23 10.0: Cracked Ribs (2/2)

He leans against the balcony's edge and my eyes almost pop out at how dangerous his standing position is.

”I adopted her two years after I had Aiden-” She says a little too calmly for my taste. ”I- I wanted a sibling for him and after two years of miscarriages and constant hurt, I just adopted her-” She gulps, stares at an unmoved Jacob and continues. ”She was a year old. And I was ecstatic to have her in my family.”

Jacob grimaces at her choice of words and draws in from the cigarette.

”A year later, a miracle I hadn't anticipated happened-” She says, her eyes glued to the ground. ”I had you-”

Jacob might as well roll his eyes at his mother.

”Well, where's the explanation in that?” He demands and Mom urges him to wait.

”A few months after I've had you,” She looks away. ”I snapped. I was diagnosed with postpartum depression and anxiety. I was crazy-”

”So you took it out on her instead of your 'own' kids-” Jacob sneers. ”Yeah?”

”Jake, please-”

He shakes his head. ”I'm just confused-” He sniffs loudly, getting rid of his cigarette. ”Why did you always treat her different? Why, Mom? Why did you make her feel unwelcome? Everyone could see that-”

”Jacob, I tried-”

”And you failed!” He points an accusatory finger at her. ”The girl who's not your daughter, who is- was my sister and best friend, killed herself because of you-”

Getting to know that Jacob considered me as his best friend is like taking an axe to my guts. It's like bleeding slowly and painfully and helplessly. And I can't not hate myself for it.

”Jacob it wasn't easy-” She says, tears filling her eyes to the brim. ”She marked a very dark period in my life-” She sniffs. ”She- I know it wasn't her fault-” Tears stain her cheeks. ”But it wasn't mine either-”

I watch her, heartbroken and soulless. I watch her, dead and unmoving. I watch her excuse my years of pain with her year of pain.

I watch her and there's nothing to say.

”So it was my fault?” Jacob's voice comes strong and loud. ”After all, I was the one who gave you the fucking depression!”

”Language!”

”Oh, for God's sake!” Jacob runs his hands in his hair, muttering vaguely under his breath.

”It was no-one's fault-” My not-real mother says. ”She just- she just-”

”Chose that?”

”No-” Mom cries. ”She just gave me no chance to improve. I could've- I could've tried-” She says weakly. ”I was trying. I just- I didn't know I was failing-”

Jacob looks hard at her but doesn't say anything.

”I'm sorry it had to be that way-” She tells him with quivering lips and shaking hands.

”Well, yeah, it doesn't matter if you're sorry or not-” He says bitterly. ”The dead won't return.”

”Jacob, really, there was nothing I could've done for her-” Mom says and I grimace.

”No-” Jacob says instantly. ”No, Mom. There's a lot you could've done-” He whispers. ”And least of all,” he sniffs. ”You could've taught her how to be strong-” He says and I wish my soul could decimate and settle all over him to protect him from this big, bad world. ”You could've taught her how to live when life wasn't life and when people weren't people. But instead-” He clenches his jaws, flares his nostrils and tries controlling his voice. ”Instead, you let her fight her battles all alone when you knew that no-one was by her side.”

”You were there for her-” Mom chokes out, but Jacob shakes his head.

”I wasn't her motherly figure-” He says, keeping his voice as steady as possible. ”I couldn't have influenced her the same. And I seriously can't believe I'm giving you, Mom, a speech about how to raise children-”

”Jacob-” Mom says gently and he looks up to meet her eyes that immediately tear up. ”You're just a boy-”

”And boys shouldn't have to deal with so much pain-” He tells her as he swipes his finger across his nose. Mom approaches him and he looks at her with so much agony.

”I'm so sorry-” She says.

”I don't think you understand-” Jacob says. ”It doesn't matter. You don't have to pretend that you're sad over her. It was just guilt wearing you away-” His voice and my ribs crack.

Mom reaches for his hands and Jacob is no longer sure what to do. He's not sure if he should lean further back over the balcony's edge or hold Mom's hands to safety.

”I love you, Jake-” Mom says, trying to hold Jacob's unfocused and wandering blue eyes.

Jacob blinks at her, gulps and removes his hands from hers.

”I need some space-” He tells her, looks down, licks his lower lip. ”I'm going out with my friends. I won't be back before midnight-”

And just like that, with pain bruising my brother and disbelief glued onto my mother's face, Jacob rushes out of my balcony that turns so cold all of a sudden. I stare at Mom because there's nothing else to stare at except for the busy streets that my balcony overlooks.

And I'm not sure if it's her or the streets I should be looking at. I'm not sure if I should be feeding my pain or dumping it over the oblivious people hustling about in the streets below. And I wonder- I wonder if that's why I sometimes used to feel quite melancholic.

I wonder if there are other wandering, desperate spirits, shedding their pain and regret over the living. I wonder if the living actually feels it.

I gulp down my 'heart' back into its place. I gulp and try not to think about how much of an awful sister I am and how much of an amazing brother Jacob was/is. I gulp and try not to let my eyes swim in the ocean of regret; regret for not being there to guide him.

And I think if I can somehow change this. I think of how I wish I could hold time in my hands and tilt it all the way back to break its back and fix what was broken. I think about how that would satisfy my tortured soul.

I think and think and think until darkness inhales me back.