Page 6 of Micah

They never let Patrick or me go hungry.

They just quietly went without sometimes.

I noticed.

Kids notice more than adults think.

Especially when your mother keeps insisting she already ate.

Or your father claims he isn't hungry while watching you take the last meatball.

By the time I was sixteen, I had my first job.

By eighteen, I had two.

Community college during the day.

Waiting tables at night.

Homework sometime around midnight if I was lucky.

Sleep became optional.

Working wasn't something I did.

It was who I was.

Because that's what my family did.

You worked.

You showed up.

You helped.

No questions asked.

Patrick always looked out for me.

Or at least...

I thought he did.

He’s older. Bigger.

The kind of brother who'd throw a punch before he'd let anyone mess with his little sister.

When Mom got sick...

Then Dad...

Everything changed.

Hospital bills stacked up faster than we could pay them.

I was away finishing school, and every time I called home, Patrick told me not to worry.

“I got it, Sloane.”