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19

Ronan

AGE 9

I won’t survive this. He did it too hard, and I can swear the sky is getting closer and closer.

“Eamon!” My shriek echoes across the backyard as I begin to plummet back down toward the trampoline. His laugh rings out, loud and manly, so much like our dad’s, and he’s only seventeen.

When I slam into the bouncy material, I go right back up, spinning before I’m coming back down again. He double jumped me too hard, and he knows better. If I get hurt, Mom will be so mad.

After finally coming to a stop, I scramble to my knees and shoot my head up. My fake-scowl only has him laughing harder. “Be careful, you’re so much bigger than I am, Bro.”

“I need to toughen you up, little man.” Pretending like he's about to jump, I flatten myself to the floor. He lets out a villain laugh, and I giggle, rolling toward the edge. The mesh keeps me from falling off and the soft blue cushion feels like a gym mat, giving me just the comfort I need.

As I’m getting my bearings, I’m about to tell him to try again but less hard, when he suddenly looks down at his jeans. He shoves his hand into his pocket and brings out his phone.

Of course…

He puts it to his ear. “Hey, babe.” When he looks at me, he winks and mouths “girlfriend”.

“Which one?!” I shout, and he gives me that look of betrayal. I throw my hand over my mouth and laugh.

“Yeah, I’m free, what you doing?” I watch then as Eamon slips between the mesh lining, jumps out, and walks up the patio to our home.

I move to the middle of the trampoline and stare blankly at the glass door. Next year it’ll just be me, Mom, and Dad. Eamon is going off to college, so I really should just get used to playing by myself. I’ve got friends in little league, but it won’t be the same. I’m going to miss him, and I’m not sure how I’m going to deal with it.

I jump down into the yard and watch Sammy, our Golden Retriever, come rushing around the pool. He stops in front of me, drops his ball, and barks. I rub his soft, golden coat and pick up the ball before tossing it across the yard.

The sound of the glass door opening pulls my attention, and out comes my dad and my uncle.

“You watch the game on Sunday?” my dad asks, taking a drink of his ‘adult beverage’ as my mom likes to call it. I thought it was root beer one day, and boy was I wrong. Nasty stuff, I swore I was drinking gasoline.

“Yeah, fucking Raider’s, man—”

“Watch your mouth, Uncle T,” I say with a smug smile. The two of them look at me, and my dad points his drink right at me.

“That’s my boy.” He then smacks my uncle across the back of the head. “Listen to the kid, or I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.”

Sammy is back, dropping the ball at my feet. I bend and grab it, hearing my dad say, “Shoot, left my phone inside. I’ll be right back, then we can start the barbecue up.”

I toss the ball and watch as our dog goes rushing after it.

My uncle steps up beside me, his hand resting at the curve of my shoulder and neck. “You got a good arm, Ronan.” His hand gently rubs my muscle, and I turn my head to look up at him. “You’ll be quite the man one day, just like your brother.”

I smile, because that’s all I can hope for. To be like Eamon, the guy that gets the girls. The one that can play any sport and already has his entire life figured out.

When his hand moves to the back of my neck, he kneels down, his face coming slightly closer to mine than it ever has before. “I think you’ll be better than Eamon, though.”

“Yeah?” I ask, not really wanting that. I’ve never felt competitive, or the need to be better than my bigger brother. I want to be his equal.

“I do. When he goes away to college, I’ll make sure to fill in the space he leaves empty.” His smile is so genuine, and I can’t help but give him one back.

“I would love that, Uncle T.”

He chuckles. “You’ll have to help me watch my mouth. Sometimes it can run amuck.”

The glass door opens, and he stands up in front of me. I’m not entirely sure why but he doesn’t step away from me. I don’t think much of it because my brother told me that it just happens and it’s a ‘man’ thing. I just wish he wouldn’t have been so close so I could see it against the zipper of his jeans.

It's fine, he probably didn’t know.

“Alright, let’s get this party started!” my dad calls, which pulls my uncle from standing in front of me.

Maybe it won’t be so bad that Eamon is going off to college and leaving me. I’ll be fine.

AGE 10

It’s been three weeks since Eamon went off to college, and I miss him. My mom was worried already before he left how it would affect me, and now she’s talking about having me talk with someone because I barely eat. I’ve tried to, but it just doesn’t feel the same without him at the dinner table.

School has been hard to focus on, and I feel like I’m letting them down. I know I need to do better, not just for myself, but for my big brother. He wouldn’t want me to fall behind, and he promised he’d call whenever he could.

It’s Sunday so my uncle and their friends are over for the football game. They’re loud, but that’s to be expected, this is how it always is on game days. My mom drinks a bottle of wine, and I stay upstairs playing on my Sega in my room.

When I hear a knock at my door, I look up at the window. The sun is still out which means the game isn’t over.

“Who is it?” I ask, pausing the game and getting to my knees from my stomach I’d been laying on.

The door opens and my uncle walks in. I smile and put down my controller.

“Hey, kid, what are you doing up here alone?”

“Playing games.” I sigh, and look down at my fingers, fiddling with the string of my pajama pants. I’d been in them all day, mom likes to call it ‘lazy day’, so no judgements for being in our jammies.

“They said you’ve been taking your brother leaving for college really hard.” He steps into the room and closes the door behind him. As I lift my chin, he’s looking around. My room is a mixture of my big brother’s stuff and my own. I have a goldfish, and nearly every inch of my wall is covered in superhero posters. There are a few bands here and there, but mostly Batman and the Fantastic Four.

“Are you who they want me to talk to, Uncle T?” I ask, which draws his attention back to me. “Mom says I will become sick and is worried about me.”

“We all are.” His tone is gentle, dropping it lower as though whispering. “They did ask me to help you, but I’m not the one they want you to talk to. That’s someone else, a therapist.”

I get up off my knees and stand before him as he steps in front of me. He lifts my chin higher, giving me that warm smile he’s always had for me, ever since I can remember.

“I don’t know what’s wrong, honestly. Everything just feels…”

“Empty?” He places his hand onto my cheek. “I remember your dad going off to school, it was hard.”

Swallowing, I nod. “Yeah, I don’t really… know how to handle it.”

He moves his hand to my shoulder and turns me toward my bed where he has me sit, then settles next to me. I’ve never felt uncomfortable around my uncle, but I do the moment his hand rests on my leg. I’m not entirely sure but it just feels wrong, and I can’t quite figure out why. It’s what keeps me quiet and not asking him to move.

He would never do anything to hurt me.

Right?

“Your mom and dad wanted me to do what I can to help. You trust me, right?” I’ve always trusted my uncle. He has the same brown eyes as my dad, and he’s always watched out for me. When I look at him, I see family—and that’s what we are.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Good, and Ronan, this is a special kind of help that you can’t tell anyone about. Your mom and dad also trusted me with you.”

I swallow and as his hand moves a little further up my leg, my stomach begins to hurt. “O-Okay.”

“Promise to be a good boy?” he asks, and there is that part of me that has always wanted to be good for my parents. I want to be like my brother who never disappointed them. They, nor would my uncle, do anything to hurt me.

“Yeah.” I don’t sound like I agree, but I do, just my chest hurts and I feel like crying for some reason.

“If you even slip up once, you won’t just hurt me, but you’ll break up the family. It won’t just be Eamon that leaves, but everyone.”

My mouth opens as I begin to hyperventilate. “No, no.”

“Shh.” He leans in and places a kiss against my cheek, and I start crying. “It’s why you have to be good. Can you do that for me, Ronan?”

I nod, and my hands sweat profusely as I wipe them along my legs.

“Very good, and don’t worry, we will take it slow.”

I’m glad I didn’t eat today, I may have been sick, and again… I don’t even know why I feel this way.

He won’t hurt me.

Why would my own family hurt me?

AGE 12

“Ronan, I don’t understand what the problem is.” My mom has never gotten short with me, but I can’t blame her. I’ve been begging her to take me with her and dad for the weekend. “I thought you loved spending time with your uncle.”

At the mention of who my babysitter is going to be this weekend, I grab my elbows and pull into myself.

I know what he is doing to me is wrong, and I want to tell her so badly, but I’m afraid that the pain of my family separating hurts more than the physical things he does to me. It never stops. Even if they are here, they think he is just playing my games with me.

At the same time, why doesn’t she see between my words? I’ve been pleading with her through my behavior. I’ve dropped out of sports, stopped seeing my friends, and barely eat once a day. I’m so thin now, how is it not obvious that I’m suffering? The therapist she has me seeing is doing nothing, because I can’t even tell her.

She won’t understand, and according to my uncle, she has to tell on him. He reminds me every time I see him that I’ll destroy our family if I slip up. If I’m not a good boy .

“Sorry, Mom…” I drop my head, but she’s right beside me, gently placing her hands on my cheeks and lifting my gaze.

“Don’t be, Ronan honey, it’s okay.” She swipes her thumb across my cheek. “I love you, we will be back by dinner time on Sunday. Your uncle is running a bit late, but you’re big enough to be alone for an hour. We can’t miss our flight.”

My dad’s already in the car waiting. He has found no patience for me this past year. I’m no longer his good son. Not the one that was already making him proud by nine. I’ve become a delinquent in his eyes, but I’m screaming for help. I’m suffocating, and they are holding the pillow down on me as I lose the battle.

“I love you, Mom. Tell Dad I’m sorry for being difficult.”

She draws her hand across my forehead and then places a kiss against the spot right where my hairline starts. “Your father loves you, he just… lacks the same patience as your strong momma.”

I then hear the car horn and nod, shooing her away before he storms in and blames me.

“Bye, Mom.”

The door closes behind her, and the silence in the house is deafening. All I can hear is my pulse, my heart, my own thoughts. I’m shaking and begin looking around me as if searching for what I should do.

I should run away, but then what happens when Eamon comes home looking for me? He hasn’t come back in nearly a year and a half, but he might…

Maybe I can run away to him. He’d keep me safe like he always did. He would believe me and promise to make everything better. I’d not have to hurt anymore.

Uncle T told me that it wouldn’t hurt after a while, that I would get used to it. He thought he proved his point when he started to make me finish after he did. It still hurt because I didn’t understand why my body reacted the way that it did.

It’s because he is right, it’s what I want… even if it hurts.

I aimlessly walk to the kitchen. I’ve been reading these forums on the web about taking your life. Some would say they were going to do it to free themselves from the pain they were in. Maybe that’s my only way of getting out of this.

There would be no risk of me breaking up the family. I’d free my brother from having to come back, if he was ever planning to. My uncle wouldn’t be able to do the things he was doing to me anymore. I think my parents would be happy again.

The block of steak knives that are sitting beside the sink have my attention.

Most people talk about taking pain pills, an entire bottle, and just falling asleep to not wake up again. That would be less painful than stabbing myself.

Absentmindedly, I head upstairs to my parents’ bathroom. My dad suffers from a bad back and makes jokes about being on ‘drugs’ daily to help with the pain. I’ve seen him carrying around the bottle, so when I open the cabinet, it’s easy to spot the one that says “OxyContin”.

I pull it out and look at it, before opening it.

Hopefully it isn’t instant, I’d like to call Eamon and at least tell him goodbye. I said bye to Mom, not Dad, but he probably won’t care.

Taking the cup by the sink, I put it under the faucet, turn the water on, and fill it up. The moment it’s filled, I put the bottle of medicine to my lips and tilt it back, taking in a few pills before downing water.

Not bad, I don’t know why I’m not even scared. Should I be?

I repeat the action, over and over, until the bottle is empty. Placing both items down, I stare at myself briefly. I’m already dying, my heart just hasn’t stopped. That’s just the last piece of this.

Moving out of the bathroom, I walk to my room and grab the wireless phone before sitting at the edge of my bed. I dial my big brother’s number, knowing it by heart, and hoping that he picks up the phone.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

“Hi, you’ve reached Eamon Byrne. If I didn’t answer, I’m probably too busy. Leave a message and I’ll get back to ya when I can.”

Beep.

I stay silent for a moment.

“Hey, big brother, it’s Ronan.” My eyes gloss over, and everything blurs. “I just wanted to call and see what you were up to. Let you know that I’ve missed you. That I’m sorry we’ve not seen each other in a while.” The warmth of my tears falling down my cheeks wash over me and I choke on a sob. “I just want you to know I love you, and I still look up to you, and get the chance to say goodbye.”

Beep. Beep. Beep. The line goes dead, but I just keep talking. “I wanted to go to more football games with you, maybe get to the Superbowl even though the tickets are expensive.

“You can still go, I give you permission.”

I’m not sure if it’s the medicine or just my own fatigue, but I feel tired. I lay down with the phone still to my ear. “Take pictures and put them up to the sky, I’ll watch for them.

“I love you. I’m sorry I’m not strong like you. I hope you miss me…”

I don’t say anymore, and cry until I’ve fallen asleep, hoping that I don’t wake again.