I'll come back for him.
Allison Courcel tugged at her light brown braid in an unconsciously nervous gesture, as she glanced down at her little brother. He'll be fine, she thought, fixing his cap absently, until he swatted away her hand and tipped his hat in that haphazard way he knew she hated. Stung, she pulled away her hand quickly. She knew he didn't mean it; knew that it was just a phase. It was just his twelve year old dignity that didn't allow him to let his older sister fuss over him. But it hurt, coming from him. She tried to stop that insistent stab of pain, but to no avail.
Is this what he's going to be like later? she wondered. She tried to block of the inevitable questions: would he forgot her? Resent her? ...Forgive her? She shook her head, as if the guilt would be shaken off as well, but guilt had a nasty way of sticking. You've nothing to be guilty of. Nothing. The responsibility was too much for her - he was too much for her.
She loved him. He was her brother - but having to raise him for six years made her feel bitter towards him. Allison hated that resentment. She didn't want it, but it refused to go away.
That resentment shouldn't've existed. Nate was her brother; only five years old when their mother died. He couldn't have taken care of himself. It was never his fault. Besides that, shouldn't she be used to it already? Seven years should have done it. Should have made her used to raising a child eight years younger than herself. Should have made the resentment fade. But it didn't. Apparently, feelings didn't work that way.
God, she hated feelings. They were so...inefficient. They only got in the way. Baggage, she thought, annoyed. She stole a glance at her little brother. Baggage. The tone of the thought softened, but was still firm.
"We almost there yet?" Her brother asked, trying to keep the whining tone out of his voice, and failing miserably. He was like a little kid sometimes, but then again, Nathan Courcel lived a very sheltered life. His sister made sure of that.
"Almost," Allison replied distractedly, still lost in her own thoughts.
Nate bit back a sigh, and stared at his shoes as they walked through the streets of Harlem. He didn't want to whine, but his sister was being so damn secretive. He wished they were there already, so he could find out what all the worry was all about. And she was worried. He didn't know why, but he wanted to. He just wished she told him things, instead of making him all edgy. But no, Nate's jus' a kid, he shouldn't know where he's goin' ta work fer howevah long, he thought in disgust. He wasn't stupid - he knew he wasn't. Why did she always treat him like he was? Well, not stupid, he amended. But not like...like an adult. He understood the why Allison considered him a child: he was eight year younger than her. But it didn't mean he was immature or anything.
Briefly, images of past...adventures...flitted through his mind, but he waved them away. That was different, he thought, irritated at the logical part of his mind that tended to disagree with the rest of it. If I'm old enough ta work, I should be considahed an adult, he thought, easily shaking off logic with pure stubborn resolve.
"So...where're we goin'?" Nate tried to slip in casually, fingering a loose string on his shirt, and glancing up at her with wide, innocent eyes.
She didn't look back at him. "We're almost there, Nate. You'll see soon." She replied shortly, tugging at her braid for what seemed like the hundreth time that day.
Rolling his eyes and sighing, Nate continued his long-limbed gait after his sister, his compact luggage starting to make his arm hurt. Though she was only four inches taller than him, she had a brisk walk that kept him on his toes often enough. It ain't fair, he pouted silently, though he would never admit to pouting. Pouting would be childish, and of course he wasn't childish. He was twelve, for goodness' sake!
Being twelve, he should also be the one who controlled his future. His sister would just have to come to terms with that. He nodded, happy that he finally came up with a solution. He would just need to stand up for himself. Be a man, Nate, boyo. Be a man.
Abruptly, he stopped, right in the middle of the street. After a few paces, his sister seemed to realize that he stopped, and turned to face him impatiently. When she did, he set his jaw and told her determindly "Allison, we need ta tawk."
Five minutes, and a few harsh words later, Nathan Courcel found himself sulking behind a very angry sister who was practically storming to his new job - wherever it was. Sticking his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders, he muttered, "Well, it coulda worked."
Meanwhile, ten paces ahead, Allison gritted her teeth in frustration and anger. How dare he! Comparin' himself ta me! Like he coulda taken care of a five year old when he was thirteen, er somethin', she fumed. Like I wanted that was jus' an opportunity ta prove I was an adult. Damn him. Damn him, damn him, damn him. She tried to get it out of her mind. His argument was weak, and a bit desperate, but not meant to get her angry. Persuade her, yes, but not anger her. It was simply that Nate made her angry just by being himself.
He never did it intentionally, but he always managed to do it. That's why yer puttin' him at da lodgin' house. He'll like it. If not, I'll find some place he will, an' then he'll stay there. Then I'll come back. I will come back.
A block away from the East Harlem Lodging House (for Boys), the two walked in silence, both cursing the injustices of the world, for completely different reasons. The boy did it because he was sick of being only twelve years old, and no one taking him seriously. The girl did it for having responsibility of taking care of her little brother thrust upon her.
Both seemed just plain sulky by the time they got to their destination, and it was definitely noticed, by the curious looks they were getting upon their arrival. It seemed that some poor brunette boy was at the recieving end of two black scowls as he smiled a greeting at them.
With a cough, he replied to that, "Guess ya wanna see Knuckles, eh? Follow me."
Allison found herself more nervous than she expected to be. Guilt and unease tied her stomach into tiny little knots that bounced against eachother in some nauseatingly upbeat ragtime tune that got stuck in her head sometime in the last few minutes.
She found the lodging house quaint and comfortable, and part of her hoped Nate would like it so she could leave him. The other part of her chided herself for even hoping that. The boy in charge - Fists, or something silly like that - was showing Nate and herself around the place, and introducing them to the lodgers that were around. It seemed nice, and the boys all seemed respectable enough. Or perhaps it was just wishful thinking.
But her brother seemed to be enjoying himself - he was positively beaming, and a silly grin was plastered on his face. She wished - she hoped...that he liked it. He had to like it. Living with seventeen other teenaged boys? How could he not, when he spent most of his life with a girl? God, she hoped - and she hated herself for hoping.
After fooling around in the bunks for a little while, her brother came back to her, his face glowing with excitement. "I like it." He declared enthusiastically. As he said the words, something in her seemed to sigh in relief. He liked it. She could leave. Be her own person instead of Nate's Older Sister.
She smiled fondly at her brother, and straightened his hat. "Good."
It didn't take long for him to get settled in. He had a good amount of luggage, but certainly not a lot. Soon enough, they were at the door once again, and Allison found the situation to feel...right. It felt right - leaving him with strangers, in a place that he'd like. She knew the asylum was all wrong for him, but she needed to go for a little while, and didn't have time to check it out. This would be fine. This would be right. She could leave him here forever.
Not that she would. Not forever. I'll come back for him, she thought. "I'll come back," she found herself saying out loud.
He grinned up at her, flashing rows of little white teeth. "An' we'll go out West," he said, his expressive eyes shining.
West. How could she have forgotten? Promises were easy to make. Who was it that said that? Promises are easy ta make, but hard ta remembah when da time comes. Careful what ya promise, Ali-girl. Now she remembered. Her mother said that to her, when Allison asked her to promise she'd never die, and stay with them forever. It was right before she got sick, and started coughing up blood. Allison was nodding before she even realized it. "We'll go out West."
***
Stay tuned! More to come!
