Maura

I pull on my hat and wait for Jane.

"Oh she's outside on the front porch, dear," Mrs. Rizzoli says to me drying her hands on a towel.

"Thank you."

I make my way outside and there she is standing on the sidewalk with a sweatshirt on.

"Jane, what about your coat?"

"I'm good."

She hasn't made eye contact yet and that concerns me. I don't say anything else. I take her arm and together we walk around the neighborhood.

"I used to love playing around here. Especially hide and go seek. There are so many places a kid can hide."

"I never played childhood games."

"Never?"

"No. My free time was always scheduled. Ballet, violin lessons, tennis."

"I took dance classes once."

"Really?" I look up at my friend.

"Yeah. I don't remember when I saw it or who showed it to me, but I saw a video of Baryshnikov and I knew right then I wanted to be like him."

I squeezed her arm.

"I even asked Ma if I could sign up for classes. She was thrilled of course because that meant that I was going to be the girly daughter she had always wanted."

"What happened?"

"I took a couple of classes. Made some friends. Had a sleepover or two and then I stopped going."

We make it to a corner and wait for a car to drive through the intersection before crossing. She takes my hand while crossing the street and holds on tightly.

"I was about eight and I begged Ma to let me walk home from class alone. She agreed, to which I was shocked. But really she had Tommy follow me home. I had caught up with me we when were three blocks from the house. He had asked me then why was I doing that girly stuff. I was his 'kid brother'." Jane smiles at the phrase. "As we pass the St. Ignatius rectory, he pulls me to the side. I ask him where we're going and he tells me to just walk. He's my big brother so why wouldn't I obey him. I had trusted him with my life, so why would this time be any different. But it was."

My muscles tense up not liking what Jane is telling me. I am fearful of what occurred next but I must know what was done and I can't rush Jane in telling me her story. My eyes have been on her the entire time and hadn't noticed that we stand in front of St. Ignatius. We climb up the steps and Jane opens the door. I silently follow her to the last pew and watch as she takes her crux fix from under her t-shirt and kisses it before entering the wooden seat. I'm a scientist and believe in the big bang theory rather than God's creation so I haven't been to a church in a while. Not since I was an adolescent. I look around as Jane bends a head in prayer. The architexture is beautiful.

"Tommy pushed me up against the wall and screamed in my face that 'no kid brother of mine is going to be a pussy and take ballet lessons. I was a boy, so act like one.' He punched me in the stomach. I couldn't breathe. He slammed my head against the wall. I know I hit the ground but after that it's all a blur."

"Jane?"

"He told Ma and Pop that I had a fight with a kid while walking home. That when he found me, he kicked the boy's ass. He saved the day."

Pause.

I want to touch her to show that I am with her. But I stay still, waiting.

"Why didn't you tell the truth?" I ask.

"I was terrified of what he would do if I did. I should have told them then when I had the chance. The beatings became an almost daily thing, depending on how badly he had hurt me."

"How long did Tommy hit you?" I'm afraid of what Jane's answer might be.

"'Til I was 11, 12. By that time, Frankie was six and he started bullying him. I doubt if Frankie even remembers this. The first time I saw Tommy hitting Frankie, I fought back. I couldn't let Tommy do what he did to me to Frankie."

"I'm proud of you, Jane."

"Proud of what?" she looks up at me from her bowed position.

"For sharing this secret with me for one. And for being such a good big sister to Frankie."

With tears slipping from her eyes, Jane looks at me and says, "Thank you for listening."

"I will always listen to you, Jane and not judge you."

I reach out and wipe the tears away with the pad of my thumb.

"I love you and will always listen and never judge."

Her head meets my shoulder and I hear her release a strangled cry. The wetness of her tears soak the collar of my sweater as she moves closer to my body, seeking skin. I hold her as her cries echo throughout the quiet church.