Blown Away
He's two-maybe three-the first time he can remember hearing the sirens. The memories are dim, faded with age and life, but he remembers being startled. Remembers sitting up in a room darker than he remembered it being and not knowing what was going on. He remembers crying out for his mom and then he remembers Her. She'd picked him up, whispering that it was going to be okay with that voice he just knew meant everything was going to be okay. Then Daddy had appeared, too quick for him to see as they hurried down the stairs.
They'd spent the night in the basement, huddle against the leaky washing machine together. He kept his arms around her the whole night, and when the sirens woke him again, there was always a hand there to guide him back to sleep. The next morning, as Daddy helped clean up the mess outside, She'd explained what the sirens meant-that whenever he heard them, he needed to get to the basement. He remembered being confused about staying away from the windows, and he remembers a soft warmth surrounding him and a hand tussling his hair. Then the memory ends.
He's eight the second time he hears them, and things have changed. There's no mommy and barely a Daddy. He's got Sammy now, who's only four years old and just as confused as he was the first time. When the noise starts Sammy looks up at him, not to Daddy. All he remembers thinking at the time was Thank God we're renting a house this time and not staying in a motel.
He grabs Sammy and goes to the basement, scoping out the spot between the washer and dryer that was the safest. After he makes sure Sammy's situated, he runs back upstairs for the blankets, games and food he knows they'll need. It's only two in the afternoon, but he wants to be prepared.
He takes Sam to his room when the sirens die down, tucking him into his bed as the streetlights turn on outside. It's when he goes to the bathroom that he sees Dad. John's passed out, empty bottle of whiskey on the floor next to the couch. He doesn't know when he came in, or even if he heard the sirens.
He considers waking up his dad for a split second, but he remembers every fight and all his momma's tears. He remembers every bloody lip and every head-jerking slap when the bottle was involved. He sees the fresh bruises on his arms in the shape of his daddy's hand print every time John walks in with a new one.
That's when he makes his choice.