Warning: Emotional chapter!

Chapter 2: A Talk with Skipper

About a week after Mum's funeral, I was having trouble sleeping. I couldn't stop thinking the accident. Moreover, after the funeral, Dad had been acting strange. He'd come home from work really late. When he returned, he'd look as though he had trouble walking. I'd try to ask him if he was alright, but he'd ignore me and go into his bedroom. One time I tried following him in, but Skipper stopped me, saying that we shouldn't disturb him.

I tip-toed out of my room, and headed for my brother's. I quietly opened the door and peered in the room. I rolled my eyes at what I saw-litter, clothes, books, and what not-all over the floor. Does he ever clean his room? I wondered.

I walked around the debris and up to a sleeping Skipper. "Skippa?" I whispered (my accent made all my "er's" sound like "a's"). No answer. "Skippa?"

"I'll cream you, Blowhole," he said in his sleep.

I laughed a little. Denis Blowhole was Skipper's rival in karate class. Denis was jealous of my brother, because Skipper was always better than him at karate, but just a little bit. Until that moment, I hadn't realized that Skipper dreamed about him!

"Wakey, wakey!" I sang.

He slowly sat up and looked at me. "Private?" He looked at the clock on his nightstand. It was 1:47. He turned on his lamp and returned his attention to me. "Can't sleep?" I shook my head. "Worried about Dad?" I nodded. He moved over and patted on his bed, signalling me to sit down, which I did. "What's on your mind, bro?"

I sighed. "Dad hasn't been himself, since Mum's passing," I told him.

"I know."

"He's been coming home late and walking funny."

"I know."

"And he's been so distant from us, as if he doesn't," I almost didn't want to say the next part, "want us around, anymore..." Skipper didn't say anything. "Skippa?"

He nodded. "I know." There was a pause, then my brother spoke. "Private, do you know why Dad's been acting so strange?" I shook my head. "Good. It's his own business. Listen, I know you're worried-I am, too-but worrying isn't going to anything. Our father is a good man. If he's acting like this, then he has a good reason. Everyone has a reason for doing what they do."

I smiled. "You're right, brotha." I was about leave, but then I saw something I hadn't noticed before. Something that worried me a good bit. "Skippa, you have a cut on your cheek!"

Skipper looked taken aback, but then he shrugged. "Shaving cut."

"That's ratha long for a shaving cut."

"Well, that's all it is," he assured me. "Nothing more than a mishap with a razor."

Normally, I would have accepted that answer. But I saw tears in my brother's eyes. "Skippa, what happened?" I asked gently.

"Nothing," was the answer.

"Skippa?"

"Nothing."

"Skippa?"

"Nothing, b*tch!" I gasped and fought against the lump forming in my throat. Skipper had never snapped at anyone, before! Especially not me... The anger in his eyes changed to sorrow, and he wiped away his tears. "I-I'm sorry, Private..."

"Why did you call me that?" I asked, not meeting my brother's gaze.

Skipper sighed. "I don't know..." A pause, and then, "It's not a shaving cut..."

No kidding, I thought sarcastically, but I stopped myself from saying that. I looked at him. "Then, what happened?"

Skipper didn't answer right away. "Dad... He... H-he..." Another pause. Then, Skipper wiped away more tears. "I don't understand why..."

I didn't know what to say. Why would our own father have done something like that!?

Skipper closed his eyes. "Dad's been drinking." My heart stopped for a moment. "I can tell, because it shows in his actions, and I...caught him with a bottle, the other day." If I wasn't sitting down, probably would have fainted. "Drunk people can't think straight, that's why they do bad things. Physical wounds heal, Private."

"What about emotional wounds?" I asked.

"Emotional wounds..." he sighed, and I was worried he'd start crying, but he didn't. "Emotional wounds stick with you, forever."

I felt a bit dizzy, but shakily stood up. I was heading for the door, then I stopped and looked back at my brother. Emotional wounds stick with you, forever. Those were so full of despair, that I was surprised they came from my brother! "What did Dad say to you, Skippa?"

Skipper didn't seem to hear me. Instead, I heard him say things that broke my heart. "I'm not fat. I'm not stupid. I'm not...I'm..." He burst into tears, and I knew that there was no way I'd be sleeping that night.

That last part (the stuff Hans called Skipper) made me a little sad, but review anyway!