Suzie’s House 323 : Brother Blunder

It was such a simple mistake. Emma forgot she wasn’t allowed to sing. Not anywhere that her brother might hear, at any rate. She came home from the practice room rental audition feeling like someone special.

She imagined herself a diva. Fans would scream and beg for autographs as soon as they saw her. Body guards would surround her and an agent would do everything he could to make her happy just so she would keep on singing.

She’d have a dressing room to herself. Every day it would fill with flowers. She imagined herself squirting mist into her mouth to keep her throat flexible while wearing a diaphanous gown. Then she’d burst into glorious song.

Swept up in the fantasy, Emma burst out with the chorus from Trust the Destruction. Right there, in the tiny hall by the front door, she just belted it out.

As soon as she heard the footrest of the easy chair go down with an angry boom, she knew she’d made a mistake.

Her brother must be home.

Three stomps later and his fist drove into her gut, taking her breath away. Emma dropped to the floor, tears already leaking out of her eyes. She gasped, desperate for air. She had to get it together. Freeze. If she didn’t move, she had a better chance of not getting hurt too much. She concentrated on breathing and holding still. G*d willing he wouldn’t notice the accidental crying or her overwhelming desire to cringe.

“Don’t sing,” he said through his gritted teeth, putting his face way too close to hers even though he had to bend over to do it. “How many times have I told you? You can’t sing, so cut it out.”

She nodded vigorous agreement. “S-s-s-sorry. I, I, I won’t do it again.”

“Better not.” He started to straighten up, then reversed direction and grabbed her shoulder. A digression? But no. Someone must be watching.

“Emma? What’s wrong?” Mom came out of the kitchen with a dishtowel in her hands.

“Nothing, Mom,” her brother answered for her. He gave Emma a hard look. “Emma tripped and fell is all.”

Emma clamped her mouth closed. She was supposed to agree with him here. In the past, she’d been pummeled for failure to back him up. But lately she’d found it harder and harder to do. The injustice at the core of her family rankled like never before.

He gave her shoulder a bruising squeeze as he lifted her to her feet.

“Well, dinner’s ready. Come eat.” Mom gave her a worried look, but turned away.

“I… I’m not hungry,” Emma muttered as she headed for the bathroom. G*d help her if she threw up before she got there. Bro hated that even more than when she tried to sing.

“Don’t be that way,” Mom said, but Emma ignored her.

When she had emptied out everything in her stomach, she tip-toed into her bedroom while wildly fantasizing all the ways in which she would like to murder her brother. It was the usual assortment of ninja attack, poisoning, and Lizzie Borden.

There was a deep bruise around her stomach already starting to rise. Just as the previous one had finally gone to green, too.

“Emma, come to dinner.”

“Look what he did to me, Mom. Just look.” Emma pointed at her stomach.

“I know, but what can I do about it? You know what he’ll do if I try to punish him for it. It’s not like I can guard you twenty four hours a day. Just don’t bait him. Everything will be all right if you don’t bait him.”

“Isn’t…” Emma caught her voice rising and suppressed it. “Isn’t he supposed to move out?”

“We tried, but he came back. What can I do?”

“Call the cops,” Emma muttered to herself, and got a slap on the arm for it.

“He’s your brother. Treat him with respect. Now, will you come to dinner?”

Emma shook her head. There was no way she could keep anything down right now, even if her stomach hadn’t hurt.

“Well, all right then.” Mom went out to be a part of the family sitting around the dinner table.

Emma sat in her room for a little while, but it felt too much like a prison. She could feel the attention of her mother, father, and brother as if they were aliens beaming their displeasure through the walls. She couldn’t take it anymore.

Just like so many times before, she slipped out the front door and headed for the old, abandoned house a couple of blocks away. She could sing all she wanted there. No one ever complained, let alone hurt her. She could be as loud as she wanted in the hollow rooms with the weird acoustics. She could be free there. She could sing whatever she wanted in whatever way she wanted.

A dirge. Today she would sing a dirge to for her brother.

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