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Mom and Dad were unhappy again.
Greg had no idea what had set them off. He hadn’t been paying attention. He only knew that their voices were growing louder and louder.
As if that wasn’t enough, the authorities were hot on Robber Racoon’s tail. He was quick, but the ten million doubloons he had stolen were weighing him down quite a bit. He had been attempting to hide between the giant rocks, or couch cushions, as some called them.
Unfortunately, unlike his plush companion, Greg couldn’t disappear between them.
His hands shot up in reflex, clamping tight over his ears.
Mom and Dad loved each other. They made sure to tell him that every day. Why were they still shouting? Why couldn’t they just kiss each other and be happy?
It wasn’t enough. He could still make sense of their muffled, hurtful words. He curled forward, pressing his face hard against the armrest.
There was something oddly comforting about it, even if it hurt a bit. If he pressed hard enough, he could see all the squiggly, multicolored worms that lived behind his eyes. They almost glowed. They were dancing around, free as could be. They didn’t have a care in the world. They didn’t need to worry about the possibility of their parents not loving each other anymore.
His ears began to ring from the pressure, but it only motivated him to press harder. He liked to imagine that the worms were singing. In a weird, otherworldly sort of way. Unfortunately, despite his attempts at making it louder, it wasn’t enough to drown out the noise.
He began to hum to himself, in a tried and true hymn that they always had them sing in Sunday school. Even with that, it still wasn’t enough to drown anything out.
Or, was it? Both voices cut each other off, quite suddenly. Right along with them, he went silent.
The ringing in his ears began to fade. He hesitated, not quite ready to face them. It was only a few seconds, however, before he forced himself away from the armrest. He could feel the line-like indents that the corduroy fabric had already pressed into his skin.
His eyes stayed squeezed shut for a moment longer, before he timidly opened them again.
His parents had both frozen in unison, appearing to have taken notice of his plight. The room fell into a deep, uncomfortable silence.
“Could we have a minute, bud?” His father’s voice was at an uncharacteristic quiet, as he nodded towards the stairs.
“I think you’ll need longer than that.” His tone was dry. Not in a rude sort of way, but in an exhausted, all too used to everything sort of way.
His mother closed her eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath before turning to face him. “Gregory?” Her voice was stern. “Go see your brother for a bit.”
Wirt.
He was quickly overcome with dread, and excitement. They were a very confusing combination, but one he was quite accustomed to.
He always wanted to be with Wirt. For whatever reason, however, that feeling was not always reciprocated. He usually preferred to be on his own, with his music as loud as their parents allowed. Even so, he usually pushed it with the volume.
Even though it made it hard to focus on anything sometimes, he knew he only did it because he was sad. He was sad most of the time.
Everyone had been sad for a long time.
He nodded, scooping his stuffy into his arms and sliding down from the cushion.
He hurried up the stairs, before he froze on the last few steps. He could feel his mouth getting dry. The sensation was even more confusing. He couldn’t even pinpoint what it was about. Was it Wirt? He loved Wirt. That made no sense. He loved his parents, too.
“All the way up the stairs, please.”
He jumped a bit when his mother called up after him. “Ok, sorry.” He quickly scaled the last few steps, keeping a steady pace until he’d reached the front of his brother’s door.
He could hear the familiar sound of grungy guitar, coming from the radio in his room. Thankfully, it didn’t sound loud enough to prevent him from hearing him.
He held his small fist in the air for a moment, seemingly frozen, before shaking it off and gently knocking on the door.
There was no response. The music remained at a steady volume.
He knocked again, a little harder to make sure he was heard that time.
“Wirt?” He leaned in, his face only an inch or so from the door.
Still, no response. This time, however, he could hear the music getting louder.
“Wirt?” He repeated, a bit louder, this time leaning to where he could feel his own breath up against the white paint.
“Go away.” His brother’s muffled voice was barely audible over the music, but all that mattered was that he’d heard him that time.
“Mom said that I needed to come and be with you.” His voice cracked a bit near the end. He squeezed Robber Racoon’s arm tight. He held his breath.
He was only met with silence. He could only hear him shifting on the mattress, most certainly to face away from the door. “Wirt?” He reached up, and fiddled with the doorknob. Of course, it was locked.
Yet again, no answer.
“Are you okay?” A million scenarios began to rush through his head. He didn’t want Wirt to be sad. If he was there, he was sure he could find a way to make him happy. It was only a matter of time before he found something that worked.
“Mom said to come and see you.” He reiterated again, as he fidgeted with the end of his pajama sleeve.
It was only then, that the perfect idea struck him like lightning. It was exactly what both of them needed. “Do you want to make a fort? Like we did when grandma was here?”
Nothing.
He twisted at the doorknob again. It was still locked. He felt silly for expecting anything different. “Wirt?”
“Leave me alone!” Wirt cried out from the other end, shattering every bit of hope that might have remained in a split-second. “Oh my god- just go away! You seriously don’t have anyone else you could be bothering right now?!”
Greg jumped back, only to be thrown right back to the door when his mother began to scream up the stairs.
His shoulders tensed, as he pressed his fists to the sides of his head. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
Everyone was unhappy. He’d only made it worse.
He tiptoed across the hallway, down to his own room. His mother was still going at it, threatening to rip Wirt ‘a new one.’
A new what? He had no idea. He thought to add it to his arsenal questions for later, but decided against it. Even in his short years, he had learned that some things were better not to ask about.
He removed his hands from his ears, only for a brief moment. He quickly and quietly opened his door, before shutting it behind him.
Still silent, he leaned up against the door.
He didn’t dare to move, for what felt like ages.
Wirt was in trouble. He didn’t want to get him in trouble, even though it seemed to happen time and time again, despite his efforts.
No matter what he did, even if he so much as chewed too loudly, Wirt would say something that would get him in trouble with Mom and Dad.
He hated that.
He tuned back in, only for a moment. His parents were still screaming at each other, having seemingly forgotten all about the ruckus only moments before. He could at least be thankful for that, for Wirt’s sake.
His chest felt heavy. He didn’t like the feeling one bit. He lifted Robber Racoon up from the ground, drawing him close.
Even if he was a convicted felon, constantly on the run across multiple state lines, Robber Racoon never yelled at him. He never slammed the door in his face. He never had any issue with anything he said. He never minded the way his voice sounded, or the overwhelming bursts of energy that had his legs practically bouncing off on their own, much to the frustration of everyone else in the house.
He was sad that Wirt still hadn’t taken him out to catch frogs. It had probably been at least a month since he’d first asked. Wirt was just too sad to be able to leave his room most of the time.
Wirt wasn’t a mean person. He knew that. No brother of his ever could be. That said, he had lots of not nice things to say when he was upset. He knew that all too well.
He’d prayed about it before. A lot, actually. No matter how much he tried, though, God never seemed to do anything.
He didn’t want Wirt to be sad. He didn’t want Mom and Dad to be sad. He just wanted them to all go out and find frogs and drink milkshakes.
Frogs, milkshakes, and family. The three best things in the entire world.
The very thought always made him feel better when he wasn’t happy. It could certainly help them, couldn’t it? They’d get real snappy every time he asked. That only confused him more.
How could anyone hate frogs? Or milkshakes?
He scanned the room, before his focus fell to his bunk bed.
He and Wirt used to share a room, back when things were less confusing.
As much as it upset him, he’d felt a sense of guilty relief when Wirt had moved into Dad’s old office. Even though he had trouble sleeping without him for a good while.
Now, he had the bunk bed all to himself. Wirt had gotten too big for it, anyway. In his absence, the lower mattress had become a makeshift play space, being completely littered with toys and stuffed animals on most days. It was much more comfortable than sitting on the floor.
It would be the perfect spot to nestle into, once the fort was built. He was certainly big enough to do it on his own. At least, he was big enough to try.
He rummaged through his toy box, beaming when he found the same, oversized laundry clips they’d used many months before.
He yanked out the blanket from the bottom bunk, causing his stuffies to fly out in every direction.
“I’m sorry!” He cried out, before smacking his hand against his mouth.
That was much too loud.
He stayed in place, frozen in time for what felt like forever. Thankfully, he didn’t hear anyone coming upstairs.
He was in the clear.
He put a pause on his work, only resuming after all of his stuffed animals were carefully picked up, and placed back on the mattress where they belonged.
The idea of attaching anything to the top bunk was pretty intimidating, but he swallowed down his nerves.
He climbed it every night. Certainly, this would be no different. He was only clipping a blanket to each end, after all.
He scurried up the wooden ladder, careful not to let his socks slip against it.
The end closest to the ladder was a breeze. The further end was all that remained. He hoisted himself up onto the mattress, and crawled over to the foot of it.
Same as the other side, he wrapped the corner of the blanket around the tiny knob at the end of the bed frame, and spread out the clip to secure it in place.
This time, however, he accidentally let go too soon.
Out of complete reflex, he reached out for the blanket.
His breath was cut short, as the side of the hard, wooden bed frame slammed into his ribs.
His hands shot back up, but it was too late. His knees weren’t on the mattress anymore.
He tumbled forward, losing all track of what was up and down. His upper half bounced off of the bottom bunk, sending him plummeting to the floor.
The carpet stung against his face. He could make out three ceiling fans, even though there was only supposed to be one. That only lasted for a second, though. Even when his focus returned, there was a much more pressing matter at hand.
He couldn’t breathe. He tried, with his chest heaving as he gasped for air. It was no use. He couldn’t even cry for help. It was like there was some sort of physical roadblock, completely closing off his lungs.
He knew exactly what had happened. The wind had been knocked clean out of him. He’d only felt it once before, when he’d fallen off the monkey bars at the playground.
He heard the bedroom door swing open. He weakly turned his head, fully prepared to meet fuming, red-faced versions of his parents, but was met instead with something else entirely.
“Oh my god- hold on.” Wirt hurried over, gently scooping him up from the floor.
He only croaked in response.
Wirt, thankfully, seemed to be completely aware of what was going on.
“This is like the playground, remember? I know it probably feels like you’re dying, but you’ve lived through this before.” He swept his hair away from his face. “Just relax, okay? Try to breathe in through your nose.”
The memories of what had helped before came flooding back. The sheer shock had almost made him forget. He relaxed best he could, even though his muscles ached, and was able to get a little bit of oxygen through his nose.
“Perfect. Hold that for a few seconds.” Wirt nodded. “Now make your lips into an ‘O’ shape, and breathe out. Make sure to make it longer than when you breathed in.”
Miraculously, it worked. They did this a few more times, each breath progressively easier than the last.
His back still hurt, but he was finally able to breathe.
“Did that help?” Wirt gently set him down on the bottom mattress.
Greg nodded.
“Good.” His mind seemed to be racing. He could almost see the scenarios playing out behind his eyes.
“Did you hit your head?”
He tried to shrug, but laying on his side made that difficult. Thankfully, he still seemed to get the point across.
“I’m gonna check your pupils, okay?” Wirt reached over, grabbing a flashlight from the nightstand that was strangely shaped like a tiger. It made a somewhat distorted roaring sound when he clicked it on.
He frowned, but didn’t let the annoyance slow him down.
Greg’s eyes squeezed shut as the white light flashed into them. He wondered if he was experiencing what deer felt all the time.
“Stop it.” Wirt snapped through gritted teeth, while forcing his eyelids open with his fingers.
More brief, uncomfortable flashes in each eye, before the flashlight finally clicked off.
“Alright, we’re good.” Wirt sighed in relief. “Don’t worry, we don’t need to call mom.”
Greg nodded, finally gaining enough strength to sit up.
Soon, in direct contrast with all that had come before, he was grinning ear to ear.
He was almost overwhelmed with relief, and thrilled to simply be in the presence of his brother.
He reached his arms out to embrace him, but Wirt only lurched back.
“Please... Not now.” He shook his head.
Greg bowed his head in turn, wringing his hands together. “Ok.”
Wirt exhaled, and turned to face the door.
The adults were still screaming downstairs. They were only growing louder, spewing words and phrases that Greg couldn’t understand at all.
The older boy pondered for a moment, before turning back to face him. “Do you still want to make a fort? I can clip the blankets this time. I think the both of us are going to be stuck here for a while.”
Greg paused for a moment, rubbing his temples. Soon, however, a soft smile had spread across his face again.
Before he knew it, the fort had been built. He felt much safer, while warm and secure beneath the layers of blankets.
“Will you play cowboys with me?” He began to crawl towards his toy bin.
“No, we’re not playing with toys or anything.” Wirt groaned, waving his hand dismissively.
Why anyone wouldn’t want to play with toys was beyond Greg’s understanding, though it seemed to be getting more and more common with people around him.
Still, he snatched up a few action figures from the edge of his stash.
He grinned, playfully poking at Wirt's leg with the plastic sheriff's boots.
Wirt smacked it away, and Greg was frozen all over again.
This time, though, a deep weight of regret seemed to overtake the boy.
“I can read you a story, though, if you like.” Wirt gestured in the direction of the nightstand, that was just outside the barrier they had created. “Just none of those talking train books, please.”
Just like that, they had reached a compromise.
Wirt always preferred the bigger books with less pictures, so Greg kept that in mind while making his selection. Eventually, they settled on Narnia, even though Wirt was very clear about limiting it to only a few chapters for the night.
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was a comforting tale, even if it had some scary parts. His favorite part was always when Santa Claus first showed up, even though he knew full well that they wouldn’t get to it that night. Images of snow, lampposts, and mystical creatures danced around his mind, as his eyelids began to feel heavy. The screaming and plight from earlier were the least of his worries. He could hear his brother yawning alongside him, as he seemed to be growing more and more annoyed with the process of reading aloud.
He was alright with that. He was simply overjoyed that his brother was willing to be around him in the first place. He knew there were probably a million other things that Wirt would have rather been doing, but he was thankful regardless. For both of them, anything was better than what had been going on downstairs earlier that night.
They were spending time together, and that’s what mattered. Finally at peace, and almost on queue with his older brother closing the book, he drifted up to sleep...
That was, until harsh words jolted him awake, muffled through the blankets.
He groggily sat up, gently pushing aside the piles of stuffed animals he’d buried himself in.
He could see Wirt, and their mother. They were standing in the doorway. Their silhouettes were illuminated from behind by the warm, artificial lights that lined the hallway.
He couldn’t quite make out every bit of what they were saying, but he could get a general idea. He knew that Wirt was in trouble. His head was bowed, and he was staring down at the carpet.
He parted the blankets a little more, just to get a better read on the situation. He was frozen in place, however, by his older brother glaring at him.
It was like he had lasers in his eyes. This seemed to push their mom over. “That’s quite enough from you. Get your ass in bed.” She spat.
With that, no sooner than the words had left her lips, Wirt had stormed out of the doorway and into the hallway. His door slammed hard behind him.
Their mother cringed, and it was only then that the two of them made eye contact.
Greg spun around, making a break for the bed. He hadn’t meant for her to see him, but he knew full well that it was too late.
He could kiss any amount of brotherly bonding that had taken place that night goodbye.
For once, things had been happy. Yet, same as before, they’d been cut short before they could truly be anything.
He hated how much Wirt was hurting. All he wanted was to take it away from him, even though he had no idea how that could even be accomplished.
He threw himself onto the bottom mattress, curling into a tiny ball behind the plush barrier he’d created.
Unfortunately, it did nothing to hide him.
“Gregory?” His mother’s voice was soft. He’d missed that sound.
He couldn’t take it anymore. He carefully moved aside his animals, no longer able to conceal his tears.
“I’m sorry, mom.”
She didn’t speak. She made her way to the side of the mattress, before she began to gently brush through his hair with her fingers.
“Please don’t be mad at him.” He cried softly, pulling a plush lamb up against his face.
She didn’t utter another word. She only began to hum, which quickly evolved into singing a soft, all too familiar hymn.
Tears trickled sideways down his cheeks, as he pressed himself further into his makeshift sanctuary.
Both he and his mother stayed the way they were, until he drifted off into another, restless sleep...
“Hey... Hey, Wirt?”
Wirt hushed him, only half awake as he tossed and turned in the snow. “I’m trying to sleep.” He grumbled.
“Ok, you sleep.”
His entire body shuttered against the bitter cold. It was almost unbearable, and only getting worse by the second.
All he wanted was to press up against his brother, just to share the tiniest bit of heat that could be found between them. That, however, was not an option. He was out of time. He had to go.
“I’m sorry I got us lost, Wirt.” His heart ached, but he held onto a sliver of hope. Thankfully, soon, Wirt wouldn’t need to hurt anymore. Maybe, he might even find it in his heart to forgive him one day, after he was safe and sound at home.
His gaze shifted over to his frog, with its lips almost as blue as his were. His heart only ached more.
“Will you take care of Ronald for me?”
Wirt only grunted, turning to face away from him.
That was the best he was going to get.
He glanced behind him, as shadows began to engulf the trees that surrounded the both of them. He didn’t have a second more to lose.
“Ok, I have to go now.”
He forced himself to turn away, dragging his shoes through the rabidly thickening snow.
“Goodbye, Wirt.”
Just like that, all that he loved had disappeared behind him. He’d already made peace with that. He knew they would be alright, and that’s all that mattered.
He walked alongside the figure in the shadows for a long, long time.
Every second that went by, it's presence was less troubling. He could only feel himself growing more and more numb.
A long, shadowy hand gently took his. It felt like smooth twigs against his skin, with indents of various sizes all across the surface. He tried to get a good look at the creature it belonged to, but the snow and darkness that surrounded them only obscured it.
As they went on, the beast began to sing.
He’d heard the song of the trees in the wayward souls many times on their journey through the woods, but this one was different. It was the same hymn his mother sang to him back home. It stirred up a bit of warmth within him, despite it all. He felt his eyelids growing heavy again, but it was welcome. Every bit of cold, and every bit of pain would be over soon.
Amazing grace, How sweet the sound.
That saved a wretch like me.
He closed his eyes, taking a breath as he swayed back and forth. Quietly, he began to sing along.
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see...