Secrets Between Us

Chapter 1: Made In America

The number one rule in our household is to see our Momma or Daddy off whenever they are going to leave on one of their "business trips". It is six o'clock in the morning, and Gabriel, Jacqueline, and I are standing in the middle of the living room, right by the front door, watching as Daddy is preparing to go. Still sleepy, cranky and in our pajamas, we internally kick ourselves over the fact that no one else in our neighborhood has to have this kind of interaction three hours before school starts.

Daddy never even hugs or kisses us goodbye. There's just the look in his eyes as he kneels down to our tiny level and becomes brutally honest about what he thinks about each of us, like it's the last time we will see each other. His tone makes me squeeze my yellow teddy bear that I've had since I was one year old tighter in my arms.

At last, he grabs his locked black briefcase and puts on his signature purple bowler hat, and he is halfway out the door. Before he leaves, he looks over his shoulder and says, "I'll be home late again. You kids be in bed by the time I return," and then he just slams the door shut behind him with no hesitation. Not like he is in a huge hurry, but in a way that tells he has something to hide. He usually does.

As soon as Daddy is gone, complete silence overtakes the whole house. I swear it is quiet enough that I can hear a pin drop from the backyard right before Gabriel and Jacqueline begin their typical morning spat, and I am in the middle of it. Literally.

Gabriel is on my left, and Jacqueline is on my right, and their words go in one ear and out the other. I pick up bits and pieces of what they are arguing about, something along the lines of a bet to see whether Daddy or Momma will return home first this time around. And just for the record, Momma has already gone on another trip of her own a few days ago.

To be honest, their bets always go back and forth on who wins, with a few five dollar bills or a candy bar and some bubblegum at stake. And when one of them doesn't get their way, they tend to take their anger out on either the other or me. That's the kind of older siblings they are. They also use me as a scapegoat for their shortcomings. But I think the worst part is how they don't seem to care about how screwed up our family dynamics are.

My vision blurs and I quickly feel tears streaming down my face. If there's one thing I hate the most, it's yelling. It just shows how disappointed one person can be with something else.

Gabriel punches me in the shoulder and calls me a crybaby before storming off in a huff, making a B-line to his room. Jacqueline calls him a knucklehead for going back to bed, knowing he'll be tardy, as usual. She's one to talk since she does the exact same thing.

That's what we are, and it sticks. Knuckleheads forever.