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Then
Alexandra
15 years ago
I’m thirteen.
I’m not a baby.
So why does it matter that my stepdad hates my guts or that my mom doesn’t seem to see it?
I’m old enough to take care of myself. Most of the time, that’s exactly what I do. It’s just me and Aaron when Mom and Keith are at work or out at the bars. Neither one of them pays much attention to me and Aaron as long as we’re quiet and we stay out of sight.
“Out of sight, out of mind.” That’s what my Grandma Ruth used to say.
But today is my birthday, so I’m feeling extra feisty. Aaron remembers and brings me a cupcake from his school lunch. It gets a little squished in his backpack on the way home, but I don’t care. The prepackaged little treat is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. The two of us split it in half in my room.
“Happy birthday,” my little brother tells me.
“Thanks.”
“Are you going to make a wish?”
“We don’t have any candles.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Aaron grins at me. “You can still make a wish.”
There are so many different things I want to wish for that choosing just one feels impossible. I want to wish that I didn’t live here. I want to wish that Keith was gone. I want to wish that Aaron and I could feel safe and protected and not so very alone all of the time.
Most of all, I wish my dad was still alive to protect us. It’s my thirteenth birthday today, which means I’ve celebrated five whole birthdays without Dad. They never get easier. If anything, the world seems even more damaged every year that passes.
"Just one wish?” I need ten. Twenty. I need a thousand wishes to escape from what Aaron and I are going through every day, but I know before he answers that I’m out of luck on that front.
“Just one.” Aaron nods, solemnly looking at me.
I close my eyes. I make my wish, but I don’t tell Aaron what it is. When I open my eyes again, he’s smiling brightly at me. He’s got crooked teeth and a freckled nose, but he’s sweet, and I’m lucky to have him as my brother.
“Did you make one?”
“Yes.”
“Then we can eat the cupcake now.”
Together, we eat our halves of the little cupcake. We’re careful not to get any crumbs anywhere. We can’t risk anyone finding out that we ate food without permission. School food is supposed to be eaten at school. Keith doesn’t like us to bring anything home. Then again, Keith doesn’t like us eating. Period. He thinks kids are a waste of money. He thinks we shouldn’t be able to eat “his” food in “his” house. I’m old enough to know that my dad’s money is what pays for the food and the house. When he died, Mom got his savings account. Keith has wasted most of it away.
I know the word I would use to describe Keith.
I would say monster.
Only, I can’t tell anyone because I know that if I complain, something will happen. I don’t know what, but I know it would be something bad. Aaron and I don’t have anyone but each other. When Isabelle Cranford told her teacher that her mom’s boyfriend was hurting her, the cops took her away. They sent her to a foster home and her sister went to a different one. Neither girl ever came back to school.
I can’t let that happen to me and Aaron.
I just can’t.
Carefully, I take the cupcake wrapper and ball it up so it’s really tiny. Then I take a piece of notebook paper, wrap it around the plastic, and ball it up, too. I crumple up a few other pieces of paper and put them in the trashcan next to my little desk. If anyone happens to look in the trash - and they will - it will just look like I’ve been struggling with my homework.
We hear the front door open, and slam shut. Keith. He’s home early, and he’s angry. Aaron’s eyes widen and he gestures to my lips.
