Collapsed in exhaustion on the living room sofa, I struggled to keep my eyes open and focused on my homework assignment. My notebook was lying on Grace’s limp head. As she’d insisted on using my lap as a pillow, I insisted on using her head as a desk. Quinn was also out cold, nestled up next to me with his head back, a soft whistling sound emanating from his lips with every breath. Thank god they were finally napping. Who knew kids could have this much energy? No wonder Mom never had time for matching dinner plates.

The heat radiating off my sibling’s bodies warmed me, and I reached down and ran my fingers through Grace’s silky hair. Since that day when Jake went missing – the day I’d yanked on her mane and been so mean to her – I’d used those soft strands as almost a security blanket, mindlessly running my fingers through them whenever sadness threatened to derail me.

It had been nearly a month now without him… a month of sickening despair. The house had taken on an eerie feel, and even though it was still filled with people, the emptiness was palpable. Thankfully, the kids kept me so busy that I had little downtime to really think about the heavy void, which was the way I wanted it.

Everyone had their own way of dealing with their loss and grief. Mom slept, Dad wandered, Keith smoked pot, Kyle played with knives, and I pretended like Jake didn’t exist. That was my way of coping… well, that and stroking Grace’s glossy hair.

I thought about Keith and tried to telepathically reach him.

Come home.

Since neither one of us had clairvoyant capabilities, I knew my brainpower messaging would not reach him. Keith just didn’t care anymore. And when he would sporadically grace us with his presence, more often than not he was impaired. The red, bloodshot eyes and the skunky smell radiating from his dirty clothes were a telltale sign of his descent into a world I did not understand. Keith was eighteen now, having ‘celebrated’ his birthday a few days after Jake’s disappearance, and although he was a senior in high school, he was only occasionally showing up for classes. The few adults still committed to his attendance – the school staff – seemed reluctant to push our parents past their very fragile breaking point.

I frowned. How could Keith just leave me hanging? This was supposed to be a shared challenge. In fact, when Aunt Mel left, he’d promised her, and me, that he would be there for us. He’d lied. As soon as she was gone, so was he. But I needed him, now more than ever. His presence at home made things bearable. When he wasn’t high, Keith was an incredible guy. So sweet, funny, and energetic, he’d always been the shining star of the family, and his personality was contagious.

I couldn’t really pinpoint when Keith got derailed from the straight and narrow track, but certainly it was well before Jake’s disappearance. Insecurities and the lack of a solid peer group pushed Keith toward a questionable faction of the school population. His was a slow and steady decline.

Before the kidnapping, Keith had been far from a model teenager, but at least he’d had our parents fighting to keep his unhealthy habits in check. Now, left to his own devices, Keith was spiraling out of control. “I can’t deal with this shit” were the last words he’d said to me, two days ago before disappearing into the night. As if I were so much more equipped to run a household and keep our little siblings alive! If anything, I was the least qualified person for the job.

Becoming a mother figure at sixteen hadn’t been on my to-do list, yet when Grace and Quinn were dropped in my lap, I, unlike Keith, had stepped up to the challenge. What was the alternative – let them starve, both physically and emotionally? Quinn and Grace were like baby birds that had been booted from the nest too soon. Someone had to teach them to fly.

I tried to fill the void left by my parents’ abandonment, but I was a piss poor substitute. The amazing thing about children, I found, was that they were resilient; adapting as a way of survival, I supposed. And so they acclimated to my way of doing things with very little resistance. Perhaps they were just happy someone was doing something.

The phone rang, and I gently moved Quinn in order to reach the cordless receiver. “Hello?”

“Emma? It’s me, Keith.”

Well, what do you know; maybe we were telepathic after all.

“I need your help. Can you pick me up at Hawthorne Park, by the pond?”

“I’m watching the kids. Where’s your car?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure?”

“I’m not sure, Emma. What do you want me to say?”

“Okay, that’s…weird,” I mumbled under my breath. Who forgot where their car was parked? “What’s going on, Keith?”

“I just… I need you. Can you come?” he asked, his voice shaking.

Something wasn’t right. I didn’t need to be clairvoyant to know that.

“Of course I’ll come.”

Keith was sitting on a bench by the pond. I could see him looking out over the water as I pulled up. With his shoulders hunched over and his hands folded into his lap, Keith was the loneliest of figures. I turned off the engine and stared at him. If only I could get through to him. Would he even listen? My body shook, and the familiar prickling of unbearable sadness began weighing me down once more. When all was said and done, I wondered if I’d have any brothers left.

Slowly, I crossed the grass and took a seat beside Keith. He lifted his head, and I gasped in shock when I got a full view of his beaten face. The skin around his right eye was purple and swollen to twice its size. I barely recognized him under all the bruises and dried blood.

“What happened?” I asked, touching his cheek as I tried to get a better look.

“Life.”

“Keith?” He owed me something more concrete.

“I had an outstanding balance.”

“Your dealer?”

“What do you think?”

There was an edge to his voice that pissed me off. He’d asked me to come, so he didn’t have the right to those condescending replies.

“How much do you owe?”

“Enough that this is going to happen again in three days if I don’t come up with the cash.”

“How much?”

“$400.”

“Do they have your car?”

“I don’t think so. I was out of it last night. I left it somewhere, but I can’t remember where.”

Not knowing how to reply, I just sat quietly looking out over the water. A pair of ducks happily floated by, and I closed my eyes to imagine the feeling of being so content and carefree. It had been a very long time.

“If I get you the money, will you come home?” I asked.

No reply.

“Keith?”

He sighed heavily, and I felt his body tremble beside me. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Of course you can. It’s where you belong.”

“It’s like being in a funeral home. I can’t deal.”

My blood boiled as I fought the spiteful words trying to push their way out. “You think I can deal?”

Keith was quiet for a moment, and then met my eyes and said, “You’re fierce, Emma. Always have been. I wish I were strong like you. There’s no challenge you can’t face.”

“You think I’m strong?” I laughed, but it came out a bitter scoff. “I’m barely holding it together, Keith.”

“But my point is, you are holding it together… the only one of us who is. Fierce… that’s what you are. Never forget that.”

“I don’t like the way you’re talking.”

“I’m giving you a compliment.”

“No, you’re talking like you’ve already given up. And you’re making excuses.”

“No, I’m stating facts. You guys are better off without me.”

“Like we’re better off without Jake?”

Keith’s face fell, guilt awash in his horrified expression. Good – that was the reaction I’d been going for. How dare he suggest such things? We were family, and he hadn’t just abandoned them but me as well. Keith and I had always been incredibly close, and although it wasn’t the same type of loss I’d experienced with Jake, Keith’s absence was still a loss, and I couldn’t help but fling a little of my frustration into his face. But instead of having the desired effect, my brother covered his eyes with his palms and let the tears flow freely.

My regret was instant, and I too began to cry. Keith put his arm around me and I laid my head on his shoulder. Life wasn’t supposed to be so hard. I wished I were a duck.

“You have a choice,” I whispered.

Keith took his arm back and dropped his head into his hands again. His body shook. My words continued to hurt him, but they had to be spoken. He had to hear them.

“You have a choice to be home, Keith, to be safe. You have a choice to sleep in your own bed. But instead, you’re out every night. You drink, you smoke, you do god knows what else. You should be home, with us… because you can be.”

“No, I can’t, Em,” Keith said, his voice cracking.

“Why? Are you that selfish that you’d rather be out having fun than being home and suffering right alongside the rest of us?”

“You don’t think I’m suffering?” His voice trembled in anger.

“It sure doesn’t look that way. You’re needed at home. Have you seen Kyle lately? He’s barely surviving. You could help him; but you won’t because all you think about is yourself.”

“Trust me, Emma, there’s nothing you could say to me that I haven’t already said to myself. I hate who I am. I hate that I can’t be there for you and the others. I hate that some sicko perv has my brother. And I hate that I’m so wasted that I can’t remember where I parked my fucking car.”

“Then stop. Just stop all of this and come home.”

“I can’t come home.”

“Why?”

“Because Jake’s not there.”

* * *

Keith did come home… but not by choice. Just after climbing into the car, his heavily beaten eyelids drooped and his weighty head lolled backward in exhaustion. He was snoring in a matter of minutes. I had to smile. With the whole head tilt thing, Keith slept just like Quinn.

After pulling into the driveway, I left him to sleep while I went in search of help. At this point I’d take anyone, but my father was preferred. His constant wandering had come to an end about a week ago, as if he’d finally come to terms with the fact that his lost son would not be found through sheer love and determination.

“Dad?” I said, stopping suddenly. I hadn’t expected to find him so easily. My father was slumped over the kitchen table, searching through hotline tips. He looked up with tired eyes and gave me a weary smile.

“Hi, sweetheart. How’s my girl?”

Not good. Not good at all. Water pooled in my eyes, and forgetting all about Keith and his vast issues, I threw myself into my father’s arms, determined to get myself a little loving while the opportunity presented itself. It might very well have been the first time he’d acknowledged me since this whole nightmare began. Dad patted my back and whispered soothing words into my ear.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

We stayed there holding each other for a long time before I remembered the reason for seeking him out in the first place. Standing back up, I wiped the tears away and said, “Keith’s passed out in the car.”

My father jumped to action, pulling his son into the house and forcing him onto a barstool in order to perform first aid. I served as the nurse, running around and gathering supplies. Together, my dad and I patched Keith back together and then helped him into bed, where he slept for what seemed like days.

Mom and Kyle stayed isolated, but after the whole incident with the knife, my mother had somewhat snapped out of her despondent state and stayed by his side most of the time now. While Dad kept vigil over Keith, I continued to care for the kids. Finally things were moving – if not forward, at least sideways. And sideways wasn’t backwards, so it was better than where we’d come from. I could live with sideways.