- You were hatched, like a bird.
- The yard is a Confederate graveyard.
- Peter ran away.
- Mom used to be tan, like a sunflower, like a stick of butter.
- Pregnancy frazzled her up.
- You were a mistake, an accident.
- We had it harder than you.
- The old house was bigger, filled with walls. It burned down when we were visiting Aunt Paula over in Charleston. Smoke, Bear and Charlie all died in the fire. We found them under the table, suffocated in our kitchen.
- Dad and Mom used to go out for dinner. They’d come home happy and drunk.
- Dad said this house would have a pool.
- We used to sail Lake Michigan. Dad owned boats the size of states and we’d float out every Fourth of July.
- The adults stayed topside and we sat below deck, trading cards and stealing drinks of rum. One time, Sammy got plastered and threw up on the walls. Mom said, “Oh Sam, dear, you’re seasick.”
- When Dad says, “I’ve spent too many days in the Navy,” he means: “Nobody wants to see your mother in a bathing suit.”
- In Michigan, the winters are brutal.
- Our neighbor, Big John, used to plow our driveway. He’d show after every big storm. We dug caves in the piles of snow.
- One day, Dad and Mom both got stuck in our driveway and Dad walked over to give Big John hell. Apparently, Big John had shot himself; he’d been lying around dead for weeks. That night, Dad got drunk and told us about it.
- He said, “Some things people just weren’t meant to see.”
- Dad used to say work was easy, he used to sell houses and buy out companies. We used to be rich, you know?
- Mom used to work before she had you. She was a hygienist and cleaned people’s teeth.
- “Teeth say a lot about a person,” She used to say. She made us brush three times a day, made it our duty to floss.
- Mom was a general at war with cavities, with junk food and all things unsafe.
- When Sammy broke his arm on the diving board, he told everyone he’d dodged a train. Mrs. Stein pulled mom aside at parent teacher conferences and recommended he see a counselor. She said, “Karen, I’m sorry, but it’s a lot for a boy.”
- Dad used to have people over. They’d stay up all night and keep us awake. Sometimes, Mom would throw us parties. She’d make costumes and was always dressed in this or that. We always had something to do.
- Peter was our sidekick. We called him Little Pete. Stinky Pete. Peter Cottontail.
- Peter liked to play basketball, more than even you. Dad put together a little hoop in our driveway. He set up cones and painted lines, gave Peter a place to dribble, another to shoot.
- Peter died instantly.
- Sammy found the spot where his head exploded. A brown and faded stain on the concrete. Sammy chalked it off like one of those investigators you see on TV. There was so much blood, you would of puked.
- Mom quit her job and put together puzzles. We’d help her sort pieces by color and shape. Sometimes, she’d lean back and pet our heads. She’d smile and say thank you. Other times, she left the room.
- On Christmas, we got her a Ten Thousand Piece. A big old puzzle of a man and a river and a canoe. She put it together in one afternoon, had it framed by New Year’s Eve.
- We played Pillowball. The puzzle marked the end zone—the spot you passed to score points. You could play Pillowball one-on-one, or three-on-three, but it had to be odd. Sammy played unfair. He’d climb the furniture and rile up our dogs. He’d run behind them, use their bodies to block. It was a rough sport and Sammy was brutal. He was Mr. Pillowball. Pillowbowl MVP.
- You would have never made it.
- One day, Sammy tackled our friend into the wall and broke mom’s puzzle. We stood around liked we’d killed someone, shot that old man and stole his empty canoe. Dad swept up the pieces and tossed them out.
- “It’s all a waste of time,” he said.
- Mom never went back to work, not even when Dad lost the business. She took to sleeping all day.
- You can tell a creditor by the pause on the phone. Dad told us never to answer, but we knew how to play it smooth.
- “Wrong number,” we’d say.
- Dad used to say money was pretend.
- “I’m bankrupt, not broke.” He’d tell us.
- We moved down South because it was cheap.
- “Prudent,” Dad said.
- The heat was less bad up in Michigan. You could play outside all day and nothing ever dried up.
- The old house sold cheap because of the fire. It was nothing, just a little smoke. We packed everything and Dad gave away our dogs. There were so many boxes—so much space we could’ve used.
- Dad gave Peter’s stuff to Goodwill.
- “For folks that might need it,” he said.
- Mom dragged boxes out of Peter’s room. They were full of rink-dink T-shirts and stuffed animals, X-men comics Peter thumbed through. Cyclops was Peter’s favorite. He shot lasers from his eyes. He would blink at us real hard and chase us around. “Zap! Zap!” he’d yell. And then: “You’re dead!”
- Dad’s truck backed right over him, killed him with his car
- Sammy saw it.
- Dad yelled like a rocket or something. He jerked Sammy away by the arm.
- “Do not come out here,” he told us.
- We stood tip toe at the window and saw brake lights, a blue sky, three poofy clouds.
- Sammy coached Peter at basketball. He’d have him shoot free throws and run drills. He kept Peter out later than he was supposed to. The basketballs you have come from Peter, your hoop used to be in Peter’s room.
- When Mom hauled out the last of Peter’s boxes, she lied on the carpet and cried. Dad hugged her like you would a dog, like a sick person squirming in bed. “You killed my son,” she said.
- Dad cupped his hands over Mom’s mouth and pushed down like he was giving her face CPR. She squirmed and shivered and globs of her snot slimed down the back of Dad’s hands. Dad drove his palm down into her nose.
- We watched them and didn’t do a thing. What do you think we could even do?
- The drive down here took two whole days. We lived off Cheetos and chips.
- Dad got a good job when the markets straightened out, when people started spending money and buying houses again.
- Mom got pregnant and cooped herself up.
- We collected detentions like tickets at the arcade and were sons at the foot of a bed.
- We had it harder than you.
- Looking out, Lake Michigan is as big as the Pacific. You would never believe it’s a lake.
RYAN SHEK is an MFA candidate at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. A graduate of Western Michigan University, he’s worked as a journalist, a factory hand, a farmer, a dishwasher, an editor, and now an educator. He’s lived in the Midwest and Deep South and writes stories about Southwest Michigan.
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