She had always been overbearing. Ever since her first script was turned into a movie did she become more controlling. In those days, I didn’t understand why she celebrated so much. No six-year-old would be able to comprehend it. Becca and I were merely along for the ride. Who knew this was a rollercoaster we couldn’t get off of.
* * * * *
My eyes watched the driveway as the bus pulled away with a shudder. I could just picture my mom pacing behind the blinds in her office. From outside her shadow looked frazzled and distraught, despite only seeing an outline. She was working on her next masterpiece, or that’s what she always claimed. Turning away from my window, I concentrated on the ceiling. The bus was loud and bustling with life and excitement that made the air tingle. Everyone chatted eagerly, speaking of their games for recess and trades for lunch.
I could hear Becca giggling with her friends from where they sat four rows ahead of me. We were both much livelier outside of the house, being around kids our own age. A part of me wished we could stay at school all the time, but knew that was impossible. Just as it seemed we had arrived at school, we were quickly back on the bus and returning home after six hours. They felt like a blur, much like any time I was away from our estate.
“Liam, come over today. We can watch that new cartoon and have a water balloon fight,” Mark said, appearing over the back of my seat.
“I can’t. I have chores,” I replied, using the same excuse every time.
“Aww, come on! You can do it later,” another said, his head appearing over the seat in front of me.
“My mom wouldn’t be happy if I did,” I answered, shaking my head. Over the years I had learned to resist peer pressure like this. It would be a different story if I didn’t. “Besides, it’s Friday. My grandparents are visiting.” Both groaned, returning to their seats not at all happy with my response. Glancing out the window I could see the bus was nearing my stop. Getting up and making my way through the aisle I stopped at Becca’s row, glancing at her.
“I’m coming,” she groaned, forcing herself to get up and follow me. As the bus jolted to a stop, we made our way down the stairs as the door opened with a loud hiss. Jumping down I immediately went to the mail box and retrieved the day’s posts. There wasn’t as much today as there had been in previous years or even in previous weeks.
Together we walked quietly down the dirt road, dreading what was awaiting us once we had returned. The possibility of our grandparents coming relieved some of the anxiety. Midway down the mile-long driveway, I could see the house beginning to come into view.
“Only two days… Just two days home,” Becca said, breaking the silence between us. She looked at me hopeful, as if trying to make this whole ordeal sound like a piece of cake. “And we do get to see Grandma and Grandpa.”
“How does that fix anything?” I shot her a glare, not exactly up for trying to make this weekend seem any better. Her silence informed me that I had stumped her. Shouldering my bag a bit, I trudged on ahead of Becca. Turning on the final stretch towards home, I blinked seeing that my grandparent’s car wasn’t there. It should have been there, like every Friday at 3:30 on the dot. This had been our routine for the past six years. Exchanging a glance between us, we both broke into a sprint, our hearts echoing in our ears. As we ran the gravel crunched under our shoes, making this final stretch seem like it took a century. Skidding to the stairs we launched ourselves up the porch and through the front door.
“Mom! Where’re Grandma and Grandpa?” Becca hollered the instant she made it in the entrance. Our home was eerily silent; already it was a bad omen.
“Mom? Casey?” I joined her in the call for our mom and her friend. We kept quiet as our ears strained to hear for something that told us they were here. In the back of my mind I knew they were here, as both their cars were still parked in the driveway. Finally, there was something.
“Hey guys… Sorry we were just… talking,” a voice said softly, coming down the hallway from our mom’s office.
“Where’s mom?” I watched him, very curious to know why they had been so quiet up until now. His silence spoke more than any words could to us. Scratching his head, Casey sighed.
“We need to talk first… You can’t see your grandparents today,” he said as we followed him into the kitchen. Turning on his heel he leaned against the counter, arms crossed as his eyes focused on the floor.
“Why not? We always see Grandma and Grandpa on the weekends,” Becca said looking up at Casey, a puzzled look on her face.
“Becca, something happened,” he said, glancing briefly at me before kneeling before her to see eye-to-eye. “This morning, your grandma wasn’t feeling very well.”
It bothered me to see him trying to tiptoe around the subject. Adults did that too often around kids, thinking we were easily saddened and couldn’t handle the blunt truth. Right now I would have rather heard the truth than watch Casey try and broach the subject as carefully as possible.
“If she’s sick she can go see the doctor,” reasoned Becca.
“It’s not that simple, Becca,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “She passed away earlier this afternoon.” Now it all made sense. The silence, the missing car… Hearing the truth left a bitter taste in my mouth as much of the noise around me faded away. Becca was now crying as I turned and headed for my room upstairs. Closing my door tightly I leaned against it, my mind blank. Something died in me as I went over Casey’s words in my head.
“She’s at peace,” he whispered.
* * * * *
Throughout the time people milled about our house, they would glance furtively at Becca and I as we perched on the top stairs. They whispered their apologies to mom and Casey before reminiscing of our Grandma. My eyes followed them as they each walked by occasionally, unable to meet our gaze.
People said she died because of her big heart. Others said it was the second heart attack and her very active lifestyle. The real reason why Grandma died was on everyone’s mind. All the stress and worry over Becca and I is what finally killed her. She had seen how our mom was, and knew it was unfair that we suffered.
Eventually the people ceased to come throughout the day and we cleaned up. My mind wandered back to the funeral earlier this morning and how perfect it was; taken straight out of a storybook. We each had our duties and lines to say, all created by our mom. This included Casey, who wasn’t even related to the family, just our fatherly stand-in; her companion.
Pulling a chair from the dinner table I sat down as our mom served dinner. Her cheery exterior was all a ruse, another scene in her scripted life. She glanced at us, waiting for our lines to follow as she led us through this nightly routine. Some nights we would be working on this movie scene for hours until we got it right. We were her very own cast; her puppets. Her parrots; trained and knowing exactly what to say every single time.
I casually pushed my food around my dish, not really feeling at all hungry. Her eyes must have settled on me as I blandly went through my lines, not at all wanting to put any emotion in it. The day had been long and draining; nothing would have made me want to act out her perfect family. Those eyes were now burning into me; I could feel them without needing to look up.
Casey cleared his throat, wanting to take the attention off me. “Not tonight honey, we’re all just ready for some quiet,” he said before taking a bite of his food. I sensed she fixed her expertly tuned glare on him as I glanced up and saw him shift in his seat for a moment before taking a drink of water.
“I want to hear him say his lines,” she said, teeth almost clenched.
“Can I be excused?” I looked to Casey, knowing I’d get the answer I wanted from him.
“Of cour—“ he started.
“No, he can’t. No one can leave the table until we do this right!”
“Honey, come on, we’re tired and he’s don—“
“I don’t care if you’re tired! We do this right; it’s how it’s supposed to work!” Setting my fork down firmly, I leaned back in my chair, glancing at Becca who averted her gaze. I said my lines over and over again until they were accepted. Pushing back my seat, I got up and left the table as Becca trailed behind.
“Night Liam,” she whispered, peeking at me before slipping into her room.
“Night,” I murmured, pressing open my door. It closed with a soft click as I moved forwards and sat at my desk. The surface was very bare, only holding a few books, a desk lamp and some pens and pencils neatly arranged. In the very center of it sat a bible. My fingers caressed its glossy cover and embossed lettering before moving to the pages. Flipping it open gently I gazed at the first few pages to see my name and the note from my Grandma.
A smile formed on my face as I remembered the day she gave it to me. Laughing quietly to myself I turned a few more pages till I found that sermon from so long ago. This lesson always stuck with me, even after six years of having heard it. My eyes skimmed over the names, Cain and Abel. What a sign they were. The instant we were finished learning I began asking questions even the Sunday school teacher couldn’t answer despite her vast reaches of knowledge.
Cain killed Abel out of jealousy, but I knew there had to be more. Being brothers, Abel had to have done something additional than just getting more attention. I was jealous that Becca got all the attention after she was born, but not jealous enough to kill her. Abel pushed his brother to do the unthinkable. I could understand Cain’s mind-set. He and I would have gotten along just fine. Closing the book I grinned as I got into bed.
* * * * *
We barely spoke to each other. As much as my mom tried, I wouldn’t respond except to answer my lines at dinner. It was sometime after the funeral that we started staying home more, and continued with my mom’s fantasies for her next script. Two whole weeks would pass before we returned to school, and even then already we were starting to prepare for summer. I cringed at the very thought of being stuck home for two and a half months.
Today was another scorching day to fry an egg on the sidewalk. Both Becca and I remained at home per our mother’s request, despite Casey’s pleading. I crouched in the grass below the deck as I waited for Becca. Above, Casey was trying to persuade mom to let us return to school after having only come back for a week.
“Come on Brenda, they need to actually finish the school year,” he said, watching her from his seat. I could imagine her face frowning in anger and frustration as she paced before him.
“No, we’re going to finish this, and finish it right the first time, Casey,” she hissed, shooting a glare at him. Her footsteps finally ceased somewhere on the opposite end of the deck. Hearing his chair shift I could tell he had gotten up and crossed the short distance between them.
“Please, just give them some time with their friends before school ends,” he pleaded. I figured by now he was hugging her from behind, trying to be more convincing.
“I need to get back to work,” Brenda said, pulling away from him. I listened as she heaved open the sliding glass door and entered the house. It closed slowly behind her before sealing shut.
I looked up, seeing Becca come around the corner of the house. She had met me like I asked, and came up the small grassy hill to where I sat.
“What did you want to show me, Liam?” Taking her wrist I pulled her to sit next to me and gestured for her to be quiet. Becca pursed her lips, looking at me quizzically. Just as she did so, I heard the sliding glass door open just a bit.
“Casey, the house smells funny… I can’t figure out why,” I heard our mom say. Standing up carefully I stood and peeked over the lip of the deck.
“What do you mean it ‘smells funny’?” He approached her, a confused look on his face. My eyes widened seeing that this was not how I had planned. Running up the knoll a bit I called out his name as the door slid shut behind him.
“Casey! No! Get out of there!” I shouted as much as I could but he glanced at me, waving before turning and disappearing from my view. Taking another step the house suddenly exploded in a bright ball of flame, its force sending me on my back. Glass from the windows hurtled outwards, littering the deck with debris. Becca screamed, covering her head and ears, unsure as to what just occurred.
Sitting up, my eyes scanned the house, seeing it engulfed flames. I had only suffered one loss, and that was Casey. It was over. I had liberated us both. Looking over the scene, I smirked, sitting back in the grass as the flames continued to lick at the painted wood and the personal contents of our home.
As Cain I had killed my Abel.
