Chapter Text
He knew that if he didn’t pay attention to this class that homework was going to be practically impossible, and the final was going to be even worse. But he couldn’t stop flexing his hand. He couldn’t stop staring at it.
It wasn’t even lunch yet, but it had already been a bad day. He must have walked too much yesterday because he woke up with not an unusually painful leg, but a sore shoulder and hand. He did his best not to wince every time the muscles tensed as he maneuvered his crutch.
And halfway through Mrs. Scott’s demonstration of logarithmic functions, the pain stopped. Not to his relief, but his panic. The pain stopped because everything stopped. From his knuckles to a little over his elbow had grown completely numb. He flexed again. He couldn’t feel anything.
With his other hand, he picked up his pencil and poked. The static of sleeping tingles rippled outward. He felt the pressure, but no pain. He needed to focus, he needed to. But who had time for logarithms when his fingers were growing increasingly stiff?
The moment he got home, he was going to lie on the couch and never get up. Ever. He was done walking, he was done moving, he was done thinking. He just wanted to let himself be tired. But there were logarithms to understand. And his hand was still tingling.
The people around him started to move, signaling the end of class. He waited for most of the class to file out before making his own way out of the door and having to focus more on his shoulder’s movement than the muscle memory that came with moving.
“Freddy! Freddy!” Eugene waved to him from across the cafeteria.
Freddy grinned and walked over. He tried to keep his expression pleasant while he focused on not falling. He’d taken for granted having sensation in the hand and arm that held his crutch. He just had to trust that they were doing their jobs while his other hand balanced his tray.
“Hey,” he said and sat down between Eugene and Billy.
“You’ve got to see Pedro’s essay score!” Eugene poked Pedro with rapid fingers. “Come one, come on!”
Pedro ducked his head and bit his bottom lip to fight against his smile. He pulled a packet out of his backpack and handed it to Freddy.
He turned the paper over. Medicine in Augustan Era Rome, the title read, and next to it, a red 87%.
“No way! Mazels, man!” Freddy smiled and handed it back. “Watch Rosa put this on the fridge.”
“Couldn’t have done it without your help,” Pedro mumbled.
“Oh, come on, I just pointed you in the right direction.” Freddy waved his hand.
“And consulted and proofread and edited,” Eugene said and took a bite of his lunch.
“You should be proud,” Billy said to Pedro.
Pedro looked up and gave them a soft smile. “Thanks,” he said.
Freddy took a bite of the slop on his tray and shivered. The feeling in his arm churned his stomach against the already putrid mixture of corn and meat and maybe some kind of cream. He put his fork down and flexed his arm. Or he tried to.
The panic built, beginning to stomp its feet again. He needed his arms, he needed this arm especially. But the thought of the doctor was such looming menacing darkness he couldn’t spare it another second of thought. Memories of needles and anesthetic and hands and pain and medication and loneliness and- He had to remember to breathe.
Plus, he reminded himself, there was no way they could afford a doctor more than once a year. Annual Checkups were fine for everyone else, but Freddy had learned how to swallow one thing after the next. He hadn’t asked Rosa or Victor for anything of the sort, and he knew better not to. The last place he stayed, his foster parent had told him to just “toughen up” when he complained about new pains in his leg. The man had gotten more annoyed and angry every time Freddy would ask for a doctor or any help at all.
Though, he picked up a dry carrot and set it down, if the feeling in his arm didn’t come back soon, he wasn’t sure how he was going to hide it. It would be fine tomorrow, he told himself. It would all be fine. He ignored the tapping at the back of his head, trying to remind him that he’d leaned on the mantra in countless very not-fine situations.
“Billy?” Freddy looked up at his brother as people were beginning to finish their meals.
“Yeah?” He asked, shoveling the rest of lunch in his mouth.
“You know how I’m your favorite person in the world, and you would do anything for me?” Freddy blinked with a wide smile.
Billy raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “...Yeah?”
“Anything in the whole world,” Freddy sighed.
“What do you want?”
Freddy looked down and tried to act bashful. “What? You’re offering a favor for little ol’ me?”
“Freddy.” Billy shook his head and began to stand.
Freddy folded his hands under his chin and brought back the blinking. “Would you take my tray for me?”
Billy chuckled. “Yeah, sure, dude, no need for the song and dance.”
“There is always a need for song and dance, right, Eugene?”
Eugene looked up from where he was digging in his backpack. “What?”
“Exactly.”
“Whatever, man.” Billy rolled his eyes but didn’t try to smother his smile. “You okay? You barely ate.”
“Precalc churched my stomach.” Freddy groaned. “I don’t know how I’ll survive.”
Pedro snorted, and Billy laughed again, taking both their trays. With everyone getting up, Freddy took his time getting up and pulling his backpack on. He had to use his right hand to pull both straps up.
Something rumbled in his chest when he stood. It had been a while since he’d experienced this kind of fear. It was deep and private. It curled up in the hallows of the chest and rotted from within. It stole breath slowly. It took thought gradually. It isolated and keened like a wailing ghost only he could hear. The thought of dealing with it again pricked behind his eyes.
His eyes glazed over for the rest of the day. He could barely tell what class he was in. He collected homework and scribbled instead of taking notes. By the end of the day, his jaw was aching from how hard he was clenching it.
“I don’t know how I’m going to pass Mr. Gonzalas’ test,” Billy said to no one in particular, taking the lead on the walk home. “We went over the study guide today, and I still don’t know what’s happening.”
Eugene skipped a bit to keep up. “You do know Mary would drop everything to help you, right? One study session with her, and you’ll get like a one hundred and extra credit.”
“Her thing’s organic chem, though. There’s nothing organic about that test. That shit is processed and covered in pesticides.”
“One hundred and extra credit,” Eugene repeated.
They faded out as they got further and further ahead. Usually, Freddy would be practically flinging himself to stay in step with everyone, but today he just couldn’t. He needed to take this walk slow, and that’s what he was going to do.
He heard Pedro’s laugh bounce off of the side of a building. He smiled, Pedro’s laugh was always a good sound.
Freddy took in some air and started to let himself think his way into a deep pit, slowing down with every step.
***
“Hey.” Victor walked by the couch and scratched the top of Eugene’s head. “Where’s your brother?”
“Which one?” He looked up.
“The one that didn’t walk in the door with ya, dingus.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He went back to his book. “He usually walks with us.” He shrugged. “I was talkin’ with Billy, I don’t know.”
“Alright.” Victor scratched his beard. “Carry on.”
He made his way to the kitchen, where Rosa was swaying to the music she was playing from the speaker in the corner and tending to a red sauce on the stove that made his knees weak. He kissed the top of her head and leaned in over her shoulder.
“That smells heavenly,” he said.
“I’ve made this a million times,” she chuckled.
“And it still smells heavenly. I’m gonna go for a quick walk. Need anything from the store?”
She hummed. “No, I think I have everything. Don’t be out too long. It gets less heavenly the colder it gets.”
“Loud and clear,” he said and kissed her again.
The humidity punched him in the gut the moment he walked out of the door. He groaned and already felt sweat bubbling at his back. He sighed and started walking towards the school.
Billy, Pedro, and Eugene came home a little over twenty minutes ago, and there had been no sign of his other son. He reasoned with himself that if an hour went by and phones were unanswered, then he would panic. In the meantime, he was just going to take a walk.
And it didn’t take long. After about seven minutes of walking, he spotted Freddy sitting on a curb and poking the sidewalk with his crutch. Despite the sweat pooling in his underarms, he picked up his pace a bit.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he said once he reached his kid. He grunted, lowering himself to the curb.
“Fancy seeing you, ” Freddy responded without really caring to open his mouth.
Victor waited for him to say more, looking onward to traffic and weeds poking out of the cracks of the sidewalk. Instead, Freddy just leaned his chin on the arm piece of his crutch and stayed still. Still and silent.
“You know,” Victor said. “I can’t say for sure, but I don’t think Rosa is going to bring dinner out here. She might, but I think we’d all prefer you at the table.”
He didn’t respond.
“Or I guess we could try and bring the table out here. It’d be a nice change of pace, but I don’t think there’s room on the sidewalk. We could probably get Darla and Eugene to sit on the table. Darla would actually be stocked. The passerbys probably not, though.”
Freddy just blinked and sighed.
“Not even a smile.” Victor shook his head. “Tough crowd. Alright, why are we on the curb, what happened, hmm? Eugene said you usually walk them.”
Freddy shrugged and looked down. He tapped his crutch on the sidewalk a few times again as if Victor wasn’t there.
“If I start guessing, we both know we’ll be here all day. But okay, here goes. You saw a clown and were so befuddled and upset by the existence of a clown outside of the circus or an eight-year-old’s birthday party, you had to stop. Hmm, you had an incredible epiphany about the universe and the mushroom mycelium that the existentialism paused you in your tracks. You found out you could talk to birds, and they instantly started bullying you, which is understandably very upsetting. Just point me in the pigeon’s direction.” He cracked his knuckles. “I’ll take care of ‘em.”
Freddy rolled his eyes and let out a small chuckle. Victor gave a soft smile and bumped him with his shoulder.
“What’s up?” He tried again.
“He’s right, I guess. I try and keep up.” Freddy shrugged again.
“And today?” Victor urged.
“I…I just didn’t have it in me. I’m not complaining, but I have to work more than twice as hard to move like them to ‘keep up.’ Again, I’m not trying to complain, and I know that I can, so I should, so I shouldn’t complain, but I just…I got tired. So tired. Negative spoons, I guess, I don’t know…”
Victor frowned. “Kid… A lot to unpack. But kid…first of all, you are allowed to complain. Everyone is allowed to complain. And I think if there’s one thing everyone knows about being disabled is that it’s fucking hard.”
Freddy blinked at hearing Victor curse. He went on.
“I would be more than happy to talk to the boys about slowing down instead of expecting you to speed up. Only if you want me to, anytime just give me the word, or not if that’s not something you want. Also…just because you can do something doesn’t mean you have to. I can bench press 225 pounds. That doesn’t mean I should bench press that much every day, every hour. I’d rip my muscles to shreds! Rosa can run a nine-minute mile, but she’d faint if she had to run everywhere.”
Freddy frowned, and his shoulders tensed, making a small fortress around himself.
“You’re allowed to be tired, it’s okay. I’m proud of you for not pushing yourself. I’m proud of you for taking a break.”
His frown deepened, but it accompanied a slight tilt of the head.
“What else?” Victor asked himself. “Right. Spoons?”
Freddy crossed his arms around his crutch. “Disability thing, something I read on the internet, it doesn’t matter.”
“I’ll look it up.” Victor bumped their shoulders again. “Let me just review before we move on. You are allowed to complain. In fact, it’s encouraged. It’s good for the soul. I’ll talk to the boys if you want, no pressure. Also, just because you can push yourself doesn’t mean you should. Also, I’m proud of you. Also, Rosa is making a pasta that smells amazing. Also, you’re allowed to ask for help, I know it’s not easy, but it is also actively encouraged. Caprice?”
Freddy bit his bottom lip. His frown softened and was replaced by eyes sparkling in contemplation. He nodded, short and curt.
“Wonderful,” Victor said. “Let’s go, shall we?” He stood. He thought about making a comment about how his knees aren’t what they were but thought better of it, instead extending his hand towards his son.
Freddy took it. Victor didn’t hoist him up, but flexed his arm and moved slowly until the kid was standing and had all three legs under him.
Victor walked slowly, staying in step with Freddy, who was moving without the scattered urgency he’d come to expect from him. Despite the fact that every microcosm of expression on his kid’s face shot tight, burning arrows into his gut, Victor pretended to ignore the painful winces that would ripple from Freddy every few steps. This wasn’t the time, he reminded himself. Given what they’d just talked about, it would probably be wise to wait until at least after dinner.
“The house I was in before…” Freddy started.
Victor stilled and nodded. He reminded himself to breathe, this was rare and precious. He could not think of a time in which Freddy ever spoke about life before Victor and Rosa. It wasn’t a popular discussion topic to begin with, but he knew broad strokes about everyone else.
Darla could barely remember anything before, but recognized the smell of her grandmother’s perfume and the songs she would listen to. They’d visited her grave a couple of times before, which usually triggered a more silent spell from their youngest.
Eugene was also too young for anything to be too vivid. He knew his mother died in childbirth and didn’t know anything about his father. An old aunt had taken care of him for as long as she could, but passed soon after her husband. When he’d come to them, he’d talked almost nonstop, comparing every detail of Rosa’s and Victor’s to the group home he’d been in for several months before.
Like Freddy, Pedro hadn’t spoken much about his life, though it took a while for him to speak about anything at all. They knew his mother hadn’t been in the picture since the day he was born. His father had tried for a while with visitation before getting a job and Arizona and leaving his son behind. The couple he’d been staying with ended up getting pregnant and wanted to focus all of their energies on the new baby.
Billy was still a tough nut to crack. Despite reading his file, the most the boy had said had been in defiance or said with a shrug. He called most of the homes unremarkable and spoke fondly about an elderly woman named Winnie. Just focused on finding his mother, he’d admitted. Didn’t have the energy to bond with anyone else.
Mary’s parents had been teenagers and tried for as long as they could, but neither of them could hold down a job for very long without high school degrees, and CPS stepped in when someone called about a baby left in a car on a particularly hot day. She’d spent a lot of her childhood staying with an elderly couple, she’d said that they were nice, but the woman was very traditional, and her husband didn’t often get off of his lazy boy or look away from the television. She’d told them she still kept in contact with her parents, though it had ebbed and flowed throughout the years and she had a hard time reconciling them with the titles of parents.
Freddy could talk a lot, and he knew how to talk without saying much. He knew how to smile and change the subject. ‘
So Victor nodded and listened.
“Foster dad…he didn’t like me not being able to do things…didn’t like the crutch…didn’t really want me to use it…He’d put it in the closet. Said I was being dramatic. Said it’d toughen me up, always wanted to toughen me up.” He shook his head. “It took me physically not being able to stand for two weeks for him to concede.”
Victor closed his eyes and swallowed. He could see in his mind’s eye a younger Freddy pleading and crumbling to the ground in a way he’d seen so many times, his movement stuttering and falling, and instead of a helping hand or shoulder, a stern shaking head.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “That sounds awful. That sucks. Fuck that guy.”
Freddy snorted. “Yeah, he sucked. But I don’t know. Builds character.”
“No, screw that. He had no right to treat you that way.”
“Maybe,” Freddy mumbled.
They stopped in front of their house. Victor put his hand on Freddy’s shoulder before they went in. “You don’t have to be tough here. In any way. You can ask for things, we won’t be upset. We want you to be happy and healthy.”
Freddy gave a quick and half smile. “Thanks,” he said. “You were saying something about Pasta?”
“I can smell the garlic from here.” Victor held the door for him.
***
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen that particular frown.” Rosa reached over and ran a thumb over Victor’s brow.
He hummed and smiled. Adjusting the laptop over his legs atop the duvet, he looked over at his wife who had placed a receipt in her book and was waiting for him to fill her in.
“Just doing some reading, something Fred mentioned today.”
“Oh yeah?” Rosa scooted closer until her head rested on his shoulder.
He put an arm around her and kissed the top of her head.
“Is he…getting into cutlery?” She asked, squinting at the screen.
Victor chuckled and closed the computer, setting it aside. “Spoon theory- he mentioned it offhand, said it was something he read online, that it ‘didn’t matter.’ But the more I read the more I think it absolutely matters.”
“And it is?” She asked.
“From what I’ve read so far…it’s kind of an analogy that’s meant to put language to something that’s kind of hard to explain. Again, I’ve just done some surface reading- but from what I’ve gathered…Say there are two people.”
He held out both of his pointer fingers next to each other. “Person one.” He wiggled his left finger. “Has a disability or a chronic illness. Person B, no, person two.” He wiggled his other finger. “Is able bodied. Both of them have a certain amount of spoons on them and every daily task requires a certain number of spoons to complete.
“Person one wakes up with ten spoons and person two wakes up with 30 spoons. So once both of them have done things like getting up and showering to brush their teeth and cooking and eating— person one is going to have like five spoons left and person two has twenty five spoons left to use on things.”
Rosa hummed and nodded. “So it’s like energy?”
“Yeah, I think so. But since energy is such an abstract concept, it’s more clear to say I have three spoons left instead of I’m low on energy, more detailed I guess and efficient.”
“I like that,” she said. “Spoons.”
“Speaking of…he seem more tired to you?”
“I can’t say I’ve noticed.” She shook her head but frowned up at him. “You have, though. What’s going on?”
“I found him sitting on the curb today. Just on the side of the pavement.”
“What?” Rosa perked up and gripped his arm.
Victor sighed. “Yeah. He just seemed so exhausted and said so, said he was too tired to try and keep up with his brothers and by the looks of it too, too tired to keep walking at all.”
Rosa leaned back and didn’t say anything. He recognized the silence of her rapid and deep thoughts. He went on.
“He told me a little about where he was before…said there was a foster parent who ‘always wanted to toughen him up.’ Said the man kept his crutch in a closet and it took him not being able to even stand for him to let him use it.”
“Jesus.” Rosa shook her head. “Are we…Are we doing enough? I mean we just learned about these spoons.”
“There will always be more to learn,” he said. “But yeah…It did have me thinking. We’ve not known him to not be able to stand, I guess it made me think- we don’t really know the limits and range of his abilities…or lack thereof.”
“And does he?” She asked, lacing her fingers together. “Certainly he knows more than anyone else, but how many doctors has he seen? How many answers does he have?”
“It kind of shook me,” Victor said, his voice barely rising up over an audible volume. “Just seeing him sitting there.”
Rosa grabbed his hand and squeezed. She looked at him. “What are some things we can try and do differently?”
He huffed. “I can’t think of anything he would agree to.”
“We can try at least, keep him in the conversation, too. We could ask if he’d rather his room be on the first floor?”
“We don’t have a room on the first floor.”
“We could put one together if he wanted. I don’t know about you, but I’d do anything for our kids' comfort.”
He brought their linked hands together and kissed her knuckles.
“We could check in more. Energy levels, spoons, pain, all the things.”
“We should read more, too. Like I said, no one is going to know more about him than him, but I feel at least right now…very uneducated.”
“Me too,” he sighed. “That article was full of words and terms I’ve never heard.”
“Do you remember what we talked about when we brought him home?” She smiled, thinking about a younger Freddy and their growing family.
“Of course. We were going to love and accommodate no matter what. Abled or disabled, our kids are our kids and we were not going to make the world harder for him.” He joined her smiling.
“Exactly.” She squeezed his hand. “But I think we maybe, perhaps, plateaued with intention. That love and accommodation comes with more than just not hiding his crutch in the closet.”
“I fear you may be right, my love.” He yawned.
“Read more in the morning?”
“Sounds good.” He slid further down his pillows and put his computer on the floor.
“Good night, mi corazón.”
“Good night, cariña.”
***
Billy didn’t snore. He was messy and sometimes left things on the ground that Freddy would trip on. Sometimes he wouldn’t shower after PE or running around and the whole room would smell like sweat. Sometimes he would watch loud videos on his phone even though he had headphones right there . Sometimes he would fart and leave dirty dishes on Freddy’s bedside table. But overall he was a good roommate and a good brother and he didn’t snore.
He was a pretty quiet sleeper.
But that didn’t matter right now because white noise or complete silence, Freddy couldn’t sleep.
His arm was weight. A foreign weight like his hand and forearm were someone’s else's right next to him. His left arm was fine and light. It was nibble and so delightfully not in pain.
He shifted a little and glared at the arm resting on his chest. His shoulder was pulsing with the heat of pain. Despite it being new pain, it was somehow making the pain in his right hip joint and leg worse. He bit his lip so he wouldn’t groan, but a whimper slithered out.
The sleeping house and the pain took the ill fitting lid off of what was threatening to spill on his walk home. What he’d been denying.
The fact that he’d felt this feeling before. The tingles, the strange pain pulses, the numbness, the stiffness. He’d never been an able-bodied child. His joints ached from day one, his legs never quite worked like everyone else’s. They were a bit floppy and stiff.
And then in someone else’s fit of rage that smelled like chemicals (the smell of cat urine, rotten eggs, and different cleaning solutions would stop his breathing and put him back), a bookshelf was pushed over and onto his seven year old leg.
It didn’t hurt. It tingled. And then hurt a lot. Then he couldn’t feel anything. Then it hurt. And then it didn’t. The boredom was the worst part and he became increasingly acquainted with the peeling paint and duct tape on the ceiling.
A neighbor took him to the hospital. The doctors said it should be all healed up in six to eight weeks. Neither of his parents came to get him. A woman named Meena who smelled like jasmine and rosemary took him to someone else’s house and then someone else’s house.
After eight weeks they took the cast off and he couldn’t move his leg. At all. The mobility he had now was almost a miracle compared to those first two years. The nurses and doctors explained their befuddlement over and over and kept him in that damn bed for so long.
He swallowed. The smell of hospitals, of antiseptic, of dry food, of alcohol wipes, and old woman's tears flooded his nostrils and head. He gagged and stuck his nose in his pillow despite the way twisting aggravated his body. The hair oil and the lily moisturizer Mary got for him evened his breath.
He could not handle it again. He could not. He could not go back to the hospital. He could not lose the use of his arm like he lost the use of his leg. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t.
He choked on the tears threatening to fall. He couldn’t remember when, if had been with Jim who wanted him to be tough, before, or after, he had promised himself he wouldn’t cry about it and he wouldn’t complain. But he did, so he didn’t. He swallowed every scary thought and put it away in the back of his head. He put on a brave and happy face for everyone around him. He swallowed every complaint.
He used to let some of it out when he was in his room before Billy got there. But now he tattooed that brave face on until this moment.
A cloud was emerging from his arm. A dark cloud that he couldn’t see through and stuffed itself down his throat. It was overwhelming, it was so goddamn overwhelming he didn’t know how to do anything but cry. Between the silent tears rolling into his ears, he admitted to himself, he was scared.
***
“Billy!” Mary burst through their door, knocking as she opened it. “Freddy! I made banana pancakes and they are amazing! Come on!”
She pulled Billy’s blanket off of his shoulders. He groaned. “It’s too early…did you say pancakes?”
She sat down on the foot of Freddy’s bed and rested her hand on his ankle. “Just smell that,” she said. “Breathe in. And out. All of that and coffee is down stairs all you have to do is come down the stairs and join literally everyone else.”
Billy groaned again. “What time is it? Weekends are for sleeping.”
“And pancakes,” she said. “It’s 10:45. The day is practically over.”
“Still morning.” Billy flopped down and covered his eyes.
“Almost noon!” She laughed. “And the pancakes are going fast.”
“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” He swung his legs over his bed and stretched, yawning. “That does smell good, I’ll see you down there.” He dragged his hands through his chair and lumbered down the stairs.
Mary shook Freddy’s ankle. “Come on, sleepy head.”
He twitched his leg away from her. “Please don’t do that,” a tight voice said after a moment.
She brought her hand back like his foot was a struck match. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She covered her mouth.
“It’s fine,” he mumbled. “Don’t beat yourself up.” He scootched himself with one arm to a sitting position.
“Are you okay?” Mary nibbled on her nails and knit her brow.
“Pfft. I’m fine, so are you, I can handle a little shaking. I stubbed my toe the other day, I thought I was going to die. And yet here I stand. Sit, whatever. I’ll survive.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Do these pancakes require getting up?” He squinted.
“Unfortunately yes, you know the rule, meals at the table.”
Freddy sighed. Mary went to smile, but stuttered, noticing the dark bags and red rings framing his eyes. “Are you alright?”
“You already asked that.” He smiled at her. “I’m fine.” He moved his left leg off of the bed and shook out his right one. “I’ll be down in a minute,” he said. “I’m gonna sit here and be mad about being awake for a second.”
Mary chuckled. “You got it. See you down there.”
“He comin’?” Billy asked through a mouthful of pancake when Mary got back to the kitchen.
She grabbed her coffee and pressed the hot mug to her forehead. “I think so.”
Rosa moved past her and rubbed her shoulder, pouring another cup. “You okay, mi niña?”
“I’m fine, I’m just an idiot.”
“How’s that?”
“I went to shake him awake and grabbed his ankle. On the wrong leg. He was very cool and polite about it, but I still feel like an idiot.”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” Billy said. “I completely forgot the other week, jokingly shoved, and accidently knocked him over. On the pavement. He tripped me with his crutch, I had it coming.”
“I stepped on his leg once,” Eugene added. “Word of advice, do not do that.”
“I forget all the time.” Darla shook her head, wide eyes. She popped up and grinned. “He’s very nice about it!”
Eugene nodded and pointed his fork at her.
“I hate that this actually makes me feel better,” Mary said.
“As great as that is, maybe let’s be more careful with our brother, hmm?” Rosa smiled with a knit brow.
“Are you kidding?” Eugene laughed. “He’d kill us. He once asked Pedro to throw him over a wall.”
“What?” Victor put his coffee down and raised his eyebrows.
“Nothing!” Darla smiled.
“I don’t believe that,” Victor whispered.
The sound of Freddy making his way down the stairs stalled the conversation. “You all wake up too early,” he grumbled.
“It’s 11:00,” Mary said and placed a full plate on the counter. “Apology pancakes.”
Freddy laughed. “I’m fine, and already forgot. If you don’t stop wallowing I’m gonna only be mildly complementary to these cakes.”
Mary smiled. “Okay. I guess . Anyone have plans today?”
***
By the time he was dressed, he was exhausted again. Billy ran in and slid into a pair of jeans lying on the floor in a matter of seconds and red buttoned up short sleeves. Out of the corner of his eye Freddy watched Billy do the buttons like breathy.
He flexed his hand again only to find it had grown stiffer, fingers not wanting to curl or uncrurl. He wasn’t jealous, he just took a moment to notice. Flex, unflex. Flex, unflex. Getting dressed in a timely fashion was for chumps, anyway.
“You coming with us?” Billy asked, smiling. “You remember the new cat cafe a block away Darla was talking about wanting to check out?”
“Yeah?”
“She now won’t rest until we all agree to go with her.”
Freddy looked up at his brother’s shining face. He ached to say yes. His sleepless body groaned in protest.
“I don’t know, man,” he said. “I didn’t sleep much, I’m tired.”
“Please,” Billy knelt next to his bed. “Please, please, please.”
“I…sure.” He sighed.
“For real?” Billy’s eyebrows shot up.
“Yeah, way not?”
“Thank god,” he said.
“Under one condition.”
“Oh god.”
Freddy extended his arm. “Help me up?”
Billy chuckled and took his hand, pulling him into a sitting position.
“Thanks, my knight in shining armor.”
“Whatever, man. Let’s go.”
***
He’d been grumbling to himself down the stairs and out of the door, wondering why they walked anywhere ever when they had a beautiful shining disabled placard burning a hole in the glove box of the car. But when he saw Darla tilt her head towards the sun and spin around, practically skipping down the sidewalk, he conceded within himself.
He smiled at her spinning and giggling, Mary holding her hand up as they merged dancing and walking. Mary had been glued to everyone more so the more the date of her first semester in college got closer and Darla could barely let go of her leg. Freddy understood the sentiment, the thought of Mary being missing from the house was a strange thought. He knew she would only be about an hour and a half at NYU, but it felt far. He knew she would be back in the winter, but it felt so long.
“I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for not pushing yourself. I’m proud of you for taking a break.” Victor’s voice rattled in his head and knocked in his throat. He swallowed and paused to shake out his arm. He was scared if he put his crutch on the ground and applied pressure that his arm would just disintegrate and he would fall to the ground, left to watch it scatter away in the wind.
Yet he put it back and continued limping behind his siblings. He used to love the sound of his crutch moving beside him, it was the rhythm to a song about freedom. Without it, he’d be practically immoble. He loved his crutch. But the stability it usually granted him felt fleeting and fragile. A crutch was mobility, a crutch was freedom. But a crutch needed arms.
An ache went through his “good” knee. Sometimes sitting at dinner, massaging his leg joints under the table, he was tempted to casually bring up that most of the other crutch users he’d chatted with on the internet use crutches on good days and wheelchairs on worse ones. True freedom, they called it, finally living their lives to the fullest.
But he didn’t. Never would. Wheelchairs were impossibly expensive in a way that made him nauseous to even think about asking for. He reminded himself he was lucky. In those two years after the break where he couldn’t walk at all, he was bed bound, chair bound, his muscles wasted away, he was so lucky to have his crutch.
He gritted out the reminder through teeth grinding themselves against the effort and pain.
There was no way he was taking Victor’s offer, but man, he wished at least one of his siblings would slow down.
“Excuse me,” a woman with headphones in walking at an impossible speed, shifted and passed him.
He jumped a bit and shifted to the left, putting more weight on his crutch as she passed by, but twisted the other way to avoid a man on his other side moving just as fast. He went to tighten his hand around the handle, but found no sensation. He trusted that it was there, that it would hold him and accept the weight.
He was wrong. His crutch slipped to the side and brought his body down with it.
“Fuck!” He yelped as he landed on his knee and his left arm met the crushing space between the pavement and his hip.
Pain erupted from his leg. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he breathed out. “Fuck.”
When the lights dissipated from his vision, he gulped and rolled his shoulders. Several deep breaths later, he picked up his crutch and got up. He couldn’t see his siblings anymore. Onward it was, then.
***
“No, no, I’m paying.” Mary pulled out some cash when Predro went for his pockets. “I’ll have the Toe Bean Latte,” she giggled. “And Fred?”
She turned around to come face to face with an elderly woman and a young girl. “Oh, sorry.”
Mary leaned over and caught her brother through the glass, making his way to the cafe. “Hold our spot, Billy?” She didn’t wait for a response before walking to the door and holding it open for him.
“Thanks,” he said. “Long time no see.”
“Were you behind us all that time?” She asked.
“I’m mortally wounded you didn’t wail and kvetch at my absence.” he laughed. “You walk, I limp, it happens.”
She frowned. “Drip coffee with milk and a little cinnamon?”
“Oh dear sister, you know me so well.” He puffed, catching his breath through his words.
She smiled. “I got it, you go with the rest and find a seat.”
“Oh, chairs, my beloved,” Freddy said and made his way to the rest of his siblings.
***
“Let me get this perfectly straight.” Freddy pulled out a chair and flopped next to Billy. “You drag me from where I was beautifully and peacefully horizontal and then leave me to face the horrid and rough streets of Philadelphia? What gives?” He smiled.
Billy chuckled. “Sorry man, Pedro and I got to talking, I lost track.”
Freddy shrugged and joined his chuckle. “No sweat. I’m kinda more excited about the coffee than the cats. Is that weird?”
“Very.” Darla crossed her arms. “Coffee is gross. Cats are adorable.”
“She’s got you there,” Billy said.
“I guess. Who could argue with that?” He huffed.
“Do you think we could convince Rosa and Victor to adopt a cat?” Eugene asked.
“No way,” Pedro said. “Six kids and a cat? There’s no way.”
“We can replace Mary with a cat,” Darla said.
“What’s this about replacing me?” Mary made her way to their table with hands full of a drink tray.
“Nothing!” Darla grinned.
“Would you be mad if we replaced you with a cat?” Pedro asked.
“With a cat? No, not if it was a good one.” She sat down.
“Challenge accepted,” Darla said. “I’m leaving here with five.”
The conversation quickly divulged into what kinds of cats were best and what names would be fitting. Mary leaned over to Freddy, who was sipping and sniffing his coffee.
“I am sorry that we left you behind. That’s not very one for all and all for one of us,” she said. “Not very all hands on deck.”
“It’s alright,” he said. “Really. I mean there was one moment where it would have been nice to have someone to help me up after Ms. ‘I can’t wait two seconds. I have to push through everyone in front of me. The business lady knocked me down, but otherwise it’s all good.”
“Are you alright?” She knit her brow. “Any scraped knees or elbows?”
Numb arm and a throbbing leg? He answered in his head. “No, no, I’m fine.”
“Either way,” she went on. “You shouldn’t have to walk alone. There are six of us. We don’t all have to walk at the speed of light.”
He huffed. “You’re all speed walkers, even Darla with her tiny legs. It’s honestly incredible.”
Mary laughed. “I’m gonna miss you when I’m gone.”
“You’re not going that far,” he said. “But I’m gonna miss you, too.”
A knot formed in his throat, built of panic and grief. The anxiety over his arm blew on the repressed sadness over Mary’s imminent departure and turned it into a flame. Too much change, his brain said. Too much, too fast. Don’t go, don’t go, he pleaded within himself. Don’t go, I might be losing my arm, my leg is getting worse and I’m scared. Don’t go. Hug me instead.
She squeezed his shoulder and turned back to the rest of their siblings, who were chugging their drinks to get to the cats.
“Kitties!” Darla leapt up and tossed her cup, practically vibrating in front of the door.
***
The purring pile of fuzz sitting on his lap confirmed for Freddy, he was a cat person. He used what he tried not to refer to as his “good” arm and hand to stroke the kitten on the top of the head.
He understood the appeal of dogs, why people liked them, excitable, full of love, and eager to play fetch. But he was unsteady on his feet — big dogs would jump up and knock him down and little dogs would run around his ankles and also knock him down.
Cats were agile. They thought before they trusted, then confirmed before they gave their love. Freddy could understand that. And they were soft, so soft.
“There is a world,” Pedro said next to him, a cat cradled in each arm. “Where Rosa and Victor agree to let us have a cat.”
“There’s no way, dude. There is no way.” Freddy smiled and shook his head.
“If we brought them here.” Pedro nodded slowly. “That might change their minds.”
“Isn’t Victor allergic?” Freddy frowned.
“Oh yeah,” Pedro said. “We can always come back, I suppose.” He shrugged, accidentally waking one of the cats, who jumped to the floor. “Noooooo,” he whispered. “Come back.”
Freddy grinned at him. “We better. I’m beginning to get attached to these little guys.”
“Y’all about ready to go?” Billy walked up to them. “Our time slot is almost up.”
Freddy stuck his bottom lip out but scratched the cat until it woke up and nimbly tumbled from his hands. “I suppose,” he said.
A week ago, he might have asked Billy or Pedro to help him up, but now he didn’t want anyone to touch his arms, nonetheless pulling on him. He took his time getting his crutch beneath him and standing on one foot before settling into motion.
“Are you nervous?” Freddy asked Mary, who was walking beside him on their way back, holding Darla’s hand. “About school and leaving?”
Mary huffed in thought for a moment. “You’re the first person to ask me that.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Everyone asks me if…if I’m excited. And I am, I am, really. But yeah, hell I’m so nervous. New place, new people, new state. I’m terrified.”
Freddy nodded. “It sounds terrifying.”
“I’m less nervous about my professors or having a roommate— I’ve lived with you stinky rascals for so long, it’s no sweat off my brow— than I am about like finding the rooms my classes are in or getting lost.”
“That will last probably a few days, a week at the most,” he said. “You’re amazing, you’re so smart, give it a matter of hours and you’ll be walking around like you own the place. Plus,” he added. “You’re doing this summer thing, so you’re going to be way ahead of everyone else when the semester starts, you’ll be the one showing everyone around.”
She smiled at him. “You’re right. Thanks. I mean, I know that logically. I’m still nervous.”
“It’s kind of like going to another house, right?” He said. “Except better cause instead of knowing nothing, you’ve seen the campus and chose it, you’ll know your roommate’s name- but you’re still going to another place to sleep and live and there will be older people who have been there longer to show you the ropes. But you can leave anytime and you’ll have us at your back every step of the way.”
“You’re right.” She frowned a little and nodded. “I’ve done this before without the support system I have now.”
“I don’t mean to like…stop you for being nervous or try to dissuade you cause your nervousness isn’t bad or something you shouldn’t feel-”
“No, no, you helped. I mean I’m still nervous, but it’s nice to talk about and you did help. You’re smart, Fred.”
He huffed. “Thanks.”
“Don’t laugh,” Darla piped up for the first time since they started talking. “You are smart.”
Freddy smiled. “Thank you. I mean it.”
“Have you thought about college at all?” Mary asked.
“A little,” he said. “I don’t know. I’d like to study history, like actually beyond high school. ‘we’ll blow past all of ancient history in a week.’ But…I don’t… I don’t know.” He didn’t elaborate about how he had bigger problems right now.
“I think you’d love it. I mean, I don’t have too much experience to draw on, but you’d be flourishing, you’d dazzle everyone.”
He huffed again. “I appreciate that.”
“Are you okay?” Darla unlatched from Mary’s hand and skipped to the other side of Freddy.
He hummed and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? I’m good. Why do you ask?”
“You’re shaking,” she said.
He frowned and looked down. Sure enough, his arm handling his crutch was trembling as he moved it. He hadn’t felt it. Didn’t feel it still. But his gut turned hollow. He remembered his legs doing this before he got his cast removed and everything changed forever.
He chuckled. “That’s nothing, just part of the life.” He thought about shrugging and hoped he did it, but he couldn’t tell. “Are we, uh, are we getting close?”
“Almost there.” Mary smiled.
“Right,” he said and grit his teeth. “Right.”
***
The relief of the end of year was soured by the boxes Mary and Victor were taping up in the living room.
“That’s it then.” Rosa hugged herself. “That’s all of it?”
Mary hummed and nodded. She moved to Rosa. “Mama.” She put her hands on her shoulders. “I’ll call you every week. And I’ll be home for early semester break before you know it.”
“Oh, mi nina.” Rosa took Mary in her arms. “It’s time for you to fly. You’ve been ready for a long time, that doesn’t mean I am.”
Mary smiled and released her, turning towards the rest of her family lingering in the living room as Victor loaded boxes into the car. She took a deep breath. Eugene barreled into her and squeezed. She hugged back.
“I’m only a phone call away,” she said, stroking his head. “And I’ll be back soon. So soon.”
Pedro all but lifted her as his arms all but trembled with the strength of his hug. Mary cupped his face and hugged him again.
Billy smiled at her, but nestled his head into the crook of her neck as they hugged. “Text me,” he mumbled.
“Everyday,” she mumbled back.
Darla cried. She’d been whipping tears all morning. But when she was gathered into her sister’s arms, she bawled. Mary rocked them slightly, muttering the dates of all her breaks.
“Don’t leave me here with all these stinky boys,” Darla said.
Mary grinned and chuckled, Darla let out a soaking giggle.
“They’re not that bad.”
Mary gave her one more strong squeeze and moved to Freddy. He wrapped his arms around her torso and focused on the feeling of her hands on his back and not the effort it took to hold his arms in place.
“You’re gonna blow them out of the water,” he said.
She squeezed tighter. “I’m gonna miss you, nerd. Take care of yourself, okay?”
He smiled. “Always.”
She squeezed his shoulders and took in a deep breath.
“You got this,” he whispered to her.
Mary’s smile wavered but stayed in place. “Yeah,” she whispered back. “Yeah, I do.”
“Ready to go?” Victor came back in.
“As I’ll ever be.” She shrugged.
***
The first night without Mary was different. She didn’t snore or wander around at night. But it still felt different. He could feel the missing piece. Rosa made omelets in the morning and swiped at the tears that kept creeping out.
The second night was easier. He and Billy stayed up until three stifling their giggles over nothing, basking in the relief of being done with finals and the school year.
On the third night Darla shook Freddy awake and asked with eyes liking melting ice if he would sing to her. He followed to her room and sat on the edge of her bed, softly resurrecting the yearning yiddish syllables he could never forget until her breathing evened out and her cheek squished into the pillow. He stayed for a moment, fighting against his own desire to sleep before making his way back to his and Billy’s room.
After a week, they had found their rhythm again. It was different. Mary’s voice would come through on a telephone or a tertiary report of a text, but it turned comfortable, a quick normal.
Freddy couldn’t sleep. Billy was in Mary’s room, enjoying some solitude. Freddy didn’t take offense, he enjoyed having his own room every now and again.
But he couldn’t sleep. Everything was uncomfortable. His leg sat on the left of pain. Where nothing was sharp, but he could feel the nerve and where it clashed with his joints. He flexed his foot and felt the muscles spasm up to his knee.
He sighed. His back ached. His arms flopped, their weight sagging on his shoulder joints. Maybe he just needed some water.
The trek downstairs left him breathless and ready to start fighting anyone who came close to him. Grabbing a glass and filling it with water was like playing Operator with his toes. Hold it, just hold it, he told himself. Hold it and sip, it’s easy, anyone could do it. Just hold it and sip.
And it was easy. Easy as tightrope walking west during the sunset. Easy. Until the glass was on the floor. On the floor in a million pieces and his feet were covered in water. And his legs. The glass was on the floor. That’s not where it was meant to be. But so was he. His elbow hit the hardwood. He was on the floor. That’s not where he was supposed to be.
He squinted into the darkness and squinted at a piece of glass in his arm. Huh. He couldn’t feel it. The arm flopped to the ground with the rest of him. And he couldn’t remember if it was the glass that was in a million pieces or him.