Oathkeeper

Seventh Heaven?

One chilly hand over Carina’s mouth, the other over her own eyes, Michelle’s forehead resembled the bellows of an accordion. Add in the “Birthday Girl” tiara on top, and it was a bizarre scene.

There, in the cramped and dusty underbelly below Michelle’s bunk beds, Carina felt her heart in her ears. “Lub-dub. Lub-dub, Lub-dub,” punctuated by thuds and wails from the hall.

Assured that Carina comprehended her plea to get down and be quiet, Michelle drew her hand away from Carina’s face and to the bottom corner of the door. The door moved imperceptibly behind her fingertips. Michelle paused, and then as the yelling crescendoed, shoved the door shut.

Though they couldn’t see what was happening, from the sounds of it, Michelle’s little brother was in big trouble. Biscuit, the terrier, was frantic in a futile endeavor to escape the crate in the kitchen. The doorbell rang, and the melee (aside from Biscuit) fell silent.

Footsteps in the hall. “Git to your room,” their mom seethed, and receded to the basement.

Tanner burst into the bedroom, collapsed on the mattress above the girl’s heads, and buried his face in the pillow.

A knock at the door now.

Michelle bolted from the bed to the entry.

“CREEEEAAAAKKK” went the front door.

“Oh hey! So glad you came. Sorry it took me a minute. Had to put the dog in the crate.” Michelle’s words hung in the air.

“I’m already seven,” said a faceless voice from behind the door.

A syrupy-sweet, faceless, grownup voice interjected, “She meant to say, thanks for inviting me. Sweet-pea, I’ll be back at 5. Have a great time.”

One set of footprints came inside, the other headed to the street.

Carina emerged slowly from beneath the bed. She laid a hand Tanner’s tiny heaving shoulder. “You ok?” Through jagging breaths, he managed an unconvincing, “fine.”

Michelle and a classmate stood in the kitchen, trying on party hats, as if this were any other Saturday.

The doorbell rang a few more times that afternoon. Nine girls (and Tanner) gorged themselves on unicorn cupcakes. They took selfies, flashing peace signs and bright smiles, each with varying numbers of teeth. (First grade had seen more than a few tooth-fairy visits.)

Carina felt dizzy. It wasn’t the sugar, either. Had she imagined it? Tanner and Michelle were acting so. The whole party, and not a parent in sight until pickup time.

When her dad arrived, Carina couldn’t get in the car fast enough.

Eleventh Hour

“Alllll is calm. All is bright…” St. Matthew’s Primary School students sang to the accompaniment of the bell choir. Michelle, in fifth grade, was a soprano and a soloist. Despite being the youngest, Tanner, exceptionally strong physically and at reading music, managed four of the deepest and heaviest bells.

The conductor’s white gloves drew out each note in perfect time. The children were laser focused on the task at hand. But between songs, Tanner’s eyes scanned the audience. At intermission, he snuck into the crowd, searching. No luck, hands outstretched in a shrug, he mouthed to Michelle: “Have you seen her?”

Michelle shrugged back, nodding no.

Their eyes back on the conductor now, he told himself to shake it off.

As the finale came, and the lyric “no crib for a bed” rose, Tanner thought about the year he spent sleeping in the van. Maybe he deserved it. At least mom had said so. As though the cruelty was a reflection of his morals or his worth, or lack thereof. As if the punishment fit some crime.

The conductor’s hands stopped. Tanner dampened the bells, and laid them down. With one movement, the conductor directed the children into a unison bow. The crowd erupted in applause. Tanner’s eyes reviewed the faces once more. Students filed into the crowd met by loving embraces, bouquets, and misty-eyed expressions of pride. Tanner and Michelle continued through the throngs to the back row, to watch and to wish.

In groups of a dozen or so at first, the crowd began to disperse. Then handfuls at a time. And finally, just the pair and the conductor remained. The siblings helped their teacher put away the bells and the music folios.

She didn’t ask who was coming to get them. She knew. Nobody was coming.

“Let’s stay at my place tonight, ok? We can make hot chocolate.” While kinder than any evening at their actual residence, all the cocoa in the world couldn’t fill the emptiness Tanner felt. Even still, upon seeing relief on Michelle’s face, he willed excitement onto his own.

Sweet Sixteen

Projected on a king-sized sheet in the front of the cafeteria, a slideshow of moments captured on film. Grainy polaroids gave way to pixelated low-resolution digital camera prints and finally hi-def cell phone videos.

First days. Last days. Field days.

Tournaments. Concerts. Dances.

Michelle’s cameos were few and far between—eliciting the most mixed and dichotomous feelings.

Like Carina and Michelle in front of the “Somebody’s 7!” banner. At eighteen and sitting in the front row now, both girls sank at their first thought upon seeing it: Tanner crying on the bed, rather than disturbing their glamour shot.

The PA system had a hollow, tinny tone…

So make the best of this test, and don't ask why

It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time

It's something unpredictable

But in the end, it's right

I hope you had the time of your life

An arrow of an anthem into Michelle’s very soul. Her mind filled with clarity of purpose. In turn, each graduate traversed the stage. Each had decorated their caps – some with an homage to their selected institute of higher learning, others: a tribute to family. Michelle’s bore two things: a photo of her and Tanner, and a to-do list with the items “Graduate” and “Emancipate.”

Monday morning, Tanner’s sixteenth birthday, began as each day before it. Michelle pulled her hair into a tidy dutch braid. She wore the same dress she’d worn under her gown to graduation. Tanner shined his penny loafers—the only shoes he owned. They left the house, stomachs growling. Nobody noticed their departure or their absence.

Walking side by side, they knew the day would end like no other.

“Michelle Elena Davis, do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“I do.”