As the news of my brothers having girlfriends sinks in I feel a familiar cloud descending on me. It's only happened a few times but I tend to close in on myself with the thoughts and words crashing round in my head. Different situations trigger it, this time I'm not sure what it is, jealousy as I wasn't on the trip to Portland where Elliot and Christian met these girls, frustration as mom met her last week and never mentioned it, anger as everyone seems happy but I can sense big changes to our tight knit family. To cap it all they are coming to our home tomorrow evening, I mean Christian has never brought anyone here before and Elliot only occasionally.
I sit there, lost in my thoughts, no words will come out. No one picks up on it straight away as they are all in their bubbles of happiness. Eventually mom asks with concern if I'm ok, I give her a sad smile and shake my head, shrug my shoulders and get up to leave the table. Dad shouts at me to return as not everyone has finished, but I can't as I know the tears will fall and I don't want them to see me cry. I stand outside the room trying to stay calm and taking deep breaths to control my emotions. Dad is furious, we all normally do as we're told first time when he asks and I know I'll have to apologise for showing him disrespect by ignoring him. I'll also be expected to apologise to everyone for leaving the table without permission, it's not the done thing at our family dinners. We sit down as one and leave as one, and to leave before is pushing the boundaries. I remember Christian doing it once and he was grounded for a month and missed out on a trip to New York. Oh what have I done, dad will probably put a stop to my surfing trip to California and I'll be lucky if I can leave the house next week to go to work. I hear Christian ask mom 'if it's happening again and should he come and speak to me' but she tells him to relax it will be ok. I flee to my room, slam the door and collapse on the bed. I'm in enough trouble so a door slam will only add to my misdemeanours but I'm past caring.
The 'it' that Christian was referring to is me descending into my own world. I communicate by nods and shakes of the head, shrugs, smiles and other facial expressions. The words stay in my head and do not come out of my mouth. I think I shut down so as not to show my emotions and it's my way of coping without revealing what I'm feeling. I don't socialise with my friends instead preferring my own company. The family can gauge my mood with the tunes that I spend hours playing on the piano when I'm home, or they'll find me now I'm older at the pool completing length after length in the monotonous lazy freestyle.
'It' has only happened about five times as far as I remember, the shortest time being six days and the longest four weeks. I think the first time started the day of mommy and daddy's funeral; everyone was being extra nice, tiptoeing around me to try and not cause upset, and asking if I was ok. It was easier to shrug or stare wide eyed rather than them hear the emotion in my voice. After a week or so with no words mom had asked me if I wanted to help with the baking, when I replied in a hoarsely whispered 'yes' her eyes were shining and she had the loveliest smile, she affectionately ruffled my hair and we spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen. Mom asking questions, me replying with one word answers, but as the days went on the one words became a few words and before long I was happily chatting away to everyone including myself.
The second time it happened I can still picture the scene vividly. I was seven. On Friday evenings after dinner Christian, Mia and I would wait outside dad's study. One by one we would go in to discuss with dad our week and almost have to justify to him why we deserved our pocket money. If we'd done something amazing he might give us extra, however if we'd misbehaved he would reduce the amount accordingly if give us any at all, though he liked us to negotiate and reason with him. If we were successful we would retain our weekly allowance. Mia always went in first as she was the only girl. This particular Friday she came out full of smiles, she'd almost doubled her allowance after passing a cello exam with distinction and being awarded a certificate at school for helpfulness and politeness. I was in next as the youngest boy and Mia was a hard act to follow. I knocked and entered and then stood in front of dad's desk. He glared at me coolly and I gulped instinctively wondering in my seven year old brain what I had done wrong. The list was endless, had I really done it all in just one short week. I'd sneaked into Mia's room to try out her new nail varnish that she'd been boasting about but I'd ended up knocking it over on the carpet. In Christian's room I'd drawn cartoon characters over his homework that needed to be handed in the following day. In the back yard I'd skateboarded across the patio knocking over plant pots, and then ridden my bike through the flower beds and bushes. In the kitchen I'd dropped the cereal box all over the floor, followed by the orange juice carton and I'd just left the sticky mess without any attempt to clean up or tell anyone so they could do it. At school I'd dipped Hannah's pigtails in a paint pot, given the whole of Jonty's arm a tattoo with permanent marker and got into a fight with an older boy because he called me 'shorty'. To say dad was cross was an understatement, I hung my head in shame as he bellowed at me about how he expected better of me. I had no words to reply or negotiate. On and on he went and I just stood there. I finally heard the words 'you can leave now' and I looked up staring bleakly at him feeling like a failure. He shook his head in disappointment and I turned and left with nothing but my conscience. As I closed the study door I glanced at Christian who grimaced at me in sympathy. I crossed the hallway and climbed the stairs with a heavy heart, then flung myself on my bed and let all the emotion out, huge gut wrenching sobs. But I didn't feel any better when the tears dried up. The words didn't come out for four weeks.
The next Friday I went into the study and stood in silence, thinking my dad was ashamed of me. I wanted to look at anywhere but him. Again I waited for the words 'you can leave now' and I left once more with nothing. Mom wouldn't let me go back in the next few weeks. Whilst the others went in she held me back, hugging me tightly and kissing my copper coloured curls murmuring quietly to me that she wanted her happy little boy back. It was Christian who finally got me to talk; he was so patient, teaching me new tunes on the piano, reading bedtime stories to me, taking me out on the water in the rowing boat and playing computer games. The day I spoke we'd been in the garden; he was teaching me new moves in kickboxing when I connected with his foot harder than he intended, I cried out in agony, sharp pains shooting up my leg. He was so overcome with concern, he carried me to the living room, shouting mom on the way. Over and over again he kept repeating how sorry he was, obviously distraught and near to tears himself I reached up and stroked his face and then said 'it wasn't your fault'. My silent world had ended for now.
Now I'm older Christian has joked a couple of times about how he beat the words out of me and also how dad was a complete soft touch during those few weeks as if he was feeling guilty at giving me such a hard time. Apparently for a long time afterwards Mia and Christian used to toss a coin to see who would go into the study after me on Fridays because whatever they had been up to in the week I always made them look good with my mishaps and mischievousness.
The other few times happened sporadically over the years for incidents that are hardly worth remembering; Christian exploding at me in anger when he discovered I set up my new spy wear gear that I'd got for my birthday in his room and could hear him on the phone to someone. Mia experimenting with my hair and dying it a funny green color so I had to have all the curls cut off, I think she traumatized me too often, especially with make-up and nail polish.
I stand at the window, looking out across to Seattle. I don't know why I'm getting upset by all the recent events. Am I frightened by the changes that might be happening? I hear Christian and Elliot shout goodbye as they leave. Mia can be heard happily chatting on the phone to one of her friends. I hear the click of dad's study door and as I turn mom is there, a tight smile on her face. There's no need for any words now as she embraces me in a loving hug and rocks me as I sob.