Chasing Butterflies Read Online Free PDF

Mom had carved a path in the worn carpet. Dad had shown his disapproval at me making Mom worry with a fist in my face. That was the main reason I’d wanted sunglasses that day.
    After, I was forced to clean my vomit off the floor with a stern warning to Mom by Dad to let me do it. Once I finished, we’d left in Dad’s truck for the show the army put on for lost soldiers. I sat next to the window as Mom laid her head on my shoulder. The bruise on my eye forgotten, it would be explained later with a made-up story about my teenage need to fight. I didn’t care what lies Dad told. My brother was gone, and I wouldn’t get him back.
    I hated my life, the one I was forced to live. My father took out his frustrations with life on Mom and me. And she loved him too much to leave him. If that was love, I wanted no part of it. It didn’t make sense that love should hurt so much. And losing my brother was proof.
    In death, Sandy was treated like a king, including a five-gun salute. I spent my time holding Mom up as she cried like the only person she ever loved had died. And maybe that was true. I hadn’t given her anything to be proud of in the last couple of years. I tended to get in trouble at school, using the pent-up anger I had and aimed it at others.
    It was business as usual when it was over. It seemed so unfair that the one person in the world I’d looked up to was gone. And why hadn’t the world stopped in pause? Why weren’t the streets littered with people outraged that one of the good ones had been ripped from this world while protecting them?
    Instead, Mom went to work that night, explaining bills still had to get paid. The only spending I saw was when we stopped at the liquor store to get Dad more beer on the way home.
    A part of me wanted to steal one from him and find that place where care no longer mattered. But I hadn’t liked losing part of my memory to the drunken haze. So I sat outside, away from my father’s line of sight.
    I sat on the back porch alone and dreamed of a life like those on TV, with a father who cared and wanted me to succeed. With a mother who didn’t work her ass off, but stayed at home to make warm meals. And a brother who wasn’t six feet under. I wanted just one day to live a normal life without fear, without going to bed hungry because it was better not to be seen. And going to the kitchen meant I might be fed a knuckle sandwich instead.
    In the days to come, Mom picked up a day shift as a waitress to make up for the loss of Sandy’s income. On a rare occasion I saw her, I pleaded my case.
    “Mom, I can get a job.”
    She cupped the side of my face. “No. Promise me you’ll finish high school no matter what.”
    There weren’t many things Mom asked of me, so I easily said, “Okay.”
    Then she forced my hand open. “What?”
    I felt the cool metal in my palm and realized she’d given me Sandy’s dog tags. “You should have these.” When I started to protest, she put a finger to my lips. “He would want you to have them.” I slipped the chain over my neck, and would wear them every day that would come after.
    Knowing he wore them made me feel close to him. And maybe somehow all the strength he possessed would leak into me. I missed him like crazy and didn’t want to spend the summer in my head. So, I found relief working construction.
    My coach hooked me up with it, and I’d been working my ass off with many side benefits. I was growing out of my scrawniness, picking up lean muscle with all the manual tasks, like lifting, I was given. Also, I was able to give Mom whatever she would take from my paycheck. More importantly, the time spent working meant less time thinking about my dead brother. Because he hadn’t been home in a while, I could pretend in my head he was still overseas, not buried in some cemetery.
    One afternoon, I’d gone to the deli down from my worksite to get lunch and met a cute redhead. I was sure she’d make a comment about my eyes, which was the