Tailspin (Better Than You) Read Online Free PDF Page B

it feels like it poured into me; deep into my soul and stained it darker.
    “Who’s hungry?” I ask, trying desperately to distract myself from letting the madness take over. When I’m by myself, I can poke at it, decide how much of a threat it is, but right now I have to be strong.
    An hour later it’s just Joshua and I, sitting in front of the TV eating salty Chinese food. Emily went to Cora’s to study, after a lot of pushing, and now I’m beginning to think it was a bad idea to be left alone with the silent punishment of Joshua. When I hear a voice close to me, much clearer and more real than the voices from the TV, I begin to wonder if maybe I’m already going insane. But as I look over to my left and at Joshua, I see him watching me closely, tears in his bright blue eyes. And then the most miraculous thing happens. His mouth opens and words pour out; four little words that have been running through my mind since the night Mom and Dad died.
    “It’s all my fault.”
    I look at him for what feels like hours. I memorize every part of his face; blue eyes, small, bird-like lips so red that some might think he wears chapstick, cheeks still puffy with baby fat, and pointy chin. So much like Mom. Just like me, yet he’s a stranger. When was the last time I looked at him? What words have I spoken to him recently? When I can’t recall an answer, I know that the statement he previously made is all my own. Still, I don’t know what to say.
    “They were in a rush because of me. It’s all my fault,” he says, the words barely above a whisper, his voice hoarse with inactivity.
    I have to take a deep breath to keep from letting the madness take over. It swirls on the outskirts of my mind, black and powerful and enticing. “Joshua,” deep breath, “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
    “I cried. I made you bring them home. I was a baby.”
    The carton of fried rice is no longer in my hands as I turn to grasp Joshua’s small shoulders; shoulders that I can’t remember being so thin. Has he been eating? Or has this idea been eating at him? “What happened to Mom and Dad is not your fault. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s me. I called them. I couldn’t handle you being sick. It’s not your fault. ”
    Tears roll down his cheeks as he looks into my eyes, holding my stare as if forcing himself to believe my words. I hope he does, that my words can take his pain away. “They loved you so much, Joshua.”
    He drops his eyes, head bent towards the couch. “I feel like I can’t remember them anymore.”
    My breath catches as I try to keep the tears out of my voice. Me too, I want to say, but instead say, “It’s okay to let go, buddy. They wouldn’t want us living like this.” I gesture to the house around us, realizing that we’re living like they’re still here. The picture frames hanging on the walls, the plaques with sayings and the candles and the damn fruit bowl on the kitchen bar. Everything just as they left it. Like they might come back.
    “They would want us to move on, to be happy.”
    And with that, I stand and take Joshua upstairs with me. He helps me move my stuff from my room to their room, tells me where I should put my TV and whether I should just use their bed or not. When Emily comes upstairs and finds us on the floor in our parents’ room, with photo albums covering every inch of space between us, she drops to her knees and touches her finger tips to a picture of Mom. “She was so beautiful,” she whispers.
    “You look just like her,” I say and Emily meets my eyes with a smile.
    We spend the rest of the night sitting in a triangle with our lives spilled in front of us, finally ready to let go of the guilt and grief and pain and ready to continue living it.
     

6
     
    September 7, 2007
     
                  When I finally got the balls to make the call, the card was barely legible, all of the letters and numbers worn away from the constant in and out