Movement II: vita e morte

Virgil stood on his toes to look into the small bassinet that held his new baby brother. He was small. Smaller than Virgil had thought he would be. Of course he really didn't have anything to compare him to—he couldn't remember Gordon being that small, he was always crawling and walking and getting into trouble.

This new one couldn't do any of those things. He just lay there sleeping. He was wrapped up in a blanket, a red knitted cap on his head—though a lock of light brown hair was sticking out. Virgil wondered if he would be brown headed like Scott, or another color entirely since none of them had the same color of hair as it was.

He reached over the edge of the bassinet and touched a finger to the little one's small red nose. His whole face was red and flaky, but oh so soft. He let his finger slide down his small stubby nose and along his cheek. He couldn't help but giggle when the baby smacked it's little lips and its small eyes opened just a hair to allow the dark blue eyes to peek out.

"Hi, Alan. I'm your brother, Virgil. Well, one of them at least. I'm the only one called Virgil, though, the other's have different names." Virgil continued to smile as the baby smacked its lips a few more times and then closed his eyes. "You sure do sleep a lot. Must be hard being born."

"It is very difficult."

Virgil pulled his hand out of the bassinet and turned to see his mom lying in the hospital bed watching him. She looked just as tired as his new brother did, though he didn't quite understand why. He had been told that the baby had come from his mom's belly, which would explain why it had grown so much—he just didn't understand how the baby came out.

"What do you think of your new brother?"

"He's small and soft." Virgil glanced over at the clear bassinet, the bundle inside sleeping peacefully. "Was I ever that small?"

His mother laughed a little. "No, you were the heaviest of all your brothers, Gordon was the smallest."

"Smaller than that?"

"Yes, he was born a little early."

"Oh. So Alan will grow up to be my size eventually?"

"When he's four, yes, something like that." She sighed heavily and looked around the room. "Where is Gordon?"

"Grandma took him out to the playground, he was going crazy."

"Didn't you want to go too?"

"Someone needed to stay with you and Alan." Virgil frowned a little. He did kind of want to go, but he didn't want to leave his mom alone either and with Scott and John still at school and their dad still in space, he was all that was left.

"Thank you." She smiled again, but still looked really tired. "You want to come up and lay with me?"

Virgil hesitated for a minute but nodded and crawled up onto the bed as carefully as he could.

"Just don't push on mommy's tummy just yet, it's still a bit sore."

Virgil nodded and curled up along one side, his head resting in her armpit. "Grandma said I have to share a room with Gordon now."

"Are you mad?"

"A little."

"Why?"

"Gordon's annoying. He'll get into my art stuff, and won't leave me alone."

"That is probably true, but it's for that same reason he can't share a room with Alan."

"Yeah, I know." Virgil snuggled closer to her and sighed.

"You are his big brother. You need to let him know what is and isn't okay."

"But I'm not as good a brother as Scott is."

"Well, Scott's had a bit of practice. You're Alan's big brother now, too. You need to practice on Gordon so you know what to do once Alan grows up a little."

"I'll try." Virgil wasn't too sure. He liked Gordon sure, but he could get so annoying sometimes.

"Mommy!" Gordon ran into the room, his face red with the cold.

"Hi, Gordon."

"I want to lay with Mommy too!" Gordon was already climbing up the bed before anyone could say anything about it.

"Gordon, be careful, you're hurting Mommy." She grunted as Gordon had put a hand on her stomach along with some of his weight as he tried to get up next to her head. "Ruth—ow, Gordon!"

Virgil carefully crawled off the bed while his mom and gran dealt with Gordon. He went back over to the bassinet and looked inside it.

Alan was awake now, his blue eyes wide as they looked around.

"Don't worry, I'll keep you safe from Gordon." Virgil was up on his toes again and reached over, tapping his finger on his little nose.


The room was white. It had always been white. His brothers' rooms were white too. Virgil had always hated it, hated only having bits of color here and there. But their father had said no to painting their rooms. However, their father was gone again, and his mother had decided to paint Alan's room something different. Virgil had helped her paint the small room a bright red and had so much fun he begged her to let him pain the other rooms.

She had agreed, though she hadn't realized just what she had agreed to. Virgil didn't know his littlest brother yet so red was a good color in general. He knew his other brothers though, and one color wasn't going to be enough.

He was standing to the side of his big brothers' room—a lot of their stuff had been moved to the middle and their furniture had been covered. They were away at school, unaware of what was going on. Gordon was with their grandma doing errands, and baby Alan was in his room sound asleep.

"Alright. You ready?" His mother had just walked in with a can of paint, and paintbrushes in her hands.

"Did you get the special stuff?"

"It's in the hall. Enough for both rooms like you asked."

Virgil couldn't help but bounce in excitement. "You think they'll like it?"

"I bet they'll love it." His mother smiled at him as she popped open the first can of paint—a light blue. "Let's get started, there's a lot of work to get done."

It took them all day. Alan had woken up several times forcing his mom to take a break so she could feed him and change him and get him to sleep again. Virgil kept working during this time, doing his best to paint around the doors and windows while his mom did the big part of the room. He had a steady hand for a four-year-old but still had quite a few spots where he got paint where he wasn't supposed to. His mother was never mad though, she praised him even when he got a large splotch of dark blue in the middle of the door which they just rounded off and painted his brother's names in with some left over red paint.

Their grandmother collected John and Scott after school, keeping all three boys until after dinner—treating them to some fast food and an evening at the park to keep them happy. It was finally nearing seven o'clock when they heard the door open and Gordon's screech echo through the house.

"Looks like we finished just in time." His mother had an arm full of the cloth they had used to cover the furniture and winked down at him. She had paint all over her face, and clothing. Virgil wasn't any different and smiled up at her. He was just putting the last of his own things back into place when Alan took that moment to start crying again. His mother hurried out of the room to tend to him just as John and Scott were making their way up the stairs. Virgil followed, closed his door quickly and ran down the hall to block his brothers from going into their own room.

"Virgil, I have homework to do." John sighed as he tried to push his way past Virgil.

"Homework? You have to color a picture." Scott laughed coming up behind him, "Hey, what's that?" He was looking up at the small circle with their names on it.

"I guess someone thinks we're going to forget where our room is?" John giggled a little.

"You can't go in until Mommy gets here."

"She's busy with Alan." John smile faded a bit as he looked down the hall towards Alan's door where their mother had just appeared.

"Go on and show them, Virgil." His mother was in the doorway, Alan busy eating.

Virgil nodded and opened the door rushing in and turning around so that he could see their faces.

His two brothers stepped through the door slowly, their eyes wide and mouths hanging open.

"Did you do this?" Scott asked as he threw his bag on his bed looking around.

"Me and Mommy." Virgil beamed.

"What is that?" John was pointing to a picture over Scott's bed. "A bird?"

"It's a plane!" Virgil frowned at John.

"It looks like a bird." John laughed a little.

"Is that Dad's plane?" Scott seemed to ignore both of them as he looked closer at the drawing.

"Yeah!" Virgil turned away from John beaming again. "What do you think?"

"I think the room is brilliant. The clouds are great, it looks like we're in the middle of the sky!" Scott reached down and picked Virgil up squeezing him in a big hug.

"It is pretty neat. Better than just white, but—" John had slung his book bag onto his desk and sat down in his chair.

"Oh! Wait!" Virgil wiggled his way out of Scott's hug and shut the door. He had a big smile on as he reached up and flipped the light switch off.

They were cast into darkness for a moment until their eyes started to adjust to the light that was left. Stars and planets covered the ceiling and walls around them.

"I used some of your books. I hope you don't mind." Virgil was still standing by the door, but was looking over at John.

John's eyes were wide again, his mouth open, but he wasn't saying anything.

"I mean, I tried. I even tried to put the stars in order. Mom had to help, well she did most of them, but I helped." Virgil was looking up to the ceiling at the constellations that covered it. He hadn't seen John move, but suddenly he was there, just an inch taller than he was, and hugging him tightly.

This took Virgil by surprise, John didn't like to cuddle like the rest of them, so a hug from him was something special. Virgil reached up and squeezed his brother back. "Do you want to see what we did to me and Gordon's room?"

"Sure!" Scott was next to him already opening the door as John finally let go and ruffled Virgil's hair a little.

They went down the hall and made their way into Virgil and Gordon's room.

"Since your room is sky and space, we did something different for ours." His room was a bit more detailed than his brothers. On Gordon's side the scenery was of the beach and a bit of ocean. The scenery changed as it went across the room so that Virgil's side was covered in mountains with a cloudy sky above them.

"This is awesome, Virgil!" Scot was in the middle of the room turning in a circle trying to take it all in.

Neither room was perfect, there weren't any shadows and very few details to the drawings—it was obvious a young kid had done a lot of the painting, but it was still better than the plain white the rooms had been before. Virgil stood in the middle with the biggest smile he could muster.

"You should have done something with the glow-in-the-dark paint in here too." Scott was next to him, a hand on his head.

Virgil just smiled more, if that was even possible. He ran over to the door and yelled down the stairs. "Gordon!"

It was only a second later that they could hear the troublemaker scrambling up the stairs. He ran into the room and stopped, dead silent for once. Everyone laughed, but it was only for a moment before he started running around the room screeching in approval.

"Scott, keep him in the middle." Virgil went over and closed the door, then checked to make sure everyone was near the middle of the room and turned off the lights.

Once again they were cast into darkness until their eyes adjusted. Instead of planets, stars and the beauty of space, they were cast into the depths of the ocean with fish and sharks all around them. There was even a squid above Gordon's bed that looked like the stuffed one he carried around.

"Yay!" Gordon squealed as he picked up his pace and was jumping on and off the beds in excitement—stopping every time he was on his own bed to stretch up and kiss the squid on the wall.

"Alright, time to calm down." Their mother was in the doorway, Alan in her arms. "Scott, you need to get your homework done, John too."

"See, she called it homework." John stuck his tongue out at Scott.

"Come on, let's go." Scott just shook his head and led John out of the room.

His mother knelt down in front of him, Alan up against her shoulder. "It looks like they approve. You did good."

"You helped." Virgil was still smiling as he reached up to touch Alan's head. A small burp escaped the small body and Virgil giggled.

"We did it together." She pulled him into her free arm and hugged him tightly. "Now go get yourself a snack, you deserve it. Then a bath."

Virgil laughed again as he made his way downstairs, Gordon following.


His parents were in the living room talking about him again while Virgil sat in the hall just outside of the room. Alan was sitting on the floor in front of his mother playing with a rattle he alternately put in his mouth and then waved through the air, hitting himself and his mother with. He was a verbal baby, babbling away constantly, though still not as annoying as Gordon.

"I think it's time we sign Virgil up for some recitals." His mother flicked one of the shiny toys that hung above Alan and he cooed as he reached up for it.

"Why does he need to do that? He hasn't even been learning for a year yet."

"So he can show off, plus it'll be over a year by the time the recital comes around.

His father laughed, that low chuckle of his. "More like so you can show him off."

"Well, maybe, but he wants to do it too. He needs to see where he is compared to others."

"Competition, I can understand that."

"It's not a competition, just a showcase."

"And it costs five-hundred dollars to sign him up?"

"The fees go to renting the hall, and paying for the workers."

"I suppose that is necessary. When is this recital?"

"In December, just before Christmas. You should be home then, right?"

"I should." The squeak in his father's chair started up again. "He'll be going into kindergarten this year, won't he?"

"Yes, and he knows how to read and write his name already—and simple math."

"Good. Good. Still, I don't want this music thing to come in the way of his schooling."

"Do I really need to bring up the articles and show you again? They were peered reviewed, need I remind you."

"No, no. I trust in your word, and I know you're work is flawless." His father held up his hands in defeat, but wasn't apparently done arguing. "However, making sure they have a good basis in the STEM subjects is just as vital. If he spends all his time practicing his music, when will he do his homework?"

"He will do his homework after school, and then practice. He knows that's how it's going to be. Anyways, like I said, Virgil may not go into the sciences like you'd like him to do. Maybe music and art are his career paths. You don't want to staunch those talents and lead him down a path he may not be happy with."

"I want to lead him down a path where he'll make good money and be able to support himself."

"One recital isn't going to kill his opportunity to get into MIT or Harvard."

"I was thinking more along the lines of Yale, actually."

"Jeff."

"Alright." His father laughed a little, still smiling. "He can do the recital. But I don't want him to be doing recitals every month or something silly like that."

Virgil jumped to his feet and dashed upstairs. He didn't need to hear the rest of the conversation, he was going to play in the recital and that was enough. He jumped onto his bed and grabbed at the pamphlet he had hidden under his pillow. He couldn't read most of it, the print was really small, and there were a lot of big words. He did know two of the words though, piano recital. There was a picture of a young boy, probably older than himself, sitting at a piano playing on a big stage with lights everywhere. He couldn't wait to do that himself. He wanted to play for people, because his mom said his playing would make people smile, and he wanted to make as many people as he could just as happy as he was when he played.

It was just a few weeks later that Virgil was off to school, and he didn't quite get what was so great about it. Scott had made a big deal about walking John to his class and their mother took him to his. John was now in first grade and he was in kindergarten. It was nice that there were other kids around him, kids other than his brothers that was. Virgil made friends fast and even those that seemed to distance themselves from the kid who knew everything, eventually warmed up to him as well.

Kindergarten was all about learning to read, write, and count. Virgil knew how to do all of that. He wasn't as good as his brothers—John was reading at a third grade level, Virgil was only reading at a first grade level. But a lot of his classmates were just starting out.

More often, Virgil could be found at the back of the classroom—there just happened to be a piano there. When the rest of the class was busy learning basic reading skills or numbers, Virgil would wander to the piano and play. Nothing major, just some of the nursery rhymes they would sing in class and sometimes what he could remember of his piece he'd been working on since the beginning of the year. At first the teacher scolded him for getting on the piano, but in the end, the sound of it soothed some of the students who were otherwise struggling with their work and eventually came to rely on it.

Virgil never played during writing practice—he knew how to write his name, but nothing else. He also never played during art. That was one of the two reasons he never complained about going to school. He loved art class and music class of course. His art teacher would sometimes let him play with the finger paints, while the rest of the class was still limited to crayons. His music teacher would let him sit on the bench with him and help him play while the rest of the class sang. This was how he learned several of the nursery rhymes he'd play for the others during class.

Soon, fall had turned to winter and it was time for Virgil's recital. He had made invitations during art class and handed them out to all the students in his class—they were nothing more than rough squares of paper with his name, the word recital, and a picture of a black piano. The teacher then had to spend the next several minutes explaining what a recital was, and handing out more formal invitations his mother had sent with him. He didn't know if any of his classmates would go, but he hoped so.

Finally the night of his recital was there and Virgil was nervous. His mom was with him behind the stage. Everyone who was playing were forced to sit in a large room in the back, waiting for their turn. His brothers were in the audience, his grandma and father with them.

"How are you feeling?" His mother was sitting next to him, his music in her hands.

"Okay." Virgil wanted to curl up, pull his knees to his chest, but he had to sit properly so he wouldn't wrinkle his new suit.

"It's okay to be nervous." She reached over and put an arm around him.

"What if I mess up?"

"Then you'll mess up. No one is perfect. Just do the best you can do. I'll be proud of you regardless."

Virgil nodded and took a deep breath.

Soon it was his turn. He stood on the side of the stage, his mother behind him. The piano was in the middle of the stage, big and black. Virgil had his music in his hands, and they were trembling. He felt the push of his mother from behind and stumbled a little as he made his way out onto the stage. He had sworn he wasn't going to look into the audience, but found his eyes flicker toward the darkness anyways.

He found his family easily, they were only three rows back in the middle—Gordon was already sleeping, but everyone else was awake and watching. He swallowed and finished the long trek to the piano and crawled up on the seat. He reached up and put his music on the stand, but a page fell and fluttered to the ground. He could hear someone laugh in the audience, and felt his cheeks burn.

His mother ran out onto the stage and collected the page, setting it back with its fellows for him before giving him a quick pat on the shoulder and then back off stage again.

Virgil took a deep breath, his eyes closed. Slowly he opened them again, his concentration only on the music before him. He laid his fingers on the keys and slowly started. His fingers felt stiff, his shoulders ached. He forced the music out, though, and as he played he started to forget the audience and all the eyes watching him. It started to become easier, the music flowed from him.

He messed up multiple times, though. He was only five after all. His hands were still small and sometimes it was hard to stretch them out to get to the notes he needed. He played too fast at the beginning, and then slowed down a lot near the middle—still needing to look up at the music and pausing when he forgot what note was what. He kept speeding up on the refrain and missed notes he had known by heart only the day before.

When the last note rang out in the auditorium there was silence. Virgil was afraid to look, afraid to even move. The silence seemed to last for ages, but slowly someone started to clap, then another, then more. Soon the room was filled with applause—and a few whistles and screams from certain brothers.

Virgil let out the breath he was holding, grabbed his music, and slid off of the bench. He turned toward the audience and bowed like his mother had taught him and then jogged off the stage. She was waiting for him, squatting down with her arms open. He crashed right into her, a smile on his face and tears in his eyes.

"How did I do?"

"You were wonderful! Don't you hear the applause?"

He did, but he still couldn't believe it was just for him.

"Excuse me." Virgil looked up to see a woman standing behind his mom. She looked strict, like the principle at his school. her hair was pulled back tight and her smile looked a little mean. "My name is Sara Vogel. I'm a recruiter with the Kansas City School of Music. Your little one there has quite a bit of talent."

Virgil clung to his mother's skirt as she stood up to shake the hand offered to her.

"Yes, and he's only been playing a little over a year."

"Has he now? That is quite impressive. How old is he?"

"Five. Just started Kindergarten this year." Virgil tightened his grip and his mother reached down and held his head next to her.

"He has quite a bit of potential then. Have you ever thought of sending him to a music school?"

"I've thought about it, but we're not from here. Home is a good four hours away. Trying to get him to a music school wouldn't quite work."

"I see. There are scholarships available that might help. We have students that live in the city during the week and go home on the weekends. Their scholarships pay for their room and board."

"He's only five."

"Well, of course you would go with him."

"And I have four other sons."

"I see, maybe when he is older then. In the meantime, I encourage you to visit our site, and maybe look at our summer programs." The woman reached into her purse and pulled out a small white card.

Virgil watched as his mother took the card and looked at it, still smiling at the strange lady. They exchanged a few more words before the woman finally walked away.

Virgil tugged on his mother's skirt getting her attention. "What's a music school?"

She knelt down next to him again, her hands on his shoulders. "It's a place where you would learn a lot of music. More than what I can teach you. Would you want to do something like that?"

"Yeah!" Virgil smiled his eyes bright. A place where he could just learn music would be like playtime everyday.

"Come along, once we get home I'll talk to your father about it."

"No! Absolutely not!" Their father's voice echoed through the house.

Virgil was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs listening in on his parents' conversation. They had been going at it since they had returned home, and Virgil was afraid of what would happen.

"What's going on?" Scott was behind him, John on his heels. "What are they arguing about?"

"Me." Virgil was hugging the railing, failing to keep his tears in. "A woman offered to let me study at a music school."

"A music school?" Scott seemed shocked at this. "And you want to go?"

"I thought I did, but I didn't think it would make Mom and Dad yell like this." Virgil sniffed and leaned into Scott as he sat down next to him.

"Jeff, he wants to learn music, this would be the best opportunity! There are scholarships out there that would help with the money."

"This isn't about the money!" He could hear his father stomp on the floor. "This is about family. Yes, a scholarship would support you and him, but what about your other four sons? They'd have to stay here without their mother."

"Your mother could help with them, or she could live in Wichita with Virgil."

"And then he'd be without his mother. Are you really wanting to split the family up?"

Virgil popped up as the implications of what his father was saying hit him. "Why is he saying that, Scott?"

"There aren't any music school near here." John offered from where he sat behind them. "If you were to go you'd have to move to a big city, while we'd stay here."

More tears started to fall down Virgil's cheeks. He jumped from the step and ran into the living room jumping and grabbing his mother's waist as he did. "I don't wanna go to that music school! I don't!"

She knelt down and pulled Virgil to her, his little body shaking with grief. "But you said you wanted to go."

"I don't want to leave my brothers or you. I want to stay here." He could feel her sigh and her arms tightened around him.

"Then you don't have to go. You can stay here."

Virgil couldn't stop the crying, or the sobbing. The thought that he wouldn't see his brothers again had been so sharp, the pain just wouldn't stop.

"Shh, it's alright."

"Virgil." It was his father, he was down near him now, his arms around both him and his mother. "Nothing will take you away from us. I promise."

There was a shift, as his father moved over a little, one arm leaving him, he wasn't ready for them to leave him yet, and the tears started to fall harder again.

"Come along, you two."

Suddenly Scott was there, and John too—though he wasn't quite hugging, but he was there with his hand on Virgil's head, petting his hair. Then suddenly there was a shout and Gordon was riding their father's back, laughing his head off.

Virgil choked a bit on a sob, a giggle escaping. He loved his brothers, and his parents. He didn't ever want a reason not to be with them. They sat like that for a very long time, until Gordon had gotten bored and wandered into the kitchen looking for cookies, and Virgil had finally calmed down—curled up in his mom's arms.


"Do you have to go?" Virgil was holding on to his mom's pants as she stood in the driveway, a car waiting to take her away.

"We've been over this." She knelt down in front of him, little Alan just over a year old in her arms. "I won't be gone long, just a little over a week."

"I still don't want you to go."

"Mommy!" Gordon ran up to them and jumped into his mother's empty arm. "You don't go. I won't let you."

She sighed again as she bundled Gordon up on her other hip, opening the middle for Virgil to squeeze in. "It's unusual for you to be so clinging, Gordon."

"He had a dream last night that he couldn't find you." Virgil squeezed his way in next to his mother and buried his face in her chest.

"I see." She smiled but wrapped her arms around them as tight as she could. "I promise I'll be careful, and I will be back. I don't break my promises."

"No!" Gordon shook his head and seemed to cling even tighter to her.

"Gordon, dear. I have to go."

"No!"

"Gordon, come to Grandma."

Virgil stepped back as his mother stood and tried to pass Gordon off to their grandmother.

"No!" Gordon just screamed even louder.

Grandma took Alan, as Virgil continued to cling to his mother's leg.

"Gordon, let go of your mother." His father was there, he would be there all week as well. He was prying Gordon's fingers off of her shirt and pulled him away from her.

"No!" He continued to cry, tears running down his normally happy face.

"Maybe I can put it off?" She had a hand toward him, a frown on her face.

"No, you can't. You've already put it off three times now. Twice for this reason alone. He's just not used to you not being here. He'll survive, I promise."

"I-I guess. If I can I'll come home early though." She reached over and hugged both their father and Gordon who was still crying loudly.

Virgil hesitantly stepped off to the side as his mother squatted down again and pulled Scott and John to her. "Scott, you help you grandmother, okay?"

"Yes, mom. I'll try not to let her burn down the house while cooking." Scott smiled, though it was a sad one, none of his brothers were too happy about her going away either.

"Scott! Shh—don't let her hear you say that!" They both laughed a little. "John, you behave and promise that you'll not stay up till one in the morning reading."

"Yes, mom." John was crying a little too, though he kept wiping his eyes with his arm to try and hide it.

It was the first time Virgil could ever remember their mother leaving for any length of time.

"Now, remember, Grant will bring you home next Monday."

Virgil latched onto Scott as his mother stood once again and walked away with their grandmother.

"I remember. He's badgered me into going out to eat before we leave."

"Oh, he probably wants to take you to that one restaurant he likes."

"Well, it will be the last time for awhile. I can't thank you enough for moving back."

"It's the least we can do. Raising five boys on your own is not easy, plus I want ample opportunity to spoil my grandsons."

"I'll have to keep my eye on you then." They both laughed and hugged.

"Scott." Virgil had a hand twisted in Scott's shirt. "Mommy will come back, right?"

"Yeah. She will." Scott pulled him close with one hand, while the other held John's.


"How is everyone doing?" Their mother's torso was floating above the kitchen table, their father and grandmother sitting and talking to it.

"A bit mellow to be honest." Their grandmother sighed.

"What's the matter?"

"Gordon is still going on about how you're not coming back. Haven't had a laugh or a smile out of him all week."

"I knew I shouldn't have left."

"Dear you needed to go. Don't blame yourself for your son having withdrawal."

"How are the others?"

"Same. Going about their business, but I think with Gordon the way he is, it's brought the whole house down."

"You're not helping Jeff."

"I know, I'm sorry." He chuckled a little.

"Well, they'll be happy to know I'm coming home tomorrow. I've convinced Grant not to go out to eat. He's going to enjoy his last meal while I'm at my last meeting. So I'll be home before they even get out of school."

"Just let us know when you take off. I'll come out and meet you at the airport."

"Will do. You two take care and tell the boys that I love them."

"We will."

Virgil sighed and leaned back against Scott. They had both said hi to their mother when she had first called, but stayed behind to listen to their parents' conversation.

"Mom really will be home tomorrow, right?" Virgil could feel Scott squeeze him a little as he rested his chin on his head.

"Yeah, she promised remember."

"Yeah."

"Hey, don't let Gordon get to you."

"I know, but he's been having nightmares all week."

"Has he been keeping you up? We can switch beds if you want."

"Nah it's okay. He just crawls in bed with me and cries himself to sleep again. Plus I wanna be a good big brother."

"Well, you're doing an awesome job so far." Scott ruffled Virgil's hair again and then stood. "Come on, sooner we head to bed, sooner Mom will be back home."


Virgil felt numb. Of course he had been numb ever since his father and grandmother had gathered the five of them in the living room to tell them about the accident.

That had been almost a week ago. Yesterday his grandma came into his room and stuffed him and Gordon into the nice clothes they had gotten for his recital. They then drove them into town saying that they were going to say goodbye to their mother and grandfather.

Gordon wouldn't go. He just screamed and fought until someone offered to sit with him and Alan in another part of the building. Virgil wanted to go with Gordon too, but his father already had his hand and pulled him into the room.

The room was filled with empty chairs, and there were pictures being played on a screen on the wall. There were also all kinds of flowers all over the room. In the front were two boxes. He was told they were in them, forever asleep. His father had offered to pick him up so he could see, but Virgil shook his head and backed away. He didn't like that room, didn't like the way it felt.

He watched as Scott reached his hand in the box calling for their mother and crying. John looked, but didn't touch, constantly wiping the tears from his own face. His grandma was at the other box, leaning over and it looked like she was talking to his grandpa which confused Virgil even more. After Scott walked away, his dad did something similar, though he just cried and called her name and other things Virgil didn't quite catch.

After a long while people started to show up. They lined up and walked by the boxes looking at his mom and grandpa, and then talking to his dad and grandma. They stood there for a very long time nodding and saying hi to those that greeted them. Eventually John disappeared, and as soon as Virgil had seen him leave, he followed.

He didn't know where John had gone, but he just went into one of the empty rooms and sat in the corner. He didn't understand what was going on. He didn't want to be there, but he had nowhere else to go.

He wasn't sure how long he was there before someone found him. It was his teacher. She sat down next to him and offered him a cookie, which he declined—he wasn't the least bit hungry. She didn't say anything, but just sat there. He was kind of glad of that. He didn't know what he was supposed to say to people—felt that if he opened his mouth he would just start crying again.

She sat with him for a long while, finally asking if she could hug him. Virgil just shrugged. So she laid one arm around his shoulders and gave him a quick squeeze before standing and walking away.

Virgil didn't remember a whole lot after that. His father showed up and dragged him back into the room and onto a chair. They sat there while people talked about his mom and grandfather and everyone cried around him. He was then packed into a long car and they drove somewhere. The boxes were brought out again, though shut this time, and everyone stood around them while more people talked. They then went to another building where they had a lot of food, though Virgil still wasn't hungry and just messed with the food on the plate he had been given. He fell asleep at some point, not even remembering being carried to the car or tucked into his own bed.

When he woke up the next day Gordon was curled up next to him—his cheeks still wet with tears. Virgil did his best to wipe the wetness away, but seeing his brother made his chest hurt worse than it already was. He took in a ragged breath as tears once again started to fall. He buried his face in his pillow so he wouldn't wake Gordon and finally allowed himself to cry.

He had fallen asleep again, and when he woke Gordon was gone. Virgil sat up in his bed and looked around but the room was otherwise empty. He flopped back down and curled up under the blankets again. He didn't know what time it was, and really didn't care. His stomach growled a little, but he just curled up tighter and ignored it.

"Virgil?" His grandmother was by his bed shaking him a little.

Virgil rubbed his eyes and sat up, not realizing he had fallen asleep yet again.

"You okay?"

Another shrug. He really didn't know how he felt. Just not right.

"I know. I feel the same." She sighed as she reached out and ran her fingers through is unkept hair and along the side of his face.

"Will it ever stop hurting?" It was just a whisper as he tightened his hold on his torso.

"That's a very big question." She sighed again and pulled him next to her. "I'm afraid the answer is no. You'll always miss her and you'll always be sad when you think about her. However, the feeling will change a little over time. It will still hurt, but—well, I'm not sure if it gets easier or if you just get used to it."

"I don't like it. I just want Mommy back. I want both of them back."

"Me too." She held him for a bit longer before letting go and leaning past him. "I brought you a sandwich and something to drink. I don't think I've seen you eat since yesterday morning."

"I'm not hungry."

"I know, but you need to eat. Please, for me?"

Virgil hesitated for a moment before he sighed and took the offered sandwich. He looked at it for a long second and then took a bite, and then another. Before he knew it, it was gone. He had been hungry, even though he didn't want to admit it.

His grandmother let him be after that, and Virgil thought about laying back down and going back to sleep. The food seemed to have woken him up though so he crawled out of bed and down onto the floor. He pulled out his drawing stuff and looked down at the half finished drawing he had started for his mom. It was going to be a picture of them in the field she always took them all to to play. The field had been finished, and he had started on the figure of his mom.

He stared down at the picture and then grabbed the paper and crumpled it up, throwing it against the wall. It bounced silently and landed on the floor next to his bed. He flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling, but the fluffy clouds did nothing for his mood. Finally he stood up and left his room behind.

He walked down to his brothers' room in hopes that maybe one of them could help distract him from his thoughts. He knocked lightly on the door, but there was no response. The door was cracked open so he pushed it open some more and peeked in. Scott's side of the room was empty, but John was sitting at his desk, working on something.

"Hey, John?" Virgil frowned when he didn't get a response and walked over to his brother and tugged on his sleeve a little. "John?"

John jumped and pulled a headphone from his ear. "What?" His voice was a little short, and he sighed as he looked over at Virgil

"Do you want to play?"

"I don't have time to play. I'm doing my homework."

"But we're not going to school this week."

"Still needs to be done." John sighed again and put his headphone back in. "Look, I don't feel like playing. Go find Scott or Gordon."

"Okay." Virgil sighed and left.

He made his way down the hall and into his baby brother's room. If Alan was there, he knew he could talk to him without being turned away, but the one year old wasn't in his crib. So, Virgil made his way downstairs.

He found Gordon and Alan together in the living room, both asleep in the playpen. Scott was nearby, sitting on the edge of the couch looking out the window.

"Scott?" Virgil walked up to him and tugged on his sleeve.

Scott just pulled his arm away and turned away from Virgil a little.

"Scott!" Virgil pulled on his sleeve again.

"Virgil, go away!" Scott shoved Virgil aside sending him down on his rear.

Virgil sat for a moment shocked, and soon the tears started. He snuffed and tried to stop them, but they just kept coming.

"Why are you crying? I'm so tired of hearing everyone cry!" Scott stood and stomped back up the stairs, slamming the door to his room.

The noise had woken up both Gordon and Alan who in turn started to cry on their own. Tears were still streaming down Virgil's cheeks as an argument started above them.

"What the hell is going on out here?" Their father was in the living room now, his face red, a glass in his hand. "Can't everyone just shut up for once!"

"Jeff! You're one to talk!" Grandma was pushing herself past his father and leaned down into the playpen to pick up Alan. "Shh… It's alright now."

It was too noisy, way too much for Virgil. He stood, wiped his face and ran past his father—though he could feel his father grasp for his arm—he slid out of it and out of the door. He ran, he wasn't sure what direction, he just ran.

When he stopped he just flopped down in the grass and cried again. He wasn't too far from the house, he could still hear Scott and John out of their open window, and the lower voice of his father probably arguing with their grandmother.

It wasn't enough that they had lost both their mother and their grandfather, but now everyone had to be upset and mad at each other. He hated it.

Virgil hadn't heard the screen door slam shut, or the sound of his father walking up to him, but jumped when his hand landed on his head.

"Virgil, you okay?" His father lowered himself to the ground with a grunt and shook his head, "Of course your not, stupid question."

"You said there was no such thing as stupid questions." Virgil sniffed and wiped at his eyes again.

"That is true. So, you okay?"

Virgil shook his head causing his hair to whip around his face a little.

"But it's more than your mom and grandpa?"

Virgil nodded and pulled his knees as close to his chest as he could.

"Come on up here." His father was patting his lap.

Virgil hesitated for a moment, but then crawled up against his father's chest.

"Everyone is hurting as I'm sure you know." His father pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him. "And we are all hurting in different ways. Our tolerance for things is a lot less than before."

"Tolerance?"

"We can't deal with things like we did before. We're all a bit of a mess."

"But why does everyone have to yell and be angry?"

"Because we're confused, and everything just—hurts."

"I can believe that." Virgil snuggled closer to his father burying his face in the day old white shirt, smelling the amber liquid that had been in his cup, probably all night.

"It will take time for us to settle down." His father sighed and tightened his hold a little. There was a pause and the slam of the screen door again. He could feel his father turn a little to look behind him, but then turned back and buried his face in Virgil's hair. "I promise you, no one means anything they've said. Scott will eventually apologize for knocking you down, and yelling at you. John will apologize for not paying attention to you. It just may take awhile."

"I don't like it."

"I know. Neither do I."

"What can I do to help?"

"Take care of yourself first off." His father lifted his head and looked down at his face. "If you think you're doing okay, then help others. Gordon and Alan could use some distractions. Play with them if you're up to it."

"What about John and Scott?"

"Don't take what they say to heart and help distract them as well. See if John will take you out stargazing. Ask Scott about flying."

"I'll try."

"That's all I ask. But remember, you are your first priority. If you don't feel like playing don't make yourself. Just like everyone else, it'll take time."

Virgil nodded, but didn't say anything else. They sat there, father and son, for some time. Virgil couldn't help but wonder just how long it would take to be back to normal, or what normal would mean. Their mother was no longer there. Their father was. Grandma was going to be around more, but without their grandfather. It just wasn't right, it wasn't normal. He wasn't sure if they would ever find normal again, but he hoped they would at least find each other again because if he didn't have his brothers, then there wasn't anything else worth having.