Colby Everett

You probably want to read about Garret and Abby first.

Colby Everett

When Dad left he put me in charge. He was wearing his uniform and he said, “You’re the man of the house, now.” I knew what that meant. I’m the oldest, so it’s natural that the responsibility falls on me, but I was scared, and I didn’t want it. I think I just wanted to be a kid. I blamed myself for a long time.

Mom stayed near the base so that we could still see him when he got back from a tour. He has some pretty amazing photographs of Afghanistan and Iraq. The divorce wasn’t that strange in the sense that Dad was often gone for a long time normally, but I still felt it.

Garret didn’t seem to understand it, the full meaning of it I mean, which was probably good. But Abby started acting out pretty bad. I kept pushing her to do her karate, so she could have an outlet, so that helped. She really got into it. I’d see her practicing with Garret almost everyday. Garret really wanted to be a soldier. Well, not really, maybe like me he just wanted to understand it, because that felt closer to Dad. I’d watch them and I wanted to be in there doing it with them. But you can’t do that when you’re in charge. Dad used to tell me how when you’re in command you have to keep your distance, for their sake. I suppose it was for the best.

With the daily practice, Abby was getting pretty banged up. One day, she was doing her antagonizing thing, so I probably should have stopped it. But she does that sometimes, and Garret would get mad, but that would be the end of it. I didn’t think anything would happen. But they were sparring and he hit her, really hard. Lifted her off her feet. I heard a crack and she was holding her ribs. I told Garret to watch TV and I helped her inside. I got her in the bathroom and she coughed into the sink, and blood came out. Mom was going to come home from work in a few minutes, and I guess I like panicked then, because I held her ribs and started praying out loud. Within a minute, the swelling was down and she said it didn’t hurt anymore. The skin over the spot was just a little red. That was it. I cleaned the sink and when Mom asked how the day was I just told her that Abby seemed hurt earlier but that she was fine now. I didn’t lie.

About a year or two later, Abby came home and told me she’d fought ten boys and this time she didn’t get a scratch. I didn’t really believe her, but the way she said it, I wondered. After Mom got home I made an excuse to go out, and I started checking around. It wasn’t ten boys. It was eleven. Three of them were in the hospital, and one, a kid named Dave Soucey, was hurt real bad. People were talking. They were using the “M” word.

I tried to get in to see him, but for the first few days the nurses wouldn’t let me. Then, I finally told one of them that I was his brother. The minute I looked at him, I knew. With the tubes and the respirator, I knew. I touched him and I tried so hard, so hard I think I almost passed out, but he was too far gone. And it was going to be on Abby, because I wasn’t there to stop it. It was going to be on someone else because I didn’t do my job, so I touched him again and I wished him to be sick. I wished him to be real sick so that it would be quick. He started to shake and then he was gone.

A week later, I woke up smelling smoke. I got everybody out of the house. The police said it was arson. My heart broke seeing Mom those next few days. She worked so hard to buy that house. I talked to her for a while, about getting a fresh start, about leaving North Carolina and moving up where her folks came from, way up North in New Hampshire. Once the insurance money came in, we were gone.

It’s been hard on everybody, but living in the country is nice, and I’m staying focused. I’m taking care of them.