Jo woke on the morning of his 23 birthday to the sound of yelling.
It took him a moment to realize the string of curses weren't directed at him. Barely 6 AM and the couple in the next apartment over were already going at it. He groaned and debated sleeping in, finally deciding to get a jump on the day instead.
The morning went smoothly. The boys were obedient and kept their bickering to a minimum. No one commented on his missing breakfast, and everyone seemed in a decently cheerful mood. A full 15 minutes ahead of schedule, they were ready to walk out the door, when Jaime whispered in Jo's ear.
"Happy birthday, Jo."
Jo stiffened and straightened up, eyes glazing over. His breathing began to quicken and though he fought it, the flashback hit him with the force of an interstate semi.
"Happy birthday, Jo," his father whispered in his ear.
Jo stared at the colorfully wrapped box in front of him, praying it would disappear, that he would disappear. The world around him carried on as if nothing was happening. A 4-year-old Drew was playing on the floor with Sam, who was starting to attempt his first wobbly steps. Newborn Jaime was asleep in the boys' room. But Jo sat stock still at the kitchen table, trying to remember to breathe.
"Open it, boy!" his father shouted, making Jo flinch in his chair. "You only turn 14 once. It's time for a grown up gift."
Jo took hold of the box and tentatively removed the paper, half expecting the box to explode in his hands. Lifting the lid, his breath caught and he froze.
His father's low chuckle echoed in his ears as the coiled, snake-like rawhide stared back at him.
"It's called a bull whip. I looked at horse whips and riding crops, but this one seemed to do the most damage."
He smiled with the warmth of an eel.
"Boy, you and me are gonna have lots of fun with this. In fact, why don't we go give it a try right now, huh?"
His father pushed back from his chair and reached for the box, but Jo was on his feet just as fast. The two stared at each other for a second.
"Not in front of them," came Jo's quivering voice.
"That's not part of our deal."
"Please."
His father's face took on a scowl, then split into a bright smile.
"Well, since it's your birthday..."
It was all Jo needed. He hurried to his brothers, scooping the two of them up and depositing them in their room, next to the sleeping baby. Confused eyes gazed up at him.
Pushing down the knot in his gut, he stroked their smooth cheeks.
"I need you two to stay here for me, okay?"
"But why..." Drew began to whine.
"Buddy, this is important. I need to you do what I say. Pretend it's a game, okay? First one to come out loses."
"Like when dad was angry and we haveded to play hide and seek?"
Jo forced a smile.
"Just like that, buddy. Be very quiet, and don't come out, no matter what you hear."
The walk back to his fate was a blur as his mind scrambled to seek refuge outside the subjugated confines of his body. Before the disassociation could complete, Drew's face shot through his brain, unbidden. Then Sam. Jaime.
He couldn't check out. Not when they were only walls away.
Crack!
It was the fourth strike before his mind was fully back to his dismal reality. The white hot pain took his breath away and already he could feel the trickle of blood down his back. He bit down on his lower lip as the blows continued, refusing to cry out. Soon, breathing became difficult and his vision became blurry, but still he made no sound. He couldn't let the little ones hear. But he couldn't pass out either. He couldn't...
"Breathe."
Jo sucked in a gulp of cool air. His clouded vision began to clear ever so slightly.
"Good job. Just breathe. In and out. There you go."
The spots in his eyes once again reassembled into five worried faces. He focused on them, his one link to reality.
Directly in front of him, Drew kneeled with hands out, palms open.
"It's okay. You're safe."
"Okay." He gasped out. "Okay. I'm okay."
The boys let out a small, collective breath. Tension still radiated from each, none knowing what to do now. After a few pregnant seconds, Adam tentatively crawled into Jo's lap. Flinching at first contact, Jo recovered and scooped the youngest boy into his arms, rocking him back and forth. Only then did he realize he was sitting with his back pressed into a corner wall.
One by one, the boys cuddled into him and they sat in silence as Jo rocked Adam back and forth. Back and forth. No one knew who the rocking was for. No one cared. No one spoke.
They simply sat.
————
"You just had to. Even though I told you multiple times not to."
"I didn't know that would happen!"
"Why didn't you just trust me?
"You don't know everything!"
"I know way more than you when it comes to that!"
"I was there too, you know!"
"Oh please, you barely remember—"
Drew halted mid-sentence, looking sheepishly at Jo who stood quietly in the doorway to the bathroom.
"You boys are supposed to be brushing your teeth, not auditioning for the debate team."
Neither Drew nor Jaime seemed to find humor in Jo's quip, their faces an even mix of embarrassment and indignation. Jo sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Drew, can I talk to Jaime alone, please?"
Closing the bathroom door behind Drew's retreating figure, Jo sat on the closed toilet seat and tilted Jaime's face up to meet his eyes.
"Listen to me, Jaime. None of this morning was your fault."
Jaime's eyes skirted away.
"No, look at me. It wasn't your fault. My brain's just screwed up. Things that wouldn't bother a normal person set me off. It's not you, okay? It's me. You didn't do anything wrong."
"Drew told me not to. He told me what would happen. I just thought...maybe..."
"That I'd changed?"
"Kinda, yeah. I guess."
"I wish I had. Maybe someday I will. I wish... But anyway, it wasn't your fault. You got that?"
"I guess."
"Okay."
"Jo?"
"Yeah, kiddo?"
"I do remember."
Jo paused for a moment, studying Jaime's face. Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath.
"I know kiddo. And I wish more than anything that you didn't."
Jo pulled Jaime in and hugged him tightly, kissing the top of his head. The guilt felt suffocating. If he had better hidden the abuse, if he had been stronger, maybe his boys would be free of these memories that plagued them. Jaime had been four when they left and yet remembered far too much of their life before. What more did the older boys carry?
The weight of his conscience combined with the ever present weariness, and suddenly Jo could think of nothing but sleep. He rushed the boys through bedtime, cleaned the kitchen, checked over homework, and finally crawled under the thin sheets of his bed. As he drifted off, the words of Sammy's Shakespeare poem ran through his head.
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.