Keep You From Harm Read Free

honesty. I watch him walk toward a ratty looking couch that’s pushed against the wall. He sits down, folding his long legs and clasping his hands together. “I live in Fort Upton, New York with my wife and my three-year-old daughter,” he tells me.
    I stand in the middle of the room and continue to take him in. When I woke up this morning, a part of me was clinging to the hope that this was all a mistake. My mother would never keep something this big from me. But looking at him now, my throat grows tight. This is undoubtedly my brother, and by the way he reacted to my mean-spirited comment, it seems that even in her absence, she fucked him up, too.
    “We’re setting up a room for you in our basement. It’s been finished. It’s carpeted and heated. It’s my daughter’s playroom. But we can turn it into a nice bedroom for you.” He’s watching me for my reaction.
    “Why are you doing this?” I ask.
    He takes a deep breath and exhales loudly. “Because you’re my sister. Because I didn’t even know I had a sister until two years ago when I found out our mother was a drug addict who had been neglecting you.”
    I blink at him blandly, purposely not reacting to his words, but not liking his blunt description of my mother, despite its truth.
    “Since then, I’ve wanted to meet you. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
    “You wanted custody of me,” I clarify.
    He nods. “Yes, if you weren’t being properly cared for I wanted to become your guardian. I understand you just learned of that yesterday.”
    “Why do you think Mom never mentioned you?”
    He watches me for a moment before answering. “I honestly have no idea. The last time I saw her I was six-years-old. You knew her much better than I did.”
    His words are spoken calmly now, like he has no feelings about his abandonment. He’s right though. I did know my mother well or at least I thought I did. She was a weak person. Generally, when I wondered why my mother did or didn’t do something, the answer was because it’s hard . I can’t help but wonder why walking away from her son wasn’t too hard.
    “I’d like us to leave this afternoon.”
    I focus on him again.
    “I’ve got your plane ticket and your things. My wife is looking into getting you enrolled in the high school.”
    I start to feel panicky again. “But I have to bury her. There has to be a funeral.”
    He nods. “I’ve already arranged it with a local funeral home. I’m taking care of her burial, but we can’t stay to plan the funeral. I have to get back. We can have a ceremony once we’re in Fort Upton if you like.”
    “What did you arrange?”
    “She’ll be buried in San Marcos Cemetery just outside of town. I ordered the casket and the headstone.”
    I stare at him wondering how much that must have cost. After the way she walked out on him, I can hardly believe that he’s done this so quickly and willingly. I feel the gathering tears burning my eyes. I never could have paid for any of this. “Thank you,” I whisper.
    His expression turns sympathetic, and I see another emotion that resembles compassion passing over his features.
    I know I need to change the subject before I lose it in front of him. “Have you arranged to have my school records transferred?” I ask. “I have to be in the same level classes I’m enrolled in now.”
    To my surprise, he nearly smiles as he shakes his head. “It’s been less than forty-eight hours. I haven’t gotten to that yet.”
    I nod and start listing what needs to be done. “I’m in all accelerated and advanced placement classes. The colleges I’ve applied to will be making their decisions soon and I need to be in those same classes at my new school to maintain my ranking.” I glance up and see him smirking.
    “I take it you’re a good student,” he says.
    “Yes,” I inform him. Generally, with my background, that comes as a surprise to people.
    He sobers at my seriousness. I’m as serious as a heart attack when