Chapter 1: Road Trip

Chapter One:

Road Trip

I have always hated being stuck in a car for more than a couple hours, and being from California, and the thought of having to drive to New York because we couldn’t pay for plane tickets. But all of them together at the same time, you didn’t want to be near me. I have three brothers and one baby sister, so I am the middle child. It seems as if I always get stuck in the middle of all the fights for no reason. I really hate it. It also seems as if, because of my siblings, that I get blamed for most “accidents.”

 For example, while we were driving down a deserted road, the oldest of us all (Noah) threw the second eldest’s book out the window, claiming that he (Josh) should “stop being such a nerd all of the time.” When my parents finally realized what had happened, my mother made my dad turn around to get it. Noah then twisted the story and I ended up having to walk out of the car, dig in the bushes to get Josh’s stupid book, and climb back in. I had to do this, all of this, while I had nothing to do with (not even a word) on the subject. But I didn’t complain, I never complain. I am the quietest out of my whole family, even my dad. My little brother (Aaron) had slept through this fiasco, only waking up when I reached over him, handing Josh “How to Kill a Mocking Jay.”

My baby sister was also sleeping, but luckily she hadn’t woken up yet. Rose was the sweetest little baby I had ever seen, especially when she was sleeping. I had cared for her and been there for her ever since the day she was born, as I will always be. I feel like I have the most responsibility for her, but I don’t mind. I love her, and I knew the moment I held her for the first time in my arms that no matter what happens when we would get older, we will always love each other. I have done more for her than my mother has, but that’s no surprise. My mother has a very hard life to deal with. She had two jobs to help keep food on the table every supper, working late at night and very early in the morning. She barely saw her children, and when she did she couldn’t have one-on-one time with all of us. We are used to it, it’s not her fault.

We all helped out around the house, cleaning, doing chores, making and preparing food, helping with each other’s homework, and getting each other ready for school that was right down the road. One of us had to stay and help with Rose, though. But we had that covered. My dad only had his job at night, so by then we were all home from school to take care of her.

 I remember over-hearing my parents’ conversation late at night last summer, when they had both gotten home and had finally sat down for once that day. I was in bed, but wide awake, listening to the sounds that played outside and the tired voices of the people who gave up everything for us. The crickets sang the song of their people, and the frogs bellowed and communicated with each other through their throats. The stars twinkled and the moon shimmered off of the lake right out my window. I lay on my back, breathing heavily between the dust on my sheets and my allergies. I listened to everything around me, all of my senses were alert and in progress. They started talking about financial problems and money and kids. This pretty much is the definition of life, I have learned from the masters.

“Frank, I need at least enough to go to the market this weekend. I know that is asking a lot of you, but can you please just try to do that for me…? Thank you.” My mother explained.

“Yes. But I need a promise from you, too, Margaret,” said my dad. He was always serious, but also sweet at heart. Once my mother agreed, my father spoke softly, making me have to strain to hear what they were saying again.

“Anything.”

“Margaret…”

“Yes, Frank?”

“If I do this for you… And-and for our family,” he stammered, “Then you must promise me that giving up everything for this new life of ours is worth it. Promise me that we will be proud of our decision. That in the future we can look back and say that we wouldn’t have done a thing different….” I had never heard my dad say something that long and heart-felt, but I didn’t know what he had meant by ‘this new life of ours.’

Maybe he was referring to their earlier goals that they had made, but I still don’t fully know. Even if I had stayed up later that night after my parent’s had went to sleep, and I had heard my father’s snoring almost immediately after his head hit the pillow. It wasn’t too loud, and it wasn’t very annoying either, so I could still think clearly. Although, after everything, I have never figured out exactly what they meant that warm summer night, but I will never forget it either. I’m never going to forget their words, my surroundings, everything. I have the habit of doing that, remembering things so very clearly that it’s scary. Yet, I can’t remember much about my great-grandmother. That is another thing I will never figure out, probably.

My sister had never been one of those babies to whine, kick, throw things across the room, or cry a lot. She was actually quite calm for a baby. At least she was when she had gotten enough sleep, had a regularly changed diaper, and was comfortable. But when we were in an uncomfortable, non-quiet, hard to sleep through car, with no bathroom-breaks, she was pretty fussy.

“EXCUSE ME!?! Why can’t this family just shut their mouths?!?!” cried out Noah.

“I don’t like your tone, Noah.” Josh said, matter-of-factly, looking up from “How to Kill a Mockingbird.”

“Oh really? Well why don’t you stick your nose back into your STUPID book and you won’t have to deal with my ‘tone’ anymore!’” yelled Noah, back at him. I wanted to say something to shut them BOTH up, but as usual I stayed quiet. Even if I tried, nothing would make them stop bickering. It is just what they do, and when a crying baby is involved it’s just worse. Aaron finally realized this, and started hitting Noah in the arm repeatedly. The oldest of us acted like he didn’t even feel the little 8-year-old using him as a punching bag.

I grabbed Rose and placed her on my lap with her tiny head resting on my arm, trying to get her away from the hitting and punching going on in front of me. I was in the back of the car and so was Aaron, and then Rose, too. Noah and Josh were in the middle, which really wasn’t the best idea. Although, no one wanted to sit by Noah because he always got cranky in the car, as you can already tell. So, Josh got stuck with him. I have to say I felt bad for my brother, but I wasn’t going to risk sitting by the ticking time bomb of rage.