My Brother's Keeper

"SHE'S NOT HERE DAMMIT! SHE HASN'T BEEN HERE FOR A YEAR!" - taking a shuddering breath in I pull my car over to the side as my eyesight blurs. "Do you want to know why she isn't here mom?" I say more quietly, looking at my hands I grip the steering wheel wishing for once I can crush something other than myself.

13 months ago my little brother Chance flew out to live with me, we were as close as siblings can be. I remember the day he was born like it was yesterday, this round pink looking thing in my mom's arms was so fascinating to me. Then as you can imagine, when my four year old self realized this new sibling of mine didn't do anything the fascination wore off. I would turn my snotty nose up at the small bundle hardly able to crawl, I had things to do that was far greater than spending time just laying around! I would go outside digging for ants for immortality potions or used crayons to draw a portal to another world in a corner of the driveway. At a young age I knew there was a whole world of things to discover and do, I heard the stories from my schoolmates of things they've seen and swore I would one day too. When it was time to stop exploring I'd run to the bathroom to wash away the evidence, if I was caught exploring I'd be yelled at. Mama always told me the only things in life worth marveling at is the love of God so naturally I could never tell her about the amazing things I heard from friends or she'd remove me from school like before. My mom believed a lot of things in life were a test of temptation to steer us away from God so when she waked into my old daycare and saw me playing magic blocks she was angry. I was removed from there and lectured on the idea of magic being sinful; I started hiding stuff from my mom at that point.

As soon as my brother could join me we'd go on all sorts of adventures together. We rescued yellow cows stuck in cheese pits on the moon, climb on top of fire ants to defeat the evil toads and even fell in love with royalty at the magical age of 10 and 5. I imagined my prince as any preteen would: golden hair and blue eyed on a white steed. My brother on the other hand wanted a pretty princess in a butterfly color dress to come in on a rainbow horse. Chance was born strange so I was used to his ridiculous imagination at this time but it seemed I wasn't ready for the extent of his strangeness. When Chance turned nine he refused to put on the Sunday church outfit picked out for him and for thirty minutes my parents attempted to get him to put it on. When Chance told them he "didn't like the way dresses made her feel and doesn't want to wear them anymore" dad spanked him before mom forcefully put the dress on him. I thought she was weird to not like dresses but not enough to warrant a spanking, we were both really quiet that day.

After nineteen years of putting up with our 'parents' Chance had had enough, and I was surprised he lasted longer than I did. Back in high school, I applied to as many out of state universities I thought would accept me. When I received four acceptance letters it was a no brainer to pick the furthest one from my childhood home. Of course leaving my sibling was the only hard thing about the choice so the night before I left, me and Chance had one last "sleepover". We grabbed our blankets off of our beds, piled them on the floor of my room and spent the night watching old action movies. In the morning I cried while my brother went to his room locking the door. From the taxi, plane, to another taxi my wailing heart attempted to convince me to return but my mental health told me to not look back.

I, of course kept in touch with him over the years making sure to facetime every few days at the least. It was during one of these facetimes that I learned the reason for my little sibling's strangeness, she was a boy. My little brother Chance was born as my sister Carmine. I laughed at first, not really comprehending what my sister was telling me until upon her silence did I realize she was being serious. I asked her how she knew, what it meant, and what she planned on doing. She confessed that she would attempt to tell our parents and go from there. A week later she called me, we had basic small talk before she bought out the big guns and asked to live with me. I was ecstatic, "I had missed my little sister" I exclaimed unthinkingly. She got quiet and then asked if I could call her Chance. When Chance arrived we had some bumps to work through, he was fresh out of an abusive environment while I had some years to adjust so it was expected. We were patient with each other and each passing day it became more apparent that an ease had settled into his shoulders with me. I didn't ask what exactly happened when he talked to our parents and he didn't tell me. There were plenty of times in that short month of time we had where I accidentally used the wrong pronouns or name but Chance knew I was trying. When I would call him Carmine his voice got obnoxiously high pitched and he'd flutter his eyelashes in my directions. I believed we were both truly happy.

Our parents contacted us only one time while Chance was living with me. It was ten a.m. on a Thursday morning when my cell phone rang. I should have been prepared to expect a call from them on a Thursday seeing as they spend Sunday, Monday and Wednesday evening at church services. Tuesday they reserve for silent bible review/reading while on Saturday they like to ignore the world for a day of cooking and historic bible shows. "Super packed schedule-" they would say when told about school events or parent teacher conference, "-maybe next time". We got use to our parent's stifling and neglectful parenting early on and learned how to protect ourselves from their wrath. So when talking to them on the phone I knew to keep my responses short and sweet.

"Good Morning mom".

"Praise to almighty above that it is a Good Morning Maggie, have you prayed to give thanks for waking up?"- my mother speaks in her gravel flute tone.

"Yes mom I always do." - short, sweet response just like every month.

"Is Carmine there? Has she followed like her good older sister and been praying every morning and night? Put her on the phone." - he talks like he always does, without room for answering. I give Chance the phone and leave the living room, climbing into my bed I pull out my laptop determined to shake off the oppressive energy my parents give off even through the phone. After a few hours I realize I never got my phone back and leave my room to find Chance. Chance is in the kitchen where I left him but now he is sitting on the floor just zoned out.

"Chance are you okay?" - kneeling down next to him I look at him concerned. He runs a hand through his newly cut hair before giving me a sad look and just saying he feels tired. Handing me my phone Chance goes into his room and I resolve to order lots of steaming soup for dinner tonight. Good soup is good for the soul and that's just what we need after a phone call with our parents. That night I have the food set up on the kitchen counter and go to knock on my brothers door. I haven't seen Chance after he went into his room earlier but I figured he was resting since he said he was tired.

KNocK kNoCk

He doesn't answer.

I join therapy and move to another neighborhood. My grades have dropped but my professors gave me extra credit assignments to complete to get them back up and I'm starting to improve. A ten a.m. on a Thursday arrives and I pick up the expected call from our parents.

"Good Morning Mom"

"Praise to the almighty it is a glorious morning, have you prayed to give thanks to God for waking you up today?"- my mom asks in her gravelly flute toned voice.

"I always do." - I reply, short and sweet.

"Is Carmine there? Is she following in her older sisters footsteps and praying every morning and night? Put her on the phone." - Dad asks in his unwavering rasp.

"Carmine isn't here actually, she started a bible class that runs on Thursday mornings but I'll tell her you called." - I say this calmly as if I believe it. They controlled you in life Chance, I'll keep your memory free in death.