cleaning, anyway.” He smiled again. Two times in the same hour? That’s ridiculous!
I poured his soup into the bowl and put the pot in the sink. He stirred it around, looking up at me like that seven year old used to. “Gracias, hermano.” I gave him a simple thumbs up and smile before he walked toward the stairs, blowing on his midnight meal. I sighed when he turned away, letting my face relax and posture droop in exhaustion. I cracked my fingers a few times before heading back to my room when I heard him call me.
I stopped by the stairs. “What’s wrong?”
He gave me a big grin and said: “Te quiero mucho, hermano. Mucho, mucho.”
Zoe Leigh Elerby, from Schaumburg, IL, is a five-time published writer majoring in Creative Writing and minoring in Professional Writing at Columbia College Chicago.