Iridescence

9.1.11

4. Mother's Carnation Lips

It's my birthday. I'm supposed to wake up with this feelgood attitude, spreeing through the tangerine leaves that littered or assembled on our front porch and backyard.

My body shouldn't be scalding to the touch, I shouldn't be a coughing fit, tuckered out. On my tenth birthday!

It's been six birthdays since Dad left.

So it's my sixth birthday without Mom.

And I have a fever of one hundred seven degrees.

My skin's so hot that the tear that streams from each eye is emotionless.

I hear the door open and swipe my hands over both cheeks once. My brother enters, balancing a bowl of chicken soup, a tall glass of water, and a capful of medicine onto Mom's favorite breakfast-in-bed tray, chesnut-wooden and teeming with pretty painted flowers.

"Here, Al," says Brother with a smile. "This'll make ya feel better." I sit up in bed as he sits down, careful setting the tray in my lap. "Take the medicine first."

I wrinkled my nose at him. "I don't wanna..."

"Come on, open wide," he insisted. "Here comes the train!"

I scrunched shut my eyes and downed the bile stuff, quaffing my water and then swallowing mouthfuls of soup. Once I finished and the spoon clanked inside the empty bowl, I noticed Ed looking pretty wary. When I asked him what was up, he looked like he was biting his finger and was staring at my mouth.

"What?" I demanded this time.

Ed looked me in the eyes and replied, blushing very slightly, "I noticed...You have Mom's lips, that's all."

Almost taken aback, I managed to giggle. "Yeah, you look like Dad, I look like Mom. Minus the hair, of course..."

"Yeah," Ed murmured, fingers grazing his lips again. "I've got his lips alright."

I was a bit embarrassed to ask Ed this next thought, but I was curious. "Do you remember when Mom kissed our foreheads every night?"

Ed only nodded.

"I miss her," I whispered, more to myself than Brother. I closed my eyes to think on her more but found myself slouching back against the pillows, feeling my fever diminishing and my eyes drooping. The medicine was working fast...

The last thing I registered was Ed whispering something to me and his lips caressing my forehead.

I think it was, "Happy birthday, little bro."

Al's birthday in the fall feels so in character to me - it give me myself a carefree, jumpy feel. :)