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Dexter was home again. He wasn’t missing anymore. He wasn’t missing for a while.
It wasn’t a long time yet because it didn’t seem that very long ago.
He got away from the corner monsters, he got away from the bad man (that’s what all the grown ups were saying).
Deb didn’t know who the bad man was, and the grown ups didn’t know either. That’s why they kept asking Dexter.
But Dexter’s voice got missinged when he was missing.
Now he didn’t say anything at all. He didn’t say anything since he got missinged and un-missinged.
He got quiet-scared. And did the bad-funny breathing. Like he had the coughing flu. Except he was crying too.
Deb was only six years old. But she knew the quiet crying and not talking and bad-funny breathing was probably very bad. And she knew Dexter was probably just scared. (She didn’t like it, she didn’t know how scared you had to be to be too scared to talk, but it had to be a very bad feeling).
Like when she had bad dreams and was too scared and sad to talk about them. Except Dexter was too scared to talk about anything at all. And it had been more than a few minutes and more than hours or days. And Dexter was still too scared to say anything.
And Deb couldn’t sleep.
Dexter had been missing weeks ago but she was still so scared that the monsters or a bad man would come back and take Dexter again.
That her big brother would get missinged again. This time he couldn’t call for help because he still wasn’t talking. (Deb didn’t know if he called for help when he first got missinged, but she was pretty sure that he did). (Because that was what you were supposed to do when a monster or a bad man tried to take you or hurt you, and Dexter was always doing what he was supposed to do). (Dexter was a rule-follower).
So Deb picked up her blanket when she tip-toed out of bed. (She dropped her teddy down first, to check that there wasn’t any monsters waiting to grab her feet). She picked up the bear.
The hallway was dark, but Deb was a fast runner and Dexter’s room wasn’t very far.
Dexter was awake.
He always was awake, no matter how late and dark it seemed. Every night since the first night he was back home, he was awake, his pajamas folded on the chair, wearing his underwear and one of Dad’s old t-shirts, looking at the pajamas.
Dexter didn’t use his nightlight that much before he got missinged. Only when Deb had a bad dream and sneaked in and woke him up.
He always had it on now.
He was always looking at the pajamas.
Deb knew the bad man made Dexter wear pajamas that weren’t his. Deb thinked that the bad man made pajamas scary for Dexter.
Just like how Deb’s bad dreams made the monkey bars scary.
Dexter was 10 years old, and he thought he was too big to tell Mom and Dad he was scared. That was before he was missing though.
Now Dexter didn’t tell anyone anything.
He didn’t even write things down. (And he was much better at writing things than Deb was).
Deb didn’t like to be alone when she was scared. And she was pretty sure Dexter was scared. Even if he couldn’t tell her.
And Deb was scared too. About somebody taking him away again, about Dexter being scared and alone when he was scared.
Maybe because he was the big brother it was his job to help her, but she was pretty sure that little sisters were supposed to help their big brothers too.
And Dexter was always awake when she came in. Like he was too scared to sleep, or like he was waiting for her.
He always scooched back on his bed to make room for her. And he always pulled his covers over her too, even though Deb was a blanket hog and she bringed her blanket so she wouldn’t steal his.
He got more tired after that, he usually fell asleep the same time or maybe a little after Deb did.
Sometimes he had nightmares.
Sometimes he woke Deb up by accident. (Deb knowed Dexter didn’t want to wake her up, even if he was scared, he was dumb like that). (But he was her big dumb brother).
Deb thinked and hoped that she was helping him by sneaking into his room, like how he helped her when she couldn’t sleep.
Tonight, Deb tried to pull her blanket over Dexter’s covers to cover them both. It looked like Dexter smiled a little bit, in the dark.
“It’s my turn to keep the monsters away,” she whispered to him.
Deb knew she wasn’t very big at all, and that monsters and bad men probably wouldn’t be scared of her. But she could scream reality really loud and run very fast and she could get Mom and Dad.
Deb falled asleep fast.
It was easier to sleep when she knowed where Dexter was, when she could open her eyes and see him.
She waked up and her legs were wet. And the bed was shaking.
Dexter was bad-breathing, he was bad-breathing so bad she could hear it. And he was shaking, kicking his feet and hitting her with his arms.
But he was still sleeping.
“Wake up! Dexter, wake up!” she said, grabbing his arm when it tried to hit her again.
Then Dexter was awake. He was scared. (Deb didn’t like it). (Dexter was always braver than her, she didn’t know how to be brave when he was scared). (She didn’t know how to make it better, but she wanted to).
Dexter was awake, scared and still bad breathing, sitting up and shivering.
He looked down.
The bed was dark, and wet.
Dexter wet the bed. His bad dream was so scary he wet the bed. Deb didn’t know how to be brave, but she knowed what to do when the bed was wet. And she knowed she had to try to be brave. (Because when she was scared Dexter be-ed brave and it made her feel better, and she wanted to help him too).
Deb climbed out of the bed first, because Dexter was on the wall side. She didn’t even check for feet-grabbing monsters first. (There wasn’t any).
Both of them had wet legs and the blankets and sheets were wet.
Deb knowed she didn’t like to be alone when she was scared.
“C’mon,” she said, holding out her hand, they had to get Mom or Dad.
Because somebody had to help them put the bedclothes into the laundry and reach the other sheets. (Deb still didn’t get why Mom and Dad decided to put the sheets and blankets on the top of the hall closet where only grown ups could reach).
Deb always felt hot-faced and embarrassed when she wet the bed. She was supposed to be too old for that now.
That meant Dexter would probbly be even more embarrassed because he was older. But Dexter was scared and they needed new sheets.
And Dexter was still too scared to talk. (Miss Camilla said that he would talk again when he didn’t feel scared anymore, Deb didn’t know when that would be but she hoped it would be soon, because the quiet was scary-sad and because she didn’t want Dexter to be scared).
Deb waked up Mom first. Mom was always nicer when you waked her up than Dad was. Even though Mom was sick. (Dad didn’t get much sleep because he worked all the time).
“What is it honey?” Mom asked, blinking awake and rubbing the gross eye-boogers from her eyes. (She said it was magic dream sand from the sandman but it sure looked like yellow snot).
“Dexter had a bad dream,”
Mom frowned, looking behind Deb to Dexter.
“He wet the bed,” she say-ed.
Mom nodded, with that sad almost smile. Where she said she was proud but also looked sad because something bad or scary happened.
Mom didn’t ask why Deb was in Dexter’s room. Or about why Dexter wasn’t wearing real pajamas. She just gave Dexter a hug and pushed his floppy hair out of his face. And she gave both Dexter and Deb a kiss on the head. (Deb thinked she heard Mom saying something about being proud of her).
Mom opened a drawer on the big dresser and pulled out one of Dad’s undershirts.
Mom closed the door to her’s and Dad’s room when they leaved. The hallway wasn’t as dark or scary with her and Dexter in it.
Mom turned on the lamp in Dexter’s room.
“You two get washed up, okay?”
Deb nodded, Dexter nodded too.
Dexter turned on the shower.
He didn’t have bruises anymore. The ones the bad man gave him. And the cut over his eyebrow was all healed up now too. No more scab.
Dexter showered very fastly. Like a after-pool shower.
Deb took a very fast shower too, because she couldn’t think of a better way to wash off her legs. And it would take a long time for the bathtub to fill up.
Dexter held her towel out for her when she shut off the water. He was wrapped in his towel, keeping it wrapped around his body by holding his elbows really tight to his sides.
Deb didn’t get her hair that much wet because it wasn’t a real shower. And wet hair made pillows wet and they didn’t want the bed to be wet again.
Deb throwed her pajamas into the clothes hamper with Dexter’s stuff.
Mom got her new pajamas and underwear when they were not-really-showering.
Dexter weared the undershirt Mom took from Dad’s clothes. It was very big on him even though Dexter wasn’t very small.
“Why don’t we have some milk before we go back to bed?” Mom asked.
Deb looked at Dexter. It was his bed, and his bad dream, so it should be his choice too.
Dexter nodded.
Mom even got out the chocolate syrup. So they maked chocolate milk.
Dexter stayed quiet, but he looked like he feeled better. He smiled a little bit.
They both got chocolate milk mustaches.
Mom put Dexter’s pajamas away someplace. And she didn’t try to tell Deb to go to her own bed or her own room.
She just gave them more goodnight kisses and tucked Deb into bed at the same time as Dexter.
“I love you both, you’re so very brave,” Mom say-ed, her voice quiet and nice.
“I love you too,” Deb say-ed back. Dexter didn’t say anything, but Deb thinked he wanted to.
“Sweet dreams,” Mom say-ed as she closed the door.
Then they went back to sleep.
Deb hoped that Mom wouldn’t tell Dad about it in the morning. Maybe Dad would be mad at her for sneaking into Dexter’s room every night. She just wanted to help.
And she didn’t know if she could sleep in her own bed or her own room yet, she still got scared that Dexter was missing when she couldn't see him.
She couldn’t help when he was missing. But now she could help.
She was only six and she was the little sister, but she wanted to help. She wanted to be a good sister. And she wanted her brother to not be scared anymore.
Because she was only six and she wasn’t very good at being brave and Deb didn’t know how much being brave she could do. Because she wanted everything to go back to normal, like before Dexter got missing.
Before, when he was brave and he told her to shut her face when she teased him or talked too much. Before, when he tried to make fire with sticks in the yard. Or with the magnifying glass and old pieces of paper. Before, when he helped her with her reading and writing, telling her how to sound out the words and how to spell them.
Before, when she was the one that had nightmares. When she was the only one too scared to sleep on her own, and it was not that much of the nights. When it wasn’t every night.
Deb wished that somebody would hurt the monster or bad man that took her big brother, that they would hurt them really bad for hurting Dexter and scaring him so much that he couldn’t talk and he couldn’t sleep.
Because they hurt him bad. Dexter was brave and they scared him bad.
And it made her scared, but it made her very very mad too.