• PROLOUGE
    I knew something was wrong. Mom’s face, pale, and daddy’s face, contorted in agony, kept popping up in my head. The other kids raced around me, joyous and childlike. Why me? Why? I’m the only two year old like this. Everyone else is oblivious to feelings. I’m not. Daddy always calls me his Genius Girl. But I can’t express what I’m feeling. My mouth won’t say what I’m feeling. (I never could before, but it was never a big deal before.) I keep close to my cubby.
    The intercom blared, “Melissa, get you things from your cubby, then come to the office. Your dad is here to pick you up.” I was there as soon as it said Melissa. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no! This cannot be happening.
    “Melissa, please come here.” His voice wobbled. I walked, looking at the floor. I stopped a foot from his brown work boots. This has to be terrible. First, he never came for me early, and he never took off from work. Also, he never, EVER went anywhere in his work clothes.
    “Melissa Ann Nicole Sprouse, look at me.” This time his voice did not waver.
    I looked into his eyes, blurred with tears.
    “Its mommy, isn’t it? She died, like the doctor said she would.”
    “Yes, Mellie,” he whispered in my ear, “its mommy. But you’re strong, and we can get through this. I’ll be the best daddy forever and ever. We’ll get through this, you’ll see.” It sounded more like he was convincing himself than me. My heart fluttered when he used my nickname. Then I remembered something about mommy.
    In the way only a two year old could, I asked, “Daddy, what about the baby?”
    His voice was barely a whisper as he choked out, “The doctors don’t think she’ll make it.”









    The Dream
    “Hush, hush, Linda. It’s time for bed. I’ll leave the nightlight on.”
    “Ok, Mellie. But if I get scared, I can come in your room, right?” Linda asked.
    “Yes baby girl. Love you, good night.” I gave her a peck on the cheek. In some ways, Linda feels like a daughter to me. I mean, I always take care of Linda all the time. Our relationship is strange—almost like a mother-daughter bonding, me being the caretaker and her being the one in need.
    I guess the way dad acts is affecting us. He goes into his room for long periods of time and doesn’t come out. He won’t have either of us bother him for any reason. If we peek in there, his face is a deep scarlet, tears run off his cheeks and pool on the desk, and his eyes are blank. Linda is eight and still sleeps with her nightlight on because she’s afraid of the dark. She wakes in the night screaming from her nightmares. She always screams my name, and I come, but she refuses to tell me about them. She says they’ll scare me. Linda is terrified of being left alone. I have to be grown up and give up my childhood to take care of her. I help her with homework, cook dinner when dad forgets, make grocery lists, and take care of Linda, just like mom took care of me.
    I cross the hallway to my room, go in, and close the door swiftly behind me. My overhead sun flicks on, and I grab my book bag from the floor. I dig in it until I find my book and hang my book bag neatly on its hook. I jump in bed and toss the book to the floor to make it look like I fell asleep reading. I close my eyes and tense my body, all ready to go to sleep. The nightmares begin.
    I’m on a crowded sidewalk full of cheering people. I’m tense and waiting for I don’t know what. All I know is I can’t shake the feeling that something is horribly wrong. Cheers halt; the parade has started. Terror reigns and I shiver uncontrollably. A float finally comes into my view. I recognize a face waving to the people. Don’t look this way, don’t see me, oh please don’t look over here. But of course he turns his head and sees me. He grins, and I get a glimpse into his mind. I turn and run until I find an empty street. My knees hit the cold hard pavement and I heave my breakfast onto the pavement.
    My eyes open to the surreal bright room around me. My body flies into a sitting position and I lock my arms around my knees. My hair is matted to my face with sweat and after few minutes I get up quietly and pad down the hall quietly to the bathroom. I turn on the cold water and douse my face with it. My hands flatten against the cold white porcelain of the sink.
    “Ok, I’m awake,” I whisper to myself.
    Slowly, I walk back down the hall. I put my hand on the doorknob to go in my room, but I stop. Two minutes later, I hear it. My sister beginning to whimper, and if I don’t go in now, she’ll begin her bloodcurdling scream that can wrench my dad from his dead sleep.
    I sigh. Another long night. I burst through Linda’s door to see her fly into the same protective position I woke up in. She claws at her scalp with her nails.
    “Linda, I’m here now. Don’t hurt yourself. You can’t, because I need you too much.” I recite the normal things I say to calm her down. She relaxes a fraction of an inch. I pull back her comforter and put my arm around her back and under her arm.
    “Follow me baby girl,” I chant. She struggles to get to her feet and she starts to collapse. For a second I didn’t think I could hold her up, but she wobbled and then regained her strength. I lead her to the bathroom and help her splash cool water on her paralyzed face. She doesn’t respond as the water gets warmer and warmer.
    “Come on, tell me what’s wrong. What’d you see? It’s all right, you can tell me.” I say. She looks up at my scared face. I almost fall when I she looks up at me. Her eyes, beautiful blue as always, are blank. Nothing. No fear, no pain, nothing at all. Her nightmare must have been really bad; she never got this way about them.
    I open the hot and cold taps up into the tub. I strip her down and help her get in. When she’s submersed up to her neck, I cut the water off. I perch on the closed toilet, watching her, but careful not to look into her eyes.
    “Stay there!” I command as she tries to get out. She whimpers. I fall and my eyes flash over hers. I fight back a smile when her eyes portray terror. Finally, her eyes aren’t showing the blankness and lifelessness of someone who’s in a coma. I stand back up and hold out my hand. She pulls the plug and the water whooshes down the drain. Linda steps out and dries off with a towel, shaking. I turn towards the door, and she looks at me questioningly.
    “Just a sec, stay there. I’ll get your clothes and come right back,” I promised. I don’t bother to turn her light on as I bound into her room. I know the layout of the room by heart. I open her dresser drawers and grab the first things my fingers come across. I run back into the bathroom and catch Linda wiping tears away. I throw the clothes toward her, but she misses and bends down to pick them up.
    “Linda, get dressed and then do something quietly in your room. Don’t wake daddy up.” We both knew neither of us were getting back to sleep.
    She looked at me with puppy dog eyes.
    “Mellie, can I come in your room? I’m scared.” She asked, and admitted the truth, knowing that the truth would get me. I half smiled, but it was a friendly smile, not a happy smile.
    “Sure, but I gotta get some homework done. If you’ve got any, bring it an’ I’ll help you with it.” I gave in.

    (Unfinished, unedited, more to come...)