I’d like to say my childhood was perfect, but I’m not about to tell a lie. Some of it was good, some of it was bad, and this is sort of a situation that began badly did, ultimately, turn out all right. Back then, I was eight, and my brother was six, and all I could think about was where the hell he was. I tried to keep a brave face on and not cry in front of Lindsay, the lady in charge, but it was becoming harder and harder not to as the cool wind hit my face. I smelled the ice and snow in the air, and crossed my fingers that if he’d snuck off, he at least remembered the way home. The image that came to mind was my brother frozen in a doorway somewhere still haunts me to this day, and I knew I would not, could not, let that happen to him.
Perhaps I should provide with some background.
I remember the day it was a Wednesday during mid-winter break of my third grade, and my younger brother’s kindergarten year of school. Our parents were busy working, and we had to have supervision, so the school daycare was deemed to be the best alternative. While we had different circles of friends within the daycare, I would frequently distance myself from them for short periods of time in order to check up on my brother, my only link to the outside world. I was made one of the student leaders, because I was one of the oldest children there. I would flit around from group to group, my sneakers barely making any noise on the school blacktop, and go towards the smaller children. A gaggle of girls I remember had rain coats in every color; I did my best to stay away from their high-pitched, whiny exteriors which really set me off. They were the kind of girls that always demanded seconds on snack, or too many bathroom breaks. With snack, everyone had to be served (and had to finish their first helping) before seconds were given. With bathroom breaks, there was a buddy system you were not allowed to go to the bathroom by yourself.
I went up to my brother where he was playing with a group of younger boys and girls and hesitated, not wanting to interrupt his play, but still wanting to check up on him. He sensed me waiting and turned to look at me, his deep golden curls swirling around in the wind. I made a motion for him to come towards me, and he politely excused himself from his group of friends and did so, a small bounce in his step. I remember wanting to take his hand, and might have reached out to do so, only to snap it back because I didn’t want to embarrass him in front of the other children.
“Hi,” he said, his soft soprano voice untouched from puberty. He looked around, his deep cappuccino-colored eyes making sure that nobody could hear us. “Wanna sneak off and go to Mom’s?” he asked.
My head snapped back in shock. I couldn’t believe what he was asking; it was usually me who suggested stuff like this. Biting my lip, I considered it, briefly. I knew what would happen; I knew that they had our address written down somewhere inside and that the police would probably get involved and would go straight to the house. At the time, I didn’t know about Amber Alerts, and, looking back, they probably would have issued one.
“Sis,” my brother said, a whine at the back of his voice as he tried to get my eyes back on him again. He proceeded to jump up and down ever so slightly, which caught my attention again. “I mean, seriously… Don’t you want to?”
I sighed. Of course I did. I was sick of being shoved into this daycare every morning at seven in the morning. School breaks were all about sleeping in and eating junk food, mainly chocolate chip Pop Tarts, and binge watching mindless television back when Cartoon Network and Nickelodeon had decent programming. Now, we had to get up at the same time as we did while school was in session, eat organic healthy bullshit, and were permitted only one movie- G-rated, of course if we were lucky.
“Of course I wanna sneak off,” I replied, putting my hand on his shoulder to make it look like I was counselling him, which, in a way, I was. “But we’re not supposed to. Don’t you know what would happen?”
I watched as he considered this, my question hanging in the air. He rolled his shoulders and briefly stood on the balls of his feet for a moment as he thought about it, his brow furrowing as he really tried to fathom what would happen. “Would they be mad at us?” “Yes!” I cried, a little too loudly. “Of course they would. They’d tell Mom and Dad and Lanny,” I said, naming our stepfather who fronted the bills for the daycare, “and we’d get in a lot of trouble.” “I don’t like it here,” My brother replied, hanging his head in a little pout, making me feel sorry for him. “I know, buddy,” I said softly.
“I’d rather be home, too. But we can’t. Besides, it’s almost time for lunch. After lunch, we’ll play inside before Dad comes to get us.” “We have to go to Dad’s?” My brother whined; he had always preferred spending time at our mother’s house than our fathers. I shook my head, my heart going out to my brother; the pair of us had never quite fitted in with my father’s new wife and her two children, slightly older than us. “No, it’s Mom’s night, remember? Dad is just picking us up, don’t worry. He said he’d be here around five when he dropped us off this morning.”
“He’ll be late,” My brother said in a sing-song voice as I went to check on the other children, playing innocently around the playground. “He’s always late…
Around five minutes later, the teachers a red-haired woman whose name was Lindsay, and an African-American man called Darryl called all the children to use to the bathroom and then report back to the daycare room, located at the other end of school. We did so, and then, upon our return, were told to get our lunches together and to sit down. We were given twenty minutes to eat, and then it would be time to play indoors.
I walked over to the deep blue cubby that I’d picked earlier that morning, barely having to stand on my toes to get the small basket that my lunch was packed in. I felt like a proper lady as I walked to my table of choice, setting out all my lunch things carefully an apple juice box, a roast beef sandwich, a bag of kettle corn, and a rice krispy treat for dessert in front of me. As I sat there, I looked up and, for the first time, dread filled every inch of my being. My brother was not at any of the tables.
Hurriedly, I got to my feet, and dashed over to find the teachers, who were in the kitchen area taking roll call; a third one, April, had joined them. They, at first, didn’t notice the frantic look in my eyes as they questioned me on the whereabouts of my brother. Finally, one of them did notice my panicky exterior, and I told them what My brother had mentioned to me out at recess, and I watched as Darryl sprang into action. He mumbled something to Lindsay and April before going into the office just to the left of the kitchen. I saw him rummaging in the file cabinet for a moment before quickly writing something down and dashing out the front door of the daycare. I turned back to Lindsay, who had gotten onto her walkie and was verifying what Darryl was communicating to her. I think I heard the word “Runner” in their conversation.
Briefly putting on hand on April’s arm, Lindsay asked April to hold down the fort while she and I went to my mother’s house. April assured her that we would, and Lindsay took me by the hand and instructed me to put on my coat and pack up my lunch; I would have to eat it later, but, at that point, I didn’t care. Springing into action just like Darryl had, I ran towards the table and put away my lunch, and replaced it in the cubby, and grabbed my coat in a flourish as I flew out the door, right behind Lindsay.
I remember taking a backward way to my mother’s house, and wondered why Lindsay seemed to be wasting time. The cool wind whipped back sharply in my face, catching me off guard as the familiar scent of ice and snow wafted in my nose. Finally, after taking Lindsay’s backward way, the well-known sight of my mother’s house came into view, and I thought it looked funny that Darryl was standing in one of my mother’s flower beds. He was on his walkie to this day, I don’t know with who and was complaining about our family dog, Lily, who was barking at his presence.
The three of us clambered up onto the porch, ringing the door bell and pounding on the door like there was no tomorrow, until my fists were red with more than frostbite. There was no response, however, and soon we returned to the school and to the daycare, taking the more direct route this time, to my relief. Upon walking in, I let out a shout, for there, at one of the tables, sat My brother, eating his own sandwich. I ran up to him, my heart pounding, as I threw my arms around his confused form. Pulling back, I told him everything that we thought he’d gone to our mother’s house, all of it. He was then ordered into April’s office, where he was told off for not informing any teachers that he was going to the bathroom.
Those ten minutes of fear told me something that day I really did love my younger brother, no matter how much trouble I gave him at home. Initially, I’d wondered what my mother would have done to me if something had really happened to him. I’ve read or heard of countless stories of siblings caught in the crossfire, and having the mother blame the other- the 1980 film Ordinary People comes to mind. If my paranoia hadn’t subsided, I would never have been there to help Lindsay and Darryl find My brother. I remember them asking me if there was another way into the house there was: a back door, and another door down below, which led into the basement laundry room. They’d actually considered me going through the doggy door embedded in that second door, and I would have done it in a heartbeat, because there’s no question about it: He’s my brother, and I love him. When you love somebody, you’re going to do anything, be anything, that they want or need you to be. I need him as much as he needs me and – though he now would deny it, and despite the fact that he’s nineteen-years-old now- I knew that his need is still there, and I’m there to accept the challenge whenever he needs me to, because I am his older sister, who will always be there for him.
