on the seat next to her in a pile saying,
“And when we get home, this one’s for
my brother, this one’s for my sister, this
one’s for my mom.” Then she sits there,
with none left for herself, and smiles,
more excited to give them away than she
was when she was told she could buy
them for herself.
I shot a confused look at my brother,
Stephen, her father, and he mouthed back
“freak.” When Stephen and I were her
age, we cherished nothing more than the
tortured cries of the other. He set my
gerbils free in the backyard. I stole his
Halloween candy and ate it, piece by
piece, sitting on his chest while he
screamed. Who was this saintly creature