Branches Book

BRANCHES

“Come on Michael, we have to go.” Even though I was six years old and the younger of the two of us, my bossy personality didn’t hinder me from ordering him around. Michal grumbled and begrudgingly got up. He had just turned thirteen and puberty was not his best friend. A constellation of little red dots covered his forehead and chin, and his voice fluctuated and cracked every time he spoke. He threw on the same ratty gray t-shirt he wore every day, a pair of black jeans, looked at himself in the mirror and shrugged as if to say “good enough.” “Coat.” I reached out and handed it to him and he smiled back at me. “Thanks T.” A few minutes later we came waddling into the living room, covered head to toe in our protective winter clothing. My dad looked at us and broke into laughter. It was the first time I had heard him laugh since September. “You two look ridiculous!” he said, keeling over in laughter. Michael and I looked at each other and we started laughing too. “Mommy didn’t dress us this morning, we dressed ourselves!” I exclaimed proudly. My dad stopped laughing, but I didn’t understand why. “What did you make us for lunch?” I asked. “Shit, I forgot.” “Dad, not again.” “Oh shit I didn’t mean to curse in front of you. I’ve got to work on that.” “Dad!” “Right, sorry guys, you’ll have to get school lunch today.” Michael patted me on the shoulder; we were used to this by now. We walked outside and were immediately hit by the blistering cold wind. On the way to the subway station, I attempted to eavesdrop on my dad’s and Michael’s conversation but it was hard for my little legs to keep up. “I’m thirteen, I can take Tessa to school on my own now, Dad,” I heard him say. Michael’s cheeks were red from the cold. My dad stopped in his tracks and looked at him sternly. “I’m sorry Michael, but it’s just not safe, not now anyway.” He lightened his demeanor. “You’re just going to have to deal with your embarrassing Dad for now.” Michael groaned loudly and my dad shook his head, pulling out a cigarette from the red and white box in his coat pocket. I gave him my best puppy eyes, pleading with him not to smoke, but he lit it anyway. I had just learned in school that smoking wasn’t good for you and he had been doing it a lot recently. He gave me a shrug, said sorry with his eyes, and we kept walking. This time I was the one shaking my head. The subway was quiet that day, so we all got to sit. My body moved up and down with the bumps and ridges of the subway tracks. I looked around at the other people with whom I was momentarily crossing paths. I saw my

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