The Family Origin

Chapter One: JOSEPH POV

"The city is a waste," I said without turning around to face him.

"This farm is a waste," Bram said.

"What's so good about the city?"

"There is nothing here. I don't want to spend the rest of my life being poor on this godforsaken farm. At least there are opportunities in New York."

I slammed my glass down on the counter and was amazed that it did not shatter. I gripped the counter's edge until my knuckles were white. Squeezing my eyes shut, I focused on my breathing to try and control my anger. It was a trick Mother had taught me as a child. Clara would come down if she heard me screaming, and I did not need her to get involved in this fight.

"New York?" I asked. "You're going that far north?"

Another moment of silence passed as Bram tried to think of an answer. I turned to see his head was buried in his hands. He looked so pathetic. Was he even trying to explain himself?

"Don't be so weak," I said. "Tell me the truth: are you moving to New York?"

"Yes," he said.

"What is wrong with you?" I asked. "How could you abandon your family like this?"

"This isn't abandonment," he said.

"You will never see your family again."

"I have my own family."

Mother's voice reminding me to keep breathing was on repeat in my mind. Bram grabbed fistfuls of his hair as he shook his head. I watched as he trembled in Father's chair. It was a further disgrace to our Father for him to act so weak there.

"Get up," I said. Bram raised his head, and his eyes were glassy with tears. Was he actually going to cry? "Get out of Dad's spot. You should not be sitting there."

Bram muttered a curse as he ran a hand down his face. He remained incapable of looking at me as he stood. My hands were clenched into fists at my sides.

"I am leaving Monday," Bram said. "Don't bother stopping by the house. This can be our goodbye."

My nostrils flared as Bram finally gained the courage to look in my direction. He opened his mouth to speak but struggled to find the words. His skin was pale and beads of sweat were rolling down his temple. I furrowed my brows, deepening my scowl.

"Goodbye," he said. Fear caused his voice to crack. He cleared his throat to try and re-attempt to look brave. "Dad would have approved of my choice."

"Change your name," I said. "Dad believed in family. You are no longer a Wilcox."

Bram lowered his gaze back to the floor. He did not say a word as he rushed out of the home and slammed the front door. The silence returned, and I could hear the floor creak under Clara's feet upstairs. How much did she hear? These walls were paper-thin.

I turned and braced myself against the counter. My arms were stretched out, and I leaned forward. The muscles in my back screamed in pain from the built-up tension. Focusing on my breathing was useless. After a few more drinks, my anger would not be hidden behind a veil.

My only brother left, and he was not coming back. We buried our Father days ago, and now I lost even more of my family. It was all disappearing. My chest tightened as the weight of my rage made it impossible to breathe. How can I focus on my breathing if I can't even gather air into my lungs? My body trembled from my temper flowing through my veins. A string of curse words left my mouth.

I grabbed my empty glass off the counter and whipped it across the kitchen. It crashed into the cupboard, and the shattered pieces rained onto the floor. Clara would have heard this, but she knew better than to come downstairs right now.

The hinges of the back door creaked as Miles walked into the kitchen. Bram's betrayal made me forget that Miles was outside. He spent every evening it was not snowing around the fire pit. The smell of smoke clung to his clothes. He glanced at the shards of glass as I grabbed another cup from the shelf and poured more whiskey. It was a shame I only had half a bottle left.

"Your uncle is gone," I said. "It will just be you and me on the farm for now."

"Lucky me," Miles muttered.

I glared over my shoulder. He did not crumple under my stare like Bram. At least my son had a spine, unlike my brother. He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched me drain another glass.

"You're never inside this early," I said. My words were starting to slur.

"I heard yelling and a crash," he said. "I know Mom is in here with you."

I rolled my eyes as I poured another glass.

"She is fine," I said.

"What happened to Uncle Bram?" he asked.

"He is dead to us. If he wants to be some big shot in the city and forget about us..." I stuttered as I tried to find the words. The alcohol was already causing my head to spin. "I took care of him for almost forty years. He could care less about us. Family means nothing to him."

Miles watched me with his usual blank stare. He was impossible to read. Would he leave this family too? It would be the end if I lost my only remaining child.

"Remember what is important," I said before finishing my final glass of whiskey. "Family comes first. We are all that matters."

Miles did not move or say a word. His arms remained crossed over his chest as he watched me storm out of the kitchen. I held onto the banister of the stairs to stop my dizzying head from tripping on the stairs. The bedroom door was open ajar, and I nudged it wider with my foot.

Clara was lying in bed. She was curled on her side and staring at the door, waiting for me to come upstairs. The oil lamp cast shadows across her face in the dark room. Her lips were pressed into a pout, and her eyes were glassy with tears. I closed the door before sitting on the edge of the bed. Being closer, I saw that her eyes were rimmed red. She sniffled to prevent her from sobbing. She knew that I hated when she cried.

"It's just us now," she said. It was not a question. She heard every word.

I sighed and nodded. There was no need to repeat any of the fight.

"It's just the three of us now," I said.

"What are we going to do?" she asked. "We're getting older. We have already lost two children. One day it will just be Miles here alone."

"He will have his own family soon."

Clara's cold fingers wrapped around my wrist. She shook her head.

"Miles will never find a wife," she said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You know he has always been," she paused as she tried to think of a word. "Different."

"There is nothing wrong with him."

"He never got along with any of the children at church. They're still blaming him for the fire. They haven't let us return since they rebuilt a few years ago. Where will he find someone?"

I closed my eyes and returned to focusing on my breathing.

"He will find a girl," I said.

"Joe-" she started.

I pulled out of her grasp and held my hand to silence her. She bit down on her lip.

"Not another word," I said. "I'm tired of talking about this. Let's get some sleep."

She watched me as I changed my clothes before extinguishing the light. My brain was heavy with the memories of my family.

What was I going to do?