We were spending the night at my grandparents' house again. We'd done that often enough since my mom got sick – lately it seemed we slept there more than we slept at home. Today at dinner when my dad told us we were going, Jesse got up and stalked out of the room. Jeff protested and Jill whined, but all my father could do was apologize helplessly, and promise to make it up to use somehow. I didn't say anything. I was eleven – old enough to understand about things like hospital bills and insurance companies and money. I knew Dad was working extra hours and through nights so often for our own good. I understood. I did, though I wished he'd stop promising to "make it up to us." But my little brother and sister also refused to finish dinner. Dad didn't force them to eat – he seemed too tired. He'd worked through last night, too.

Though I'd lost my appetite, I finished dinner for my dad. It was just soup out of a can, and had been pretty bad even before Dad's announcement. It wasn't his fault he couldn't cook, wasn't his fault he didn't have time to make a real dinner, not his fault he didn't have time for us anymore…I cut off this line of thought.

I got to sit in the front seat for the ten-minute drive to my grandparents'. Normally Jesse would get it, but he shoved himself into the back corner as far from Dad as possible. I thought it was a childish thing to do; it was disappointing to see him act like this. My older brother is my hero.

"Can we at least go and see Mom tonight?" I asked, trying to remain neutral.

"Mom needs her rest. You know that, Jade," Dad said.

"But Mom's always happy to see us," Jill argued. There was no answer.

We got there, and once we were inside Dad thanked his parents for taking care of us again. My grandmother looked at him sternly and told him, "You should be spending time with your children, Gregory."

"I'm doing all I can, Mother," my father replied testily. "Please…" I couldn't hear the rest of the conversation, as my grandfather ushered us into his study to show us his latest magic trick. Grandpa T. actually has good magic tricks, not the corny stuff most grandparents pull to amaze little kids who don't know any better. Jesse and I used to spend half the night awake trying to figure out how he did it. We'd gotten a few, too, I recalled proudly.

Grandpa never shows more than one trick a night, though, and we were soon four bored kids stuck with two old people, just like last night. I love Grandma and Grandpa T. and all, but I hated these nights.

"I'll put on a movie," Jesse said mechanically. "Any requests? Jill? Jeff?"

"Want to play a game instead?" I asked on an impulse. "We could play Pictionary, or…or Trivial Pursuit…"

"Pictionary!" Jill chose quickly. She was only seven, and even our grandparents' kids' version of Trivial Pursuit was mostly too hard for her.

"Okay," Jesse agreed, smiling, and Jeff was only a little reluctant. All four of us were delighted when Grandma and Grandpa both agreed to play as well.

It was a fun game, and we all crawled into our sleeping bags happy that night, though I knew Jeff hadn't done his homework again. Actually I hadn't done mine tonight, either.

I tried to fall asleep quickly, but didn't succeed before Jill started crying, as she always did, whimpering softly into her pillow. Inside, I groaned. Mom had been sick off and on for over two years, and every single night…well, every night we were here anyway (Jill had her own room at home, so I couldn't hear)…every night my little sister cried for Mom's face, for her to come tuck her in, to sing to her. I closed my eyes tightly and clenched my teeth and my fists, and tried to shut out the noise. Jeff covered his head with his pillow. I heard Jesse moving behind me, getting out of his sleeping bag and crawling to Jill's, as usual. I opened my eyes a crack. He knelt next to her, slowly stroking her hair and trying to soothe her to sleep, and after awhile even started quietly singing to her. It was that stupid song from The Little Mermaid, Jill's favorite movie, which we'd all suffered through her playing and singing so many times that we knew all the words. I think even Mom got tired of singing it to her every night. I sucked in my breath abruptly. How much she'd love to sing it to her now!

Jesse was not a bad singer, but since he was thirteen and his voice was changing, he'd sometimes sing way too high or low and totally mess up the song. It was by far the worst rendition I'd ever heard. Mom had told me not to make fun of him; other embarassing changes would start happening to my body soon, but…

I heard a snort of laughter from beneath Jeff's pillow, and I couldn't help joining in. Jesse stopped singing.

"Okay, you guys get out here and sing!" he whispered fiercely into the dark.

Jeff, in a rare jubilant moment, agreed, "Okay!" and leapt up. "But do I have to sing that?"

"Yes," Jill said firmly, though not moving her face from the pillow.

The four of us actually sang the song for awhile, in the dark on the floor of our grandparents' living room. We were quiet, and I don't think Grandma and Grandpa T. even knew we were awake. Eventually Jill fell asleep, and Jeff soon after (he was only a year older than she was). I was thoroughly satisfied. Our mother might have spent most of the past two years in the hospital, our father might abandon us to our grandparents half the time, but we still had each other. We would always stick by each other.

I turned to my older brother, crawling into his sleeping bag next to me, remembering how he so loathed coming here, despite his cheerful attempts to keep the younger kids happy. "It's not so bad when Dad leaves us here," I said, surprised to hear my voice sound defensive instead of persuasive.

For a moment Jesse didn't answer, and I thought, disappointed, that he wasn't going to. Finally he said, "Jade, this was actually a good night. Why do you have to bring Dad up now?" His voice had a funny edge to it.

I wondered whether I should just go to bed now or press on. I decided to press on.

"Why can't you give Dad a break?" I asked tentatively. "He's doing the best he can."

"You really think that, Jade?"

"What? He is!"

Jesse sighed. "Jade, go to bed," he ordered me.

"I'm in bed. What do you mean he's not doing the best he can? What more do you want him to do?"

"Never mind. Just go to sleep."

"But I…Jesse, what's the matter? Why won't you tell me why you're so mad at Dad? I'm old enough to understand."

"Go to sleep."

Sighing exaggeratedly to show my annoyance, I lay down on my pillow and turned away from my brother, scowling in the dark. I was frustrated. I was trying so hard to understand everybody – Dad, Jill, Jeff – but I couldn't figure out why my older brother couldn't take this like an adult.

I tried to sleep. Jesse was in eighth grade, and his school started earlier than mine. When we slept in the same room like this we all had to wake up when the alarm clock went off for him.

I started breathing slowly and deeply, to the same rhythm as Jeff and Jill. My eyelids fell over my eyes, and I almost didn't notice because it was dark anyway. At least Grandma T. would make us a fun breakfast in the morning.

"Jade, Dad has a girlfriend."

What?

I rolled back over and opened my eyes again. "What? What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry, Jade. He does. I'm positive of it. That's why he spends so many nights 'working.' That's why he always sends us over here. We're old enough to take care of ourselves overnight at home. He kicks us out so she can spend the night with him instead!"

"What? But Dad is married to Mom!"

"It's not like he's the first man ever –"

"No! I don't believe you!"

"Keep your voice down, Jade. You said you wanted to know what the problem is. Well, here you go."

"I don't believe you!" I whispered fiercely.

"Her name is Tricia."

"You're lying!"

"Be quiet, Jade!" Jesse raised his own voice a little.

"You're lying," I still accused, but I felt my head start to swim. I sat up. Husbands in newspapers and on TV cheated on their wives, not real people. Not my friends' parents. And certainly not my parents!

Dad loved us! And he loved Mom! So why would he do that? Dad was loyal and honest and hardworking and strong, and, well, okay, not perfect, but so thoroughly…good!

"You don't have to believe me if you'd rather not," Jesse said in a slightly snide tone. "But you should know the truth before you enlist as his great defender."

"How come you're saying this stuff?" I moaned. "Why are you making up lies about Dad?"

"I wish I were making it up, Jade, but I'm not! I shouldn't have told you. I'm sorry it's too much for you to take."

"NO! It's not TRUE!"

"I can prove it to you!"

Jill stirred in her sleep. We both listened tentatively for a few seconds, but no one seemed to have woken at our raised voices. "How can you prove it to me?" I asked defiantly, determined to show my brother he was wrong. But, though I denied it to myself, I was a tiny bit scared.

"We can go home and see."

"How could we do that?"

"We could walk home."

"Walk home? You mean now? In the middle of the night?"

"I'll do it to find out once and for all."

The idea was ridiculous. I wasn't even sure I knew the way home from here in the daytime. We'd certainly never walked it before. And if it took ten minutes to drive, how long did that mean it would take to walk?

"I don't want to, Jesse."

"You don't have to. But I'm going to do it. Right now." I heard him crawl out of his sleeping bag, and closed my eyes as he turned on the small table lamp, trying to shut out the light, shut out what he'd just told me, shut out what he now wanted me to do. When I finally dared crack open one eye, my brother had all of his clothes on except his shoes. I opened the other eye, sat up, and sighed. "I'll come."

I already told you Jesse's my hero, or maybe it was just some little-sister complex, but if he was going to walk across our town in the middle of the night, I wanted to be there, too. I got up and pulled on the socks, jeans, and t-shirt I'd brought to wear to school tomorrow. I glanced at the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock Jesse had brought – it was 10:41. Somehow the room seemed different with only the one tiny light on. Smaller, neater, stranger. I shivered as I put on my jacket. It was mid-November, and it was going to be a long, cold trip.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked Jesse one more time before we left.

"Yeah. I'm sure," he nodded, and I was reassured by his firmness. I trusted him.

We tiptoed over Jeff and Jill, still asleep and completely unaware of what was going on around them. I hoped neither of them would wake in the night and realize that we weren't there. The front door seemed to creak and groan louder than ever, but I knew it was just my imagination and the quiet. A violent shudder ran through my frame as we stepped outside, though it wasn't that cold considering the time of year. We closed the door and checked to make sure it wasn't locked, and Jesse simply started walking down the driveway, and I followed. My grandparents' neighborhood had streetlights, so it wasn't too dark. Our neighborhood didn't have streetlights, though. We didn't speak much except when the occasional car would pass and we'd hide. Jesse was afraid it might be police, who'd stop kids from walking around the town at night.

I shivered constantly, especially when the wind blew. And I shuddered with fear for what lay ahead, both before and after we reached our home. I didn't really believe what Jesse had told me. It was impossible. But why would Jesse lie to me? He never had before, not about anything important, anyway. Maybe he wasn't lying; maybe he was just wrong. That could be it. Though I couldn't think of many times my brother had been wrong, either.

For the moment I preferred to consider him infallible – as long as he knew this was a good idea, I felt safe. Now I understand how much easier it is to be the younger sibling in situations like this, for in actuality Jesse was probably no more sure of himself out there than I was of myself, but he had no one to protect him. I'm glad I didn't realize this that night, though.

We walked up and down the hills of well-known streets made unfamiliar by the darkness and the silence. There weren't even any bug noises, only the wind rustling the trees around. I'd never before realized how worn the streets of our town were, how cracked and crumbling. Nor had I realized how tall the grass framing the roads was – it was a real pain to walk through. My heart raced whenever a car drove by, seemingly at obscenely fast speeds.

I was dead tired. It was probably midnight by now, I thought, and decided I had the energy to check my watch. It was only 11:42.

We passed the last streetlight. Most of our town is without them – it's not a very big place. Luckily there was a full moon out. Even with the light, we could barely see enough to stay on the road. Jesse took off his jacket to expose his white t-shirt, any source of reflection should a car come by now being useful. I would have taken mine off, too, but I was too cold. The road that led to our dead end street was narrow and winding. We stayed as close to the edge as possible. At least the speed limit here was lower, so it didn't take us as long to reach the end as I'd anticipated considering the time we'd spent walking so far. And at least the road wasn't busy.

We crossed the street and turned down our own short road. I checked my watch. 11:58. We'd be getting home at right about midnight. The walk up our road wasn't so bad as the rest of the trip, since we'd walked from the bus stop to our house nearly every day since kindergarten.

We reached our driveway. All the lights were off in the house, so I tried to convince myself that that meant I was right – Dad wasn't home; he was working through the night. But when I saw his car there, in the garage, like any normal night, I knew it meant trouble. I swallowed. The car broke down and he had to take a bus; the power went out at work so he came home early, I tried to rationalize what I saw to myself. I looked up at my brother.

"See?" he whispered to me, but his voice was shaky instead of cold, and he didn't sound happy about being right.

"That's not proof," I insisted. "It doesn't prove anything."

"Okay. Then let's go in."

I felt like a trespasser in my own front yard, like a burglar skulking in the night. Years later I learned that the technical definition of a burglar is simply someone who breaks and enters unknown, not someone who breaks in and steals things. So I guess my brother and I were burglars that night. We crept around to the back of our house, which seemed a stony, indifferent mountain, and entered through the basement door that was always open – the lock hadn't worked for as long as I could remember.

The door CREEEEE-AAKED, loud, low, whining, as we opened it. I froze. We both did. I'd never really paid attention to the fact that the door creaked before, though it always had. It's not something you notice much during normal life. Jesse half-smiled at me a little sheepishly. I didn't smile back. I just pushed inside – almost as if the house were drawing me in. My brother followed behind me, quietly reclosing the creaky door.

Halfway through the dark basement I stopped. My heart for some reason had started to pound and my head to swim, and I thought I heard noises but had no idea if they were real or just in my head. After being out in the cold for so long, the house felt stiflingly hot. I wanted to cry. I wanted to run back outside and back to my grandparents' house and pretend I'd never come. I felt like a traitor to my father to even need proof that he wouldn't commit the crime of which his eldest son was accusing him.

"Are you okay, Jade?" Jesse asked when I stopped.

I bit my lip and nodded, though he couldn't see me. I didn't want to try to speak. I started walking again, slowly, my hands outstretched in front of me to try to prevent myself from bumping into anything and making noise. Did blind people walk with their hands out in front of them? I didn't think so, though I didn't know for sure. Maybe I could ask Grandma T. tomorrow.

"Let me go first," Jesse quietly whispered. For a second I was hurt that my brother didn't trust me to lead, but only for a second. After all, I trusted him more than I trusted myself, too. I wanted to grab the back of Jesse's t-shirt and hang on so I could follow him, like a four-year-old kid. By the time we reached the stairs that was what I was doing, though I was disgusted with myself. The stairs creaked as we climbed them, but not as much as the door had. Time seemed to be slowing down, maybe because my heart was beating so fast. The door out of the basement creaked, too (was every door in the world creaky?), but that wasn't the sound I cared about. For, as Jesse opened the door I heard noises, from the direction of the bedrooms, and I knew they were real.

No, no, still not proof! my brain tried to argue. No, this is wrong, wrong, WRONG! I closed my eyes and shook my head in denial.

I didn't want to go any farther. This was all the proof I wanted. Disputable proof, uncertain proof. In the morning I could convince myself it had all been a dream. It was all a dream. I was dreaming right now…

I opened my eyes when I heard Jesse move. He was moving toward the bedrooms. Through the living room, toward my parents' bedroom at the end of the hallway. Slowly, shaking, I followed. My heart was fighting NO! NO! the whole way, but I followed anyway. I don't even know why.

Before entering the bedroom I dropped down on my hand and knees, mostly just because I was shaking so much. Jesse, looking back at me, decided that was a good idea and did the same. He entered the room and began crawling around to one side of the bed, and I crawled around to the other.

There was plenty of movement in the bed, accompanied by short bursts of feminine laughter. My first instinct was that it was my mom's laughter; honest it was. But that only lasted a second. I heard my dad's voice, too, replying to the other. I knew it was my dad's though it didn't sound like him at all – it was a deep, guttural, grunting voice, not saying actual words, not even making human noises! I had heard of people having sex like animals before, but…NO! NOT DAD!

I reached the center of the side of the bed and raised myself up on my knees, quiet as possible. Between my eyes having adjusted to the darkness and the faint moonlight streaking through the window, I could see clearly. I could see my father's body – his strong back, his brown hair – entangled with that of a foreign woman. I wondered why I didn't look away; I was just frozen there. His mouth crushed hers and her scraggly dirty blond hair matted over their faces as they rolled around under the covers. Jesse was across from me, watching them, frozen exactly as I was. He didn't even look angry.

I was kneeling three feet away from them. I could have reached out and touched them. I wanted to reach out and slap them. I wanted to scream at them and pound my dad and tell him I could see what he was doing! I wanted Jesse to, too. He was closer to Dad than I was. The girl was closer to me. I felt like throwing up. I pictured myself throwing up all over both of them, letting them know that that's what they deserved, that's what they'd earned! I didn't move. Jesse was staring at me from across the bed, shaking his head ever so slightly and slowly raising a finger to his lips. I nodded and remained perfectly still and silent. I barely dared to breathe.

Though I couldn't stand to watch I didn't want to stop. Now I understand the reason why – if I had reached out and touched them or slapped them or screamed or thrown up, I would have kept myself clean of the evil in front of me. I would have held onto innocence. But I didn't move, I just stared – at them in the bed and at my older brother, warning me to keep silent. I didn't move, and because I didn't, because I let it continue happening, because I now kept a secret from my father – that I knew what he was keeping secret from all of us – I became as much a part of his sin as he was. I lost my own virginity, and turned as twisted and wrong as the two in the bed. In short, at that moment in that room, my childhood expired and I became an adult.

Of course, I didn't realize any of this then, but if I had I think my actions would have been the same, if simply out of loyalty to my brother. What does that say about human nature? And I don't blame Jesse for the loss of my innocence. It was my own choice, every second. He was the one who showed me the truth.

Jesse dropped back down onto his hands, so I did the same, finally ending the freak show. As I lost sight of my dad and the woman, I was suddenly hit by an overwhelming wave of panic, accompanied by confusion like I'd never felt before. I think this was my childhood innocence abandoning me to the real world. I crawled out of that room as fast as I could without making noise, and Jesse followed a second behind. Once in the hallway I stood up. I wanted to run. Finally that's what I did, on my tiptoes and as quietly as possible, but still running. I hadn't even reached the basement door when I began to scream. The instant I started or maybe even before, Jesse clamped his hand over my mouth, so what was audible was a strange, animal-sounding moan. I wonder if my dad ever figured out what made that sound that night. If he did he never said anything about it.

We moved clumsily as one, Jesse's hand still over my face and me still trying to scream, making way too much noise as we rushed back down the stairs. I didn't care. Let Jesse worry about the noise. I didn't care!

The outdoor air felt so good against my face, felt so exactly-the-same-as-before that I almost believed for a second that I could pretend I hadn't seen anything. I wanted to run. To run screaming. But my brother still held me. I'd never appreciated how strong he was before – sure he'd always beaten me at sports, but that was just because he was bigger and older. I'd never realized his strength. I struggled against him to the front yard, where the half-formed thought struck me that if I ceased trying to scream he might let me go. So I did, and forgot to breathe for a minute as well. Jesse released me, and my legs took off. I ran, knowing my brother was following me and secretly glad for it, though I gave no sign that I cared. Soon Jesse caught up with me, since he's faster as well as stronger. I think I ran the fastest I'd ever run that night, giving no regard to the fact that this road was dangerous to run on even in the daytime, and Jesse hadn't had time to remove his jacket again. I wanted to run away from my father, from what I'd just seen, but really I wanted to run away from what I'd just become, and that's useless. No matter how fast or how far you go you can't escape your disgusting, cowardly self.

I rounded a curve and was confronted by two massive, speeding, blaring headlights. Without thought I threw myself onto the ground, to the side, into the tall grass. I landed on my knee and elbow and rolled down a small hill, scraping against rocks and prickers and the ground. It hurt a lot. I could feel myself bleeding, and feel the mud I was lying in stinging in fresh scratches on my hands and face and on my back where my shirt had gone up. The wind had been knocked out of me and I tried to gasp for breath, but I couldn't even breathe and for a second, I honestly wished I could just die! That would be easiest. Then I felt Jesse's arms gripping me around the shoulders, and felt his own shudders and heard his own sobs, and I finally started to scream, until my voice gave out and I finally started to cry.

It was starting already, I realized as we turned back into my grandparents' driveway. Jesse was taking care of me. He would have to from now on; I wouldn't let Dad take care of me anymore. Wouldn't even let him touch me. Jesse was only thirteen. I could help him take care of Jeff and Jill, though of course we wouldn't tell them what we'd done tonight.

It was a little after four a.m. when we finally got back. Jesse opened the door quietly, but we found the light in the kitchen on. So our grandparents were awake and knew we were missing. I groaned under my breath. The last thing I needed now was some punishment for worrying them. They couldn't do anything to us that was worse than what we'd just seen. We didn't need any extra punishment.

My grandparents heard the door open and rushed over. Grandma was in her bathrobe and slippers, Grandpa in cloth pants and a t-shirt with too many holes to count. They both looked tired and haggard, but they ran up and embraced us anyway, Grandma hugging me; Grandpa, Jesse. I craned my neck to see into the living room, and saw that my younger brother and sister were still asleep in their sleeping bags.

"Where on Earth did you kids go?" Grandma T. asked, backing up from me. "I just got up to check on you children, and you were gone! Your grandfather and I searched the whole house for you – we were ready to call the police!"

"Midnight basketball," Jesse explained. "We play every Tuesday night. We're sorry we scared you."

My grandmother looked half-skeptical, half-exasperated. I wondered if she believed our lie. "Well, whatever you did," she said, "you sure managed to get yourselves dirty. Especially you, Jade." She leaned close to examine the scrapes on my face, then took each of my scratched, swollen hands and looked at them. Her breath smelled bad. "How on Earth did you do this to yourself?"

I wouldn't have thought I could cry anymore, but I felt my tear glands threaten. I controlled myself quickly, looking to my brother for strength.

At this point the difference between parents and grandparents became clear. Instead of yelling at us and grounding us and finding some unpleasant punishment as my parents would have done, my grandfather simply turned on the radio (softly so as not to wake my brother and sister) and my grandmother sat us down at the round kitchen table and began heating water to make tea for herself, coffee for Grandpa, and hot chocolate for me and Jesse. As we waited for the water, Grandpa listened to the radio (an oldies station that played mainly news and weather reports at this hour) as if the weather were the most fascinating thing in the world. He looked very tired and old. Grandma, too. Though I didn't really want one, on some impulse I asked for a magic trick, but Grandpa shook his head, a little sadly, it seemed. I wondered if Grandpa T. would ever run out of magic tricks. I hoped he never would.

The water finished, and Grandma spooned instant coffee into a mug for Grandpa, and emptied hot chocolate packets into mugs for us. She poured the water and took a bag of miniature marshmallows out of the cupboard. I dutifully smiled, though it seemed pointless now to get excited about marshmallows. She added a handful of marshmallows to each mug of chocolate, and brought them over. A song finally came on the radio, as I took my first sip. The warmth felt good inside me, I had to admit, after being out in the cold for so long. I realized I was extremely tired. I listened to the words of the chorus of the song. Bye, bye Miss American Pie, drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry…the words didn't make any sense. Most old songs I'd heard didn't really make sense. But why did I feel I understood something anyway? I stirred my spoon around in my hot chocolate and even with all that had just happened I smiled, almost laughed, as I watched the marshmallows swim.

-Jade Danielle Toraster
12/3/99

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