CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD

THE ROAD CONTINUES

CHAPTER 2

As we drove down the long road ahead, I was settled, slumped, in my seat, starting the new adventure that I held in my hands. As I began to read, I chuckled to myself. From time to time, the chuckles would become audible. I noticed Dean would glance over at me, occasionally, I'm sure wondering what I was finding so amusing. I was getting the rare opportunity to see my life through my brother's eyes. As I chuckled out loud again, Dean once again shot a glance my way as he drove his Baby, listening to his old rock n roll. He reached over and turned the radio down.

"What?" he had asked, a slight hint of my brother's innocence showing in his tone.

"Dude," I chuckled. "I was just imagining you changing diapers." I laughed.

"Hey, I'll have you know my diaper changing game is on point." He replied with pride in his voice.

I chuckled again. "You didn't poison me while you were learning how to make bottles did you?" I asked, imagining my brother taking care of a baby without a clue what he was doing.

"You're still alive, aren't you?"

"You have a point."

Surprisingly, Dean began to talk, to add to my amusement. "Dude," he said, "I would watch every educational show I could find on tv. I taught myself to read from watching tv. I knew I had to learn how to read the instructions on things to be able to take care of you properly."

I hadn't realized he had taught himself to read, and he did it for me!

He continued, "I even watched daytime tv, which I've never understood why people find that crap so interesting, but I would watch it faithfully, every day, to catch scenes of people with babies, so I could make sure I was taking care of you the best I could. You can learn a lot about baby raising from those crazy shows, you know."

I couldn't help but chuckle again, out loud. My brother watching those crazy shows, to learn how to take care of me. He hates daytime tv.

"Of course," he went on, "pictures helped a lot too, there are always pictures with the instructions on things like diapers and formula." He finished.

"Man," I said amazed at the intel I just received, "I didn't realize you did all that, for me." I know I sounded a little shocked.

"Well, you're my little brother," Dean said, reaching over and ruffing up my already shaggy hair, "there wasn't anything I wouldn't do for you, to make sure you were taken care of."

After that statement, a long pause. I started thinking about how much my brother really did do for me, the things I had never realized before. Knowing I was deep in thought about how my big brother took care of me, Dean broke my thoughts, I was startled a little, but turned my head to look at him, interested, hanging on every word he said.

"I found a book, in the trash one time, it was one of those 'your baby's first year' books. I learned a lot from that. I learned how and when to start you on solid food and milk. I was so thankful when I didn't have to worry about formula anymore."

Wow, he really did take raising me seriously.

"Dad was still figuring this hunting thing out when you were taking formula, he would do little jobs to make some money, until he figured out better ways, but it wasn't always enough to take care of your needs properly. He couldn't understand why I refused to allow him to give you certain foods, or even regular milk."

He continued, becoming lost in his own reminiscing, "I learned how to steal like a pro. I could walk in any store and walk out with formula, or baby food, or even diapers and wipes. I would keep my eyes open for places in the towns we went that would give out free clothes and supplies and make Dad take us there every time I found one, they would give us baby supplies that you needed, as well as clothes, since you seemed to outgrow your clothes almost every day."

Dean chuckled, a quirky smile on his face, "I made sure you were taken care of, I kept you happy and safe. What I couldn't steal, buy, or have given to us I would make for you, or go dumpster diving in the middle of the night. I always made sure you had what you needed." Dean completed.

After a long pause, "Thank you," I said, almost squeaking the words out as I was becoming a bit emotional.

Dean looked over at me, staring for just a few seconds before returning his eyes to the road. "I just did what I had to do. I had to make sure my baby brother was taken care of, and that's what I did. No need to thank me." His voice went from a smirky tone to a more serious one, "I did okay with you as a baby… as you got older… well, I didn't always do so good, that's when I started messing up."

He was serious, he thought he had messed up. I was beyond thankful for my brother stepping up and not only being my brother but also a mom and dad. I loved him for that. I never thought he had messed up. I always thought I turned out okay.

I cleared my throat, "Dean, you didn't mess up." I said, again beginning to get a bit emotional. "You did everything you could, in fact, I didn't realize how much you did do for me." I drew in a long breath and continued, "Obviously, you had to figure things out as you went, we both have, and I'm not going to say you were always perfect, no one is, but you were pretty damn close to being perfect."

I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue with the next thoughts in my head, but my brother was talking to me, he was, for once, open and willing to talk. I didn't want to miss my opportunity to find out everything I could, about him and about myself, I wanted to know about the parts of life I was too young to remember. The parts I thought I hated, despised, but I was enjoying hearing about them, seeing things in a different light this time. As I cleared my throat again, pinching the bridge of my nose for just a moment I broke the silence.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" he replied back without taking his eyes off the road.

The sun had begun to go down, darkness was taking over the night. I knew, at least for now, my light to read in was gone, but I had read enough that my head was swirling with thoughts and questions. I continued to ask what I had broken the silence to ask.

"How much did you get," cleared my throat again, not sure of the word to use, so I just used the word I had seen Dean write so many times "punished… for the things you did for me? To make sure I was taken care of?" I knew my words, and sentences, were a little choppy but by the expression on his sunset face I could see he understood what I was asking.

"A lot." he said, once again without taking his eyes off the road.

I could see memories begin to enter his head. Normally, I wouldn't push it, but for some reason, tonight I decided to. "How?" I asked, honestly wanting to know. I wanted to know everything. I wanted to know everything my brother had sacrificed for me.

"Sammy," Dean's tone was slightly pleading for me not to ask, and slightly trying to tell me he really didn't want to talk about it. But, he had promised. So, I pushed.

"Dean, please. I want to know."

I heard him release a sigh, take a few deep breathes, hold them, then release them, as his thoughts ran through his head. Slowly, he began to speak.

"Sammy, I didn't care about all the little things. The more Dad drunk," he paused to clear his throat and continued, "the more Dad would drink, the more he would lose his temper. I don't know what you want me to say, Sammy. He would," another clearing of his throat to push the emotions away. "I'm surprised that I have any brain cells left after how many times I got slapped on the back of my head." He stopped again, to gather his thoughts and keep his emotions in check.

"For what?" I asked, completely engaged in the knowledge I was gathering.

Another sigh and throat clearing before he spoke, "For anything, everything," Dean continued, "if you got too loud, 'keep that damn kid quiet while I'm trying to sleep'" Dean was mocking Dad's voice as he repeated the words he had heard him say on several occasions.

"It was always something with him, I just came to expect that." He continued, still never taking his eyes off the road, I'm sure partly so he wouldn't have to look at me while he spoke. "If the room we were staying in was messy, or smelled like dirty diaper, or if, God forbid, I gave you a bath before Dad got his shower." He stopped on that one, shaking his head, remembering something he didn't want to say through the drawing of his brows and tightness that appeared on his face.

"What does that mean?" I asked, hoping he would tell me what he was thinking. "What would happen if you gave me a bath first?"

"Sammy," again his poor attempt at getting me not to ask questions he didn't want to answer. "Okay, fine." He said. "You want to know? You want to know everything?"

He continued with frustration growing in his voice. "I didn't expect Dad back as early as he came home. It was getting late, I knew I had to get you in the bath and into bed. Dad had gone on one of his drunken nights on the town. We were in some shitty motel room. So, I gave you your bath. It was just a bath, it didn't take much water because you were so small. And, I knew the water would warm back up and be fine for when Dad came back. But, he came back before I expected. I was almost done. I had already cleaned you and washed your hair. I was sitting on the floor, beside the tub, letting you play for a little while before getting you out when I heard Dad come stumbling in. All the noise he was making, I knew he was lit. I was going to hurry and get you out of the tub, so we were out of his way, but I wasn't fast enough. He came storming into the bathroom, yelling, demanding why I had you in the tub, knowing, or I guess him thinking I was supposed to know, he was wanting to take a shower, clean the girls of the night off him."

Dean paused, wiping his hand over his face, then continued. "I started to apologize, tried to explain myself and how I needed to get you to bed. He said he didn't want to hear my excuses. He knocked me on the floor, grabbed me, and slammed my head against the side of the tub. I'm not sure if I lost consciousness or not. But, I remember seeing the long, thick line of blood running from where my head hit the tub to where I laid on the floor. I…"

He drew in a long-ragged breath, "I tried… I tried to continue to apologize, he wouldn't hear it. Every time I tried to speak he would just kick me, or grab my hair and slam my head against the floor. I figured out pretty quick to stop talking. I got myself up, I remember the blood from my head dripping to the floor. I grabbed a wad of toilet paper and stuck it to my head, hoping it would collect the blood so it wouldn't drip on you, after all, I had just cleaned you off. I grabbed a towel, unplugged the tub, wrapped the towel around you and held you tightly in my arms as I pushed my way past Dad and to the bed. The entire time, he was pushing or hitting me. Once I got you onto the bed and out of the small bathroom, Dad didn't follow, I remember…"

He paused again to clear his throat and gather his emotions, I'm sure this time when he wiped his hand down his face it was to dry some tears. "I remember," he continued, "hearing him relieving himself in the toilet. I quickly got you dressed and told you to get up in the bed and bury yourself under the covers. I placed the covers over your head. I told you to go to sleep. To not come out from the covers. I told you it was a game. You had to hide. It was a game of hide and seek from Dad." A small smile came across Dean's face. "You sure did enjoy playing your games." He said. "Sometimes I would tell you it was a game and you would be more than happy to play it, when really, I just needed you to hide from something, or get away from someone."

I continued to listen, continuing to be amazed by the ways my big brother kept me safe. He wasn't concerned about himself. His head was busted open, with an angry dad in the room, and he was concerned about keeping me clean and hiding me so I couldn't get hurt, or worse, so I couldn't see what Dad was going to do. so I didn't have those memories etched in my brain forever. And, he did it in a way that I enjoyed. He still wanted to keep me happy, even if he was going to get the crap beat out of him, he wanted to make sure I was okay.

"It didn't take long after that for Dad to come out of the bathroom," Dean continued. "I knew you were hidden, safe, so I took the rest of his rage like a champ. Then he went and showered. I checked my head in the mirror, getting a rag to place against it to stop the bleeding, and I laid in bed next to you. You were already asleep by then. I knew I didn't feel right, I didn't know what a concussion was back then. But I knew something in my head wasn't right, and I knew I had to be there for you, Sammy. So, I pretended to be asleep, so Dad would go to bed and sleep off his drunkenness, but I remember, I remember because it sure as hell wasn't easy, I remember keeping myself awake the entire night, not allowing myself to go to sleep. The craziness in my head didn't go away at all that night, but at least the bleeding had stopped at some point. I… I just…" his words started to trail off. I could tell he was ready to stop. That he couldn't talk about it anymore. I had already heard what I wanted anyhow, so I was okay with it.

"Dean,"

I had broken the cold silence again. Noticing the night had completely taken over the skies. The darkness surrounding us for hours. My body feeling a bit cramped, Dean was shuffling in his seat too, although I wasn't sure if it was from his emotions or discomfort of the car's seat.

"Yeah," he replied with a low voice.

"Let's stop and get a room. My body is starting to feel stiff and I could use a decent bed to sleep in after those lumpy beds at the last place."

"Sure, sounds good to me. Besides, Baby's gonna need some more fueling before too long anyhow."

We drove to the next town and stopped at the cheapest motel we could find. Parking Baby outside our door, to give her a rest, we both grabbed our duffle bags and shuffled our tired bodies into the room. Ready for another break from the road.