We Are the Ants(23)

It seemed pointless to even consider it. Pointless to put in the effort to get to know him when the world was going to end. Except, I could imagine him sitting between Mom and Nana, kicking me under the table as my brother unleashed his most embarrassing stories about me. I could picture Diego sitting where Jesse once had, and that stirred up emotions—both pleasant and painful—I wasn’t equipped to deal with in the cereal aisle of the grocery store.

“Maybe,” I said. “Just so long as you promise not to cook meatloaf.”





16 October 2015


Charlie banged on the bathroom door while I brushed my teeth. Every time the mirror fogged over, I had to clear it with the palm of my hand, which didn’t really help. I hadn’t seen much of my brother since the big baby announcement, which meant my life had been quieter and more bruise-free than usual. He’d spent most of the last month with Zooey or couch surfing at various friends’ houses, but now that he was back home, he seemed hell-bent on making up for lost time.

“Open the door! I’m gonna be late for work.”

I spit a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink. “I’ll be out in a second.” I’d been brushing my teeth for the last five minutes, and didn’t have anything else I needed to do in the bathroom, but I still took my time, rinsing my mouth and shaving and making sure no stray boogers were hanging out of my nose.

The banging finally stopped, but that’s how I knew something was up. Charlie was nothing if not relentless. He once went four days without food when he was little because Mom had refused to buy him a stuffed giraffe he wanted.

Still damp from the steam, and wearing only a towel, I hurried to my bedroom. The door was open, and I was greeted by the sight of Charlie standing beside my desk, pissing into my trash can. When he saw me, he didn’t stop—not Charlie—instead he flashed me a toothy, sadistic grin. The kind that makes me wonder if my brother is a sociopath. I didn’t know what to do other than stand there in total disbelief while he finished, shook off the last drops, and zipped up his fly.

“Oh,” Charlie said, “was that your homework? If Mom finds out you didn’t turn it in, you’re in a lot of trouble.” I didn’t think it possible for me to hate my brother more than I did, but I should have known better. “Get it? You’re in a lot of trouble?”

I glanced at the black plastic trash can and then at my brother. Trash can, brother, trash can, brother. “What kind of f*cking psycho pisses on someone’s homework?”

“You don’t need to be a little bitch about it. Anyway, I told you to get out of the bathroom.”

“Charlie! You pissed on my homework! In my bedroom!” Drops of urine had splattered out of the wastebasket and clung to the side of my desk. “I can’t believe Zooey didn’t have an abortion the moment she realized she was pregnant with your demon spawn!”

Before I could stop him—before I even knew what was happening—-Charlie charged across the room and clamped his hand around my throat. He slammed me into the door, grinding my shoulder blades against the wood. “Don’t you ever f*cking talk about my kid like that.” He didn’t even yell. That was the scariest part. His voice was this calm, steady thrum. But he didn’t need to yell for me to hear how deadly serious he was.

I slapped Charlie’s wrists, not that I was strong enough to break free. I may have been afraid, but I refused to back down. Die right then at Charlie’s hands or die in 105 days from an unknown disaster. It made no difference to me. “Please, you’re such a f*ckup, you’ll probably scar that little parasite for life and then abandon it like Dad abandoned us.” My voice croaked from my throat as air fought to escape.

Charlie released me. His chest heaved and sweat rolled down his temples. He loomed over me despite being shorter. For a moment I thought our fight was done, that Charlie was finished with me, but I was mistaken. I didn’t even have time to block before he sucker-punched me in the gut. I cried out and clutched my stomach.

“Dad didn’t abandon us,” he said. “He abandoned you.”

I struggled to breathe, to look Charlie in the eyes and call him a liar. Tell him he was the worst f*cking brother in the universe. That I would have been better off an only child. But I didn’t say any of those things. I didn’t say anything at all.

“He was so ashamed of what a pathetic loser you were that he couldn’t stand being around you. Everyone you care about either runs away or kills themselves, and you think I’m a f*ckup.”

I shoved Charlie out of my room and slammed the door. I leaned against it, slid to the floor, and put my head in my hands. I wasn’t crying because of what Charlie said; I was crying because, deep down, I knew he was right.

? ? ?

All day at school, I couldn’t stop thinking about my fight with Charlie. About what he’d said. When my parents divorced, they didn’t sit me and Charlie down to explain what was happening. One day Dad was just gone, and we stopped talking about him like he’d never existed in the first place. All traces that he’d ever lived at our house disappeared. In my heart I’d always known he’d taken off because of me. It wasn’t a coinci-dence that he left only a few weeks after my first abduction.

I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I hardly knew what was going on around me at school. I ignored Audrey when she asked me if I wanted help studying for our next chemistry exam, I blew past Ms. Faraci before she could keep me after class again, and I planned on ditching Diego at lunch too. I was on my way to my locker when Marcus pulled me into an empty art room. Sketches done in charcoal and pencil plastered the walls, and I wondered which ones, if any, belonged to Diego.