by EA Young
***
Late that night a funny dream rattled me. Something was squirming down the back of my shoulder and a flashback of Sister Agatha’s talk on a vocation for those interested in becoming a priest or a nun suddenly popped into my head.
I shut my eyes tight. Oh, Gosh! Was this my calling from God?
I rolled over and bumped into a head. I opened my eyes and found Austin leaning his chin against the edge of my pillow. “What’s the matter?” I asked him.
“You all lef’ me,” he said.
“We what?”
“You, you all lef’ me ‘ere,” he said.
I sat up and looked around. “Where’d we go?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “You wouldn’t talk an’ you lef’ me ‘ere.”
I blinked twice trying to figure him out. “Austin, we’re just sleeping,” I explained. “We didn’t go anywhere.”
He raised his tiny chin, snuggled between his droopy cheeks.
“We didn’t leave you. We’re still right here in our beds.” I patted the mattress. “Just because we’re asleep and don’t talk to you, that doesn’t mean we actually left you. We’re just not paying you any attention because we’re asleep. You get it?”
He curved his eyebrows and looked at me like I was crazy.
I climbed out of bed, cupped his hand in mine, and guided him to our parents’ room. I heard snoring so I pushed the door in and found them lying back to back. I tiptoed over to the bed.
Pop was sleeping hard. His eyes were screwed tight and his mouth barely opened. I crept around to the other side. Poor Mom. From the foot of the bed, her belly looked so big I could hardly see her face.
“You see what I mean?” I asked Austin. “They’re both right here in bed.”
He cocked his head and reached for the sheets.
“No, don’t wake them!” I whispered. I walked him back out to the hall, closed the door, and steered him toward Terence and Tyrone’s room. I opened the door. Terence was balled up on one bed, and Tyrone was out flat on the other. I trampled over piles of clothes and toys. “Tyrone,” I called just loud enough for him to hear.
He jerked and fell out of the bed, covers and everything.
“Hey, Tyrone,” I said, squatting beside the bed. “Austin thinks everybody leaves him when they go to sleep.” I stared at the lump. “Tyrone? Tyrone, you in there?”
He sprang up and pulled the covers off. I paid no attention to that dazed look in his eyes.
“Why are you bringing this to me now?” he asked, scratching his head.
“Because it was brought to me now,” I explained. “He can’t sleep.”
Tyrone squinted at Austin. “Come here.”
Austin dropped onto Tyrone’s lap.
“Why can’t you sleep?” Tyrone asked, yawning.
“Don’t want to,” he said, rocking on his knees.
“What’d you do after Pop put you to bed?”
“Sat dere.”
“You didn’t want to lie down?” Tyrone asked.
Austin shook his head no.
“Why?”
“Ev’, ev’body’s gone,” he answered with tears forming.
Tyrone wrapped his arm around Austin and carried him to the other bed. “See this?” he asked, pointing at Terence. “If I need him, all I have to do is wake him up and he’ll be right here.”
Austin twitched his nose. “You sssure?”
With that, Tyrone gave Terence a quick thrust.
Terence was up. “Whatsamatter?” he mumbled.
“You see?” Tyrone asked Austin. “See how fast that was? Bam! And here he is right where I need him.”
Terence stared at us almost as if he didn’t know who we were. Maybe at this time of night, he didn’t.
“Come on,” Tyrone told Austin. “I’ll put you back in bed and you test us the next couple of nights. Any time you get scared, come and get somebody, all right?” He carried Austin out of the room.
I left Terence lost in confusion and followed in Tyrone’s footsteps.
Austin was already under his sheets when I got to his room. The pout was gone from his lips. He probably didn’t understand what sleeping really meant. I guessed I would have felt the same way if I didn’t understand.
I sat at the foot of the bed next to Tyrone until Austin fell asleep. Then, my dry throat led me down to the kitchen. Tyrone went back to his room.
I pulled the fridge door open and grabbed a carton of juice. A plastic bag filled with some type of green leafy vegetable was on the tray underneath. I poked at the bag to see what kind of vegetable was in it.
I thought that was weird. Mom never left vegetables in a plastic bag like that. Neither did Pop.
I carried the juice into the living room and sat in Pop’s easy chair. The dark walnut paneling that made up the wall beside me, turned that part of the living room into my own private tree house. Thin slits of mirrors, glimmering like strips of silver in the light coming from the streetlamps, hung on the other wall behind the plants. The polished floor was covered in some areas with carpets and throw rugs. Even the staircase was carpeted.
I curled up in the easy chair. Knowing that these things were always at home for me helped me deal with the burden of going to school.
At that moment, I liked being home. I was safe, secure, surrounded by my family, and didn’t have to worry about surprise exams, or spelling bees, or writing things on the blackboard. I had a stack of emergency homework packed away inside my book bag in case I needed it. And there were only a few more school days left.
I gazed at the front door, picturing the whole family coming back from the beach with our sandy shoes that we had to brush off on the front steps. I looked into the kitchen and could see the table, cluttered with whatever leftover food and drinks we carried back from a picnic, waiting in coolers to be put away.
I didn’t remember arriving home from the amusement parks and carnivals. I could only recall waking up in bed the next morning.
I leaned my head back against the chair.
Everybody upstairs was probably asleep by now. The dogs in the backyard were quiet. I didn’t feel the darkness close in on me here like I did at school. But what did Austin see in his room to make him think that everybody had left him?
I studied the row of steps leading up to the bedrooms.
What was it like to be left behind? And to feel that way at home. Would everybody leave me behind one day?
I shook that scary thought from my head and got up to place the empty carton on top of the kitchen cabinet. I’d rinse it out in the morning. Back upstairs, I leaped into bed, but couldn’t go to sleep. I threw the sheets off and snuck into my parents’ room again. I saw Terell in there lying between Mom and Pop.
My parents had a king-size bed, but I could still get crushed if I got in their way. So, I rolled myself on top of the thick spread, which always fell off the foot of the bed, as I had done for years.