A Different Path

Chapter 3 - Being Open

"Are your nightmares of your Dad?" He asked, and I slowly nodded. He then took a deep breath, brushing his hair back. "I guess it's my turn, huh?" He said, and I nodded. 

"Take your time," I smiled kindly, waiting patiently. 

"Well..." He started, looking to the skyline as he thought. "I had a pretty normal life for a while too, and when I was six, my Mom told me I was gonna have a younger sibling," he smiled as he spoke, looking back at me. "I remember being so excited. I didn't even care if it was a boy or girl, I just wanted to have someone to play with. No matter the gender, I was gonna make them learn how to play baseball," he laughed a little, making me laugh as well. His smile quickly dropped however, and he looked down. "My Mom went to the hospital when she started havin' the baby, and I just sat in the waiting room alone, since I wasn't allowed back. It took hours, but my Dad finally showed up from the room, but he didn't look happy." I saw Jack begin to tear up a bit now, which surprised me. "Since I was just six, almost seven, though, I didn't really pick up on it, so I ran up to him and asked if it was a boy or girl, begging to see my Mom. He sat me down slowly and stared at me, and I'll never forget the look in his eyes." He looked at me and tensed up. "Sorry, I should stop," he said, his voice shaky.

"Jack, I'm not going to judge. Look at me," I said, motioning to my foot. "I'm not really in the place to do so," I laughed at myself which made him laugh too, and he took a deep breath again.

"You sure?" He asked, and I nodded. "Well, he had this look in his eyes that was like..." He hesitated, looking as though he was shot back in time to that day. "It looked like he wasn't in the same world I was. His eyes were glazed over and he seemed broken. He stared at me for a few seconds before he just bluntly said, 'she died,'" Jack got out, not looking at me. "My Mom had died while giving birth. Thankfully, my little sister lived, but it was obviously extremely hard on both my Dad and myself." He glanced at me, a single tear falling down his face. "My Dad had to pick up a second job to provide for both of us, and when she was three, my sister got extremely, extremely sick. It was horrifying to watch. She was this little girl who beamed positivity, who was full of energy, but then she just started to fall apart. And she was only three." He stared straight ahead as he talked, seeming as though he was picturing it. "She grew weaker every day, and eventually no longer wanted to play at all. She was the only happiness I had in my life, because after my Mom died, my Dad was never happy again. One morning, I went in to her room to say good morning, but she didn't even look at me. I may have only been ten, but I knew what had happened before I even checked. I ran to my Dad and screamed for him to get up, but he wouldn't. He didn't believe me. I ran to the neighbors and pounded on their door, and when they answered I just screamed 'my sister isn't breathing, please, help me,'" a few more tears fell now, and despite what he was saying, I somehow was able to feel a little happy since I could tell he was fully comfortable at this moment. "The Mom in that house followed me inside while her husband got a doctor, but there wasn't anything they could do. I kept shaking her and begging her to wake up, and I could tell that the adults were heartbroken for me. Eventually my Dad came into the room to see the commotion, and all he did was stand in the doorway and stare, looking like he had just seen a ghost. I yelled for him to help her since I was still in denial, but he just slowly walked out again, leaving the neighbors to care for me. As we waited for a doctor to come and get her body, we, uh..." He trailed off, staring at the ground. "We heard a gunshot from my Dad's room." He finished, looking at me. "Holy shit," he said, wiping his face dry. "That felt so good to get off my chest," he said with a smile, not breaking eye contact.

"Tell me about her," I said with a smile, and his dropped.

"Who?" He asked, raising his brows.

"Your sister, tell me about her," I said, and his smile once again reappeared as he thought about her.

"Her name was Sofie," he began, and I felt my heart flutter when I saw him remember her so fondly. "She looked like me if I was a girl, I swear if she was just a few years older people would've thought we were twins." He continued, unable to stop smiling. "Since my Dad was always busy, I took care of her. I tried to teach her how to read earlier than other kids, I taught her how to play tons of games, but of course she wasn't that good since she was three," he laughed, and I did the same. "But I still tried anyways. Whenever she'd get hurt I was the one to care for her. I was extremely protective of her, so seeing her grow weaker and knowing I couldn't do anything was hard. Somehow, though, through the entire time she was dying, she kept a smile on her face. Maybe it was because she was so young, but she always seemed happy." He looked at me, still smiling.

"I feel a bit honored to be the only one to hear that," I said with a smirk, unable to take my eyes off him.

"I never thought it'd feel that good to get off my chest," he said, his smile growing.

"I'm glad I could help."

We spent the rest of the day sharing stories to one another that others had never heard, and that feeling of honor stuck with me the whole time. Unfortunately, though, it got late, and I was unable to keep myself awake anymore. We reluctantly went to bed, both falling asleep with smiles on our faces.

(word count - 3186)