The Broken by Sean Michael Frawley
liked him, and most likely could never be persuaded to change its mind.
"Tittywinks. Me pay Tittywinks?" Ayden said as he placed the game pieces into a small bag and set the cards into their intended slot.
Link chuckled. Ayden's latest verbal concoction would no doubt create quite a stir in mixed company. Link headed upstairs to find the game. When he turned to ask if Ayden wanted something to drink, he nearly tripped over him. No longer sitting on the floor, Ayden stood one step away like a miniature shadow.
"What's the matter, Bug? You want to come with me?"
Ayden nodded uneasily then grabbed Link's hand and peered up the stairs from behind Link's leg.
In the voice of the space captain from one of Ayden's favorite cartoons, Link said, "To infinity!" Usually this elicited a grin or, on good days, an outright laugh. Not here. Not tonight.
Link had no clue what was going on with his little brother, but he didn't like it. Whether his dad wanted to talk about it or not, the fact remained. Ayden's behavior was eerily reminiscent of the way their mother had acted a few weeks before the fire.
With quivering lips and soulful eyes, Ayden looked up at Link and said, "I be bwave." His words sounded hollow and lacked any real conviction. Ayden wrapped his tiny arms around Link's right leg, tightening his grip each time Link attempted to move.
Unable to bend down to his level, Link hugged him from the top half, pressing his hands into Ayden's back. "It'll be okay, Bug," he said in a pathetic attempt to calm Ayden's fear. Feeling awkward, he patted him reassuringly on the back.
Link despised the words the instant they left his mouth. They were a lie, and he knew it. He had no idea if things were going to be okay. How could he? He didn't have the faintest idea what was even wrong. And Lord knows that he hadn't found a way to make his own life okay.
The phrase sounded like something his father would say, and Link hated it. He vividly remembered looking into his father's eyes, in much the same way Ayden was doing now, after his mother had died. The realization that she would never come home had rocked Link's world to the point of nearly capsizing it. Though he hadn't realized it until then, his mother's love had been the glue that held his entire cosmos together.
He could still remember the rigid contours of his dad's face, his lips thinned, his jaw extended like a boxer awaiting the knock-out blow. Devoid of emotion, his father's voice resonated as if speaking from the dead.
"It'll be okay," his father had said, cold and empty, like he'd never even known her. It was as if his father had no idea how irreplaceable his mother really was.
Link had always hated him for those words. He had cursed his dad. He'd cursed God. He'd cursed the universe. At one point, he even remembered cursing himself. Since that night, Link had longed for a cosmic return policy that would allow him to reclaim his mother in exchange for his useless father. It was wrong to think this way. Perhaps he was even being unfair, but truthfully Link knew that he was far beyond the point of caring whether he was being fair or not. Life was unfair. He wanted his mother back. It was as simple as that.
But when Link looked at Ayden, unable to rescue him from his own fears, a terrible understanding slapped Link across the face. Perhaps a person said that things would be okay when there was nothing left to say. Maybe, when the world suddenly stopped spinning and the sun no longer rose in the east, 'it will be okay' was the only thing left to say.
He felt an intense pang of guilt for the way he had treated his father since moving away from Pensy. Link knew he had been exceptionally hard on him, feeling more than ever that in moving they had abandoned his mother. But, maybe it was time to move on with his life. Pausing, Link came to an abrupt revelation about what he should do regarding the mysterious hatch.
He needed to open it, and soon.
Ayden loosened his grip a little then raised his head to look Link in the face. "I supewhewo," he said, puffing out his chest.
"That's right, little buddy. You are a superhero. So what's your super power tonight? Can you shoot webs or fly over buildings?"
"I vibisle. He not see me," Ayden said, still trying his best to act brave.
Link sat down on the stairs and pulled Ayden onto his lap. "Ayden, who is this he you keep talking about? Is it a real person, or are you just pretending?"
Link hated to doubt his brother, but he had to ask. A couple of weeks ago, Ayden had sworn a bear was outside his window ready to eat him. Later he'd claimed that a snake-bee hissed at him from beneath the folds of his bedding. It was often hard to tell when he was being honest. Still, the fear in Ayden's eyes told Link to take his latest claim seriously.
"What is it, Ayden? What are you not telling me?"
"I not hiding secwets. Secwets bad. Dad say so. I good. I'm a supewhewo."
Clearly this was getting him nowhere, so Link tried another approach. "Arrgh, Matey, we be pirates on a quest for frozen booty. We must hurry before someone steals our treasure. Are ya wit' me?" Link said in his best pirate voice.
Ayden's eyes flashed, switching in intensity from a dull sheen to a lighthouse glow. Around the bend, still hidden by a diminishing forest of panic, was a smile waiting for the right moment to erupt. It was an amazing transformation.
Even stranger, Link thought, was how he had effectively pulled Ayden from his own land of imaginary fear into a new, happier land of Link's own design. Link's land held the promise of chocolate-chocolate chunk booty. If only ice cream and pirates could solve all of life's problems.
As two pirates, they climbed the stairs to discover the buried traditional sea game, Tiddlywinks, and celebrated their find with chocolate ice cream as promised.
Though Ayden remained jumpy, occasionally glancing over his shoulder or looking at random walls for no apparent reason, he settled down considerably. Maybe things were going to be okay after all.
14
The Hatch
Link lay in bed that night and stared up into the darkness. Every time he shut his eyes, his head swam with images of squeaky chairs, cruel teasing, and other unspeakable tortures of school, such as grammar and bathrooms with no stall doors.
With a start, he sat up. The hatch. He had totally forgotten about his decision to open the hatch. With a renewed sense of purpose, Link jumped out of bed and fumbled around the floor for a sweatshirt. Finally locating one, he threw it over his head and punched his arms through the sleeves only to tear it off seconds later in disgust. Either he had to stop running in the same thing every day, or laundry needed to become a higher priority. The noxious fumes of armpit odor and sweat had nearly knocked him unconscious.
Repulsed, Link threw the fetid garment back to the floor. He grabbed a long sleeved t-shirt from his dresser and set off to change his world forever.
On his way through the house, Link tried to remain as stealthy as possible to avoid waking up his dad. There was no reason to feel guilty. After all, he wasn't technically sneaking out if he stayed in his own yard. Perhaps he should add rationalization to his list of not-so-superpowers.
Link tiptoed through the maze of living room furniture, trying his best to minimize the inevitable squeaks made by old wooden floors. Carefully, he pried open the back door, one inch at a time. To his relief, the rusty hinges remained silent, permitting a hasty exit without the slightest hint of protest.
Link crept across the tiled porch and wound his way down the path. Suddenly, a flood light spilled over the entire yard as if in search of a prisoner making an attempted jailbreak. The high-watt motion sensor had detected the movement on the path and now framed his silhouette against the light blue paint of the house.
How could he have been so stupid? He had forgotten about the light. He scurried to the side of the house and pressed himself flat against the wall. The last measure was not truly necessary as he had probably cleared the sensor's twenty-foot radius, but he wasn't taking any more chances.
He peered through the dim backdrop of Mrs. Devereaux's flowered curtains with justifiable concern. His father
's room faced the front of the house, so Link wasn't worried about him. However, if the nosy neighbor had seen him, his days of stealth and intrigue were over. Faster than the blink of an eye, she would have pressed 9-1-1. Within minutes there would be a police-car parade lining the front of the house.
The few times he'd spoken with Mrs. Devereaux, she'd seemed nice enough, and she appeared to mean well. But, his dad had warned him to steer clear of her whenever possible. He'd told him that he'd overheard some neighbors saying that ever since the Navy had temporarily relocated her husband to a base in Florida, she had made it her mission to know everyone else's business. And after the unwanted attention we'd all received in Pensy, even Link's gregarious father appeared reluctant to give much for the neighbors to gossip about.
Seeing nothing suspicious, Link crept along the wall until he reached the trumpet vine. He pulled the foliage back as he had done before. Then he searched for the handle. With the added camouflage of the night sky, it was nearly impossible. Link tried to visualize where the door had been and pressed his hand against the wall. Nothing. He moved his hand up and down, but it all felt the same.
Frustrated, he decided to return when he had more light. As he stood, he propped his hand against the wall for leverage. That was when he felt the metallic edge of the handle nestle neatly into his palm. His pulse quickened with excitement. Now
"Tittywinks. Me pay Tittywinks?" Ayden said as he placed the game pieces into a small bag and set the cards into their intended slot.
Link chuckled. Ayden's latest verbal concoction would no doubt create quite a stir in mixed company. Link headed upstairs to find the game. When he turned to ask if Ayden wanted something to drink, he nearly tripped over him. No longer sitting on the floor, Ayden stood one step away like a miniature shadow.
"What's the matter, Bug? You want to come with me?"
Ayden nodded uneasily then grabbed Link's hand and peered up the stairs from behind Link's leg.
In the voice of the space captain from one of Ayden's favorite cartoons, Link said, "To infinity!" Usually this elicited a grin or, on good days, an outright laugh. Not here. Not tonight.
Link had no clue what was going on with his little brother, but he didn't like it. Whether his dad wanted to talk about it or not, the fact remained. Ayden's behavior was eerily reminiscent of the way their mother had acted a few weeks before the fire.
With quivering lips and soulful eyes, Ayden looked up at Link and said, "I be bwave." His words sounded hollow and lacked any real conviction. Ayden wrapped his tiny arms around Link's right leg, tightening his grip each time Link attempted to move.
Unable to bend down to his level, Link hugged him from the top half, pressing his hands into Ayden's back. "It'll be okay, Bug," he said in a pathetic attempt to calm Ayden's fear. Feeling awkward, he patted him reassuringly on the back.
Link despised the words the instant they left his mouth. They were a lie, and he knew it. He had no idea if things were going to be okay. How could he? He didn't have the faintest idea what was even wrong. And Lord knows that he hadn't found a way to make his own life okay.
The phrase sounded like something his father would say, and Link hated it. He vividly remembered looking into his father's eyes, in much the same way Ayden was doing now, after his mother had died. The realization that she would never come home had rocked Link's world to the point of nearly capsizing it. Though he hadn't realized it until then, his mother's love had been the glue that held his entire cosmos together.
He could still remember the rigid contours of his dad's face, his lips thinned, his jaw extended like a boxer awaiting the knock-out blow. Devoid of emotion, his father's voice resonated as if speaking from the dead.
"It'll be okay," his father had said, cold and empty, like he'd never even known her. It was as if his father had no idea how irreplaceable his mother really was.
Link had always hated him for those words. He had cursed his dad. He'd cursed God. He'd cursed the universe. At one point, he even remembered cursing himself. Since that night, Link had longed for a cosmic return policy that would allow him to reclaim his mother in exchange for his useless father. It was wrong to think this way. Perhaps he was even being unfair, but truthfully Link knew that he was far beyond the point of caring whether he was being fair or not. Life was unfair. He wanted his mother back. It was as simple as that.
But when Link looked at Ayden, unable to rescue him from his own fears, a terrible understanding slapped Link across the face. Perhaps a person said that things would be okay when there was nothing left to say. Maybe, when the world suddenly stopped spinning and the sun no longer rose in the east, 'it will be okay' was the only thing left to say.
He felt an intense pang of guilt for the way he had treated his father since moving away from Pensy. Link knew he had been exceptionally hard on him, feeling more than ever that in moving they had abandoned his mother. But, maybe it was time to move on with his life. Pausing, Link came to an abrupt revelation about what he should do regarding the mysterious hatch.
He needed to open it, and soon.
Ayden loosened his grip a little then raised his head to look Link in the face. "I supewhewo," he said, puffing out his chest.
"That's right, little buddy. You are a superhero. So what's your super power tonight? Can you shoot webs or fly over buildings?"
"I vibisle. He not see me," Ayden said, still trying his best to act brave.
Link sat down on the stairs and pulled Ayden onto his lap. "Ayden, who is this he you keep talking about? Is it a real person, or are you just pretending?"
Link hated to doubt his brother, but he had to ask. A couple of weeks ago, Ayden had sworn a bear was outside his window ready to eat him. Later he'd claimed that a snake-bee hissed at him from beneath the folds of his bedding. It was often hard to tell when he was being honest. Still, the fear in Ayden's eyes told Link to take his latest claim seriously.
"What is it, Ayden? What are you not telling me?"
"I not hiding secwets. Secwets bad. Dad say so. I good. I'm a supewhewo."
Clearly this was getting him nowhere, so Link tried another approach. "Arrgh, Matey, we be pirates on a quest for frozen booty. We must hurry before someone steals our treasure. Are ya wit' me?" Link said in his best pirate voice.
Ayden's eyes flashed, switching in intensity from a dull sheen to a lighthouse glow. Around the bend, still hidden by a diminishing forest of panic, was a smile waiting for the right moment to erupt. It was an amazing transformation.
Even stranger, Link thought, was how he had effectively pulled Ayden from his own land of imaginary fear into a new, happier land of Link's own design. Link's land held the promise of chocolate-chocolate chunk booty. If only ice cream and pirates could solve all of life's problems.
As two pirates, they climbed the stairs to discover the buried traditional sea game, Tiddlywinks, and celebrated their find with chocolate ice cream as promised.
Though Ayden remained jumpy, occasionally glancing over his shoulder or looking at random walls for no apparent reason, he settled down considerably. Maybe things were going to be okay after all.
14
The Hatch
Link lay in bed that night and stared up into the darkness. Every time he shut his eyes, his head swam with images of squeaky chairs, cruel teasing, and other unspeakable tortures of school, such as grammar and bathrooms with no stall doors.
With a start, he sat up. The hatch. He had totally forgotten about his decision to open the hatch. With a renewed sense of purpose, Link jumped out of bed and fumbled around the floor for a sweatshirt. Finally locating one, he threw it over his head and punched his arms through the sleeves only to tear it off seconds later in disgust. Either he had to stop running in the same thing every day, or laundry needed to become a higher priority. The noxious fumes of armpit odor and sweat had nearly knocked him unconscious.
Repulsed, Link threw the fetid garment back to the floor. He grabbed a long sleeved t-shirt from his dresser and set off to change his world forever.
On his way through the house, Link tried to remain as stealthy as possible to avoid waking up his dad. There was no reason to feel guilty. After all, he wasn't technically sneaking out if he stayed in his own yard. Perhaps he should add rationalization to his list of not-so-superpowers.
Link tiptoed through the maze of living room furniture, trying his best to minimize the inevitable squeaks made by old wooden floors. Carefully, he pried open the back door, one inch at a time. To his relief, the rusty hinges remained silent, permitting a hasty exit without the slightest hint of protest.
Link crept across the tiled porch and wound his way down the path. Suddenly, a flood light spilled over the entire yard as if in search of a prisoner making an attempted jailbreak. The high-watt motion sensor had detected the movement on the path and now framed his silhouette against the light blue paint of the house.
How could he have been so stupid? He had forgotten about the light. He scurried to the side of the house and pressed himself flat against the wall. The last measure was not truly necessary as he had probably cleared the sensor's twenty-foot radius, but he wasn't taking any more chances.
He peered through the dim backdrop of Mrs. Devereaux's flowered curtains with justifiable concern. His father
The few times he'd spoken with Mrs. Devereaux, she'd seemed nice enough, and she appeared to mean well. But, his dad had warned him to steer clear of her whenever possible. He'd told him that he'd overheard some neighbors saying that ever since the Navy had temporarily relocated her husband to a base in Florida, she had made it her mission to know everyone else's business. And after the unwanted attention we'd all received in Pensy, even Link's gregarious father appeared reluctant to give much for the neighbors to gossip about.
Seeing nothing suspicious, Link crept along the wall until he reached the trumpet vine. He pulled the foliage back as he had done before. Then he searched for the handle. With the added camouflage of the night sky, it was nearly impossible. Link tried to visualize where the door had been and pressed his hand against the wall. Nothing. He moved his hand up and down, but it all felt the same.
Frustrated, he decided to return when he had more light. As he stood, he propped his hand against the wall for leverage. That was when he felt the metallic edge of the handle nestle neatly into his palm. His pulse quickened with excitement. Now