Hold My Hand September 2006

by P. Laine
Photos by Russell Byrne

“If you come back now will you stop what you were doing to yourself?” she begged him. “Will you do things differently this time?” she pleaded.

The thing Janice liked most about her big brother was his amazing hugs. He would pull his little sister close and wrap his arms around her, smashing her nose into the hollow of his neck where she could smell his aftershave before a date or his sweat after work or play. The energy from one of those embraces would radiate through both of them.

Much later Robert came to her in a dream. She could once again feel the warmth of his embrace and smell the scent of his aftershave.

“Do you know you’re dead? Robert?” Janice asked. “I don’t know how you’re here because you died three years ago.”

It was difficult for her to say those words to him but she felt that she had to tell him the truth no matter how scared he might be.

“If you come back now will you stop what you were doing to yourself?” she begged him. “Will you do things differently this time?” she pleaded.

The look on his face told her that Robert would follow down the same destructive paths, if given the opportunity to do so. He stood within an arms reach of her and said nothing. Her heart was broken.

The dream seemed so real, but Janice knew in the back of her mind that her brother was gone forever. As she reached out to hug him a second time he slowly vanished before her eyes. In desperation she grabbed for him, but he was gone. She woke up crying and lay for a long time with her eyes closed trying to picture exactly what her brother looked like. She longed for the dream to be true.

For most of her life, Robert was the coolest brother around by far. He would sometimes tease Janice unmercifully and loved to punch her shoulder, making her wince from the pain. But Robert always felt that it was his duty to take care of his little sister. For a brief time during his teenage years he had wanted nothing to do with any member of his family, but even then she always knew that he would be there for her if she really needed him.

An event that took place when she was young illustrated his attitude. She had won a coveted prize by being the quietest child in the room during the rest period. “Best Rester?” a big bully on the playground had shouted at her as she walked across the wide expanse of asphalt on her way home from kindergarten.

“What does that mean, Best Rester?” the kid sneered. His buddies began to gather around, crowding the little girl, taunting her, and jeering at the badge she had worked so hard for. The laughter of the bigger kids drowned the rustling sound of the blue ribbon fluttering in the breeze.

“I got it because I was the Best Rester today during rest time,” Janice whispered as she looked down toward her brown Mary Janes.

“Ha, ha,” the mean boy shouted to all who had gathered around. “Best Rester! Best Rester! If you’re so good at resting let’s see how you do it,” he said as he reached out to yank her to the ground.

The girl anchored her feet, resisted his tug, and then looked up into the eyes of her tormenter. His appearance was deformed by the leer that spread across his face.

“Get down on the ground! We all want to see you rest!” he shouted at her.

Janice prayed that the school bell would ring so the kids would have to go, or that a teacher would see what was happening. However, like wolves gathering around a wounded animal, the boys began to push and jeer. The bully slowly forced Janice down upon the playground’s rough asphalt, the coarse gravel crunching beneath her knees. She was numbed by terror and her fear of the laughing and shouting children drowned the pain of the sharp stones. When she had been flattened on the ground the bully roughly shoved her head down with one hand and tore the ribbon from her dress with the other. He raised it over his head and triumphantly shouted, “Best Rester! Ladies and gentlemen, here we have the Best Rester!”

By now the kids were a pride of lions roaring over a fresh kill. To Janice, though, the sound of the mean kids exalting over her helpless shame was muffled by the scuffling of the children’s dirty sneakers on the gravelly playground only inches from her head. The sensation was like being underwater, and she had a frantic thought that she could swim away if she weren’t trapped by the legs of the big kids that encircled her like the bars of a cage.

Janice suddenly recognized a new voice. “What’s going on here?” It was Robert trying to get a glimpse of what the commotion was about and intending to join in with the fun that the crowd was having. The shaking, sobbing little kindergartener in her yellow dress looked to him like a small canary in the clutches of a gang of cats.

“Ha, ha! We have here the Best Rester in the school! We’re watching her do what she does best,” the mean boy jeered.

“That is my little sister, you jerk!” Robert shouted as he looked into the eyes of the cruel boy. It’s difficult to say what he would have done if some other little girl had been lying on the ground, but to protect his sister Robert let his fist fly with a right hook that connected solidly with the bully’s jaw. From her vantage point Janice glimpsed the punch. That left hook was familiar. Her brother had practiced it by punching her in the arm while teasing her. Now he had used it with real force in her defense and she saw the shoes of the mean boy shuffle backwards from the force of the blow. The bully ran off and the crowd quickly dispersed, their disappearing legs dissolving her cage and setting Janice free.

Lifting her head, the little girl gazed into the eyes of her knight in shining armor. The tears streaming down her cheeks created rivulets in her dusty face. She was filthy and shaking, but she was safe. She looked at her big brother through the tears that blurred her eyes.

“Come on, Sis. Get up. It’s okay now,” Robert said as he helped her to her feet.

A teacher on duty finally arrived, with the whimpering bully at her side and demanded to know what was going on. The boy was a tattletale as well as a bully. Her brother explained what had actually happened and Janice confirmed it. When they produced the torn and tattered Best Rester ribbon from the bully’s pocket, he was hauled off by the scruff of his neck to the office to face further consequences for his behavior.

“Thank you, brother,” Janice sniffled through her runny nose as they walked across the playground and across the field to the back gate. Robert was silent. He only stared straight ahead. The bell had rung and all the children were running toward their classrooms. Her brother walked her all the way to the gate of the school holding her hand in a loving and reassuring way.

The silence was broken when he shooed her towards home and said, “I’ll see you in a couple of hours. We’ll go roller skating when I get home.”

That was a long time ago and now the final conversation with her brother haunts Janice’s memories. The two last spoke after he had returned from driving through the night looking for drugs in a hopeless attempt to still the insatiable hunger that continually burned in his mind. His speech was slurred and weary.

“Robert, I have tried to help you,” Janice told him. “But there isn’t anything I can do for you. I can’t listen to your lies anymore. Don’t call me until you get help,” she advised. She was always grateful later that her final words to her brother on this earth were “I love you.” He said nothing in response and she hung up the phone.

Robert died that night slumped in his kitchen leaning against the wall while still wearing his glasses and hat. Janice often wondered what his final thoughts were as death closed his eyes. For a long time afterwards she also wondered whenever the phone would ring if the person on the other end would say, “Hi, sis! It’s me, Robert.” She would often break down in tears at the thought of him dying alone at his kitchen table perhaps while wondering why his little sister wasn’t by his side when it was his turn to need someone to hold his hand.

All he left behind for his sister were memories, regrets, and occasional dreams of his marvelous hugs. They were never enough.