A Brother's Smile

The wind whistled, its force making the loose metal skirting of the house trailer clink, causing a tapping sound like evil asking entrance. She sat in the bathroom atop the partition that rose up between the vanity and commode. A towel, of ghastly green and red stripes, snugly wrapped around the trunk of her, its final corner tucked tightly in at her armpit.

Her short brown hair, wet, and glued in fat strands to her small head. Hands resting on her terry covered thighs, she looked old in her hunched state. Brown eyes gazed at the green with brown, square outlines of the linoleum that surrounded the rusty vent grate. When the blast of heat pushed through, the string that she and her sister had tied there stood erect. At one time, the sight had given them joyous pleasure, though no longer.

Waiting for her Granddaddy to return with her thermals, Jenny was a vision of the torment that raged outside. In her young eyes misery pooled, but she refused it because she didn't want to cry again. She wanted understanding, clarification of the last days' events. Answers as to what tomorrow's events would bring.

The snow yesterday had been so wonderful. So beautiful and white and clean and cold! Granddaddy had built a sled! Yesterday was its maiden voyage; they broke it in on the icy, dirt road that lay just beyond the tree line.

Though not before they had three layers of winter attire piled on, socks over their hands in place of mittens, and down-filled coats that poked at its occupant at all times at any given locale. Knit caps, that they called 'boggins,' were pulled down over foreheads and ears.

All of Granny's fussing was tolerated because the reward was the snow! So both girls stood helpless but willing as the layers were added.

The joy only lasted the amount of time it had taken for the siblings to find fault with one another and begin their bickering, ruining the beauty of the day. Jenny, furious with her younger sister, Margaret, bolted into the house where her mother still slept. Granny was in the house-trailer that connected to the main home-too far away. Bellowing up the stairway, Jenny's voice bounced through the corridor and effectively roused her mama. Mama, sleepy-eyed, appeared at the top of the case, and sat down on the uppermost stair, listening to the child's complaint.

Granddaddy had heard the commotion Jenny had made and entered the den. Jenny noticed and, happy to have another adult as a captive audience to the injustice done her, continued with her recital. Her mouth moved with the same swiftness of her emotion, so all was said in less than two moments.

Mama, pulling on the railing in order to stand her weary body up, issued a dictum to be carried to Margaret then turned toward her room, intent on obtaining needed rest.

Jenny left the base of the stairs, eager to return to Margaret. Granddaddy was already gone, heading out to do some country chore or another. Jenny could see his back as he walked across the yard in his overalls and flack jacket. Hot to deliver mama's message to Margaret, Jenny trotted through the den and was into the living room when Mama's voice brought her to a standstill.

"Jen . . .neee!" Mama screamed in a voice Jenny was unaccustomed to hearing. Terror burst through Jenny's child heart, and she spun and ran back whence she'd come.

She'd not made the third stair when her mother rushed by carrying her baby brother. Jenny followed, frightened to her core.

Mama was sitting on the edge of the sofa; the baby was face down over her knees with his small head hung over mama's thigh.

Mama hit him in the back, then again and again! She was pounding on him. Blood streamed from his baby nostrils, then gurgled from his baby lips. Jenny was frantic, unbelievingly watching in horror as her mama attempted to pound life into the baby.

After her tears began to spill over from her wide eyes onto her thick coat, Jenny was able to respond, "What are you doing?" Jenny's voice screeched, she wanted Mama to stop hitting the baby. Why was she hitting the baby? "You're hurting him!"

"Get Granddaddy!" Mama screamed.

Yes, Jenny thought, Granddaddy will stop you!

Granddaddy stopped at Jenny's frantic behest and returned to the house in a run because of the urgency he'd heard in his granddaughter's voice.

In the den, Mama was breathing into the baby and sweeping at the blood on his face; Mama's tired eyes were crying when Granddaddy got there. Jenny was sent out.

Her memory from that point until Mama and Granddaddy returned from the hospital was lost, save that the interim had seemed an eternity. At the door, both sisters met their mama. "Where's the baby?" Jenny asked, her worry so apparent when she didn't see the baby in Mama's arms.

Mama's answer, "At the hospital, he's dead," was spoken so softly the girls nearly hadn't heard. Tears immediately sprang into Jenny's eyes, tears of shock and the fear of what 'dead' was.

Jenny had had a rabbit once. It had 'got dead' and now she couldn't see it anymore. It too had been soft, and sweet, and really nice to nuzzle.

That was the heaviness that burdened Jenny as she sat perched on the dark-brown, paneled partition with its green plastic trim, awaiting her bedclothes.

Mama's mourning left the care of the girls to their grandparents. Jenny loved both her Granny and Granddaddy, but would have preferred Mama to be the one that cared for her. She needed Mama now.

Margaret was too young to really know what was going on. Young enough not to understand and, blessedly, young enough to have the ability to forget. Jenny was not and mourned alone because Mama couldn't mourn with her.

The questions she asked of her grandparents about death were answered, though not to her full satisfaction. And she had learned a new word, SIDS. Jenny didn't know who or what SIDS was but did know that whoever or whatever it was, SIDS was the culprit that had taken her brother. Jenny hated SIDS.

When Mama had had to leave again, to wrap the baby she had said, Jenny had asked, "Does dead babies get cold?"

"No, honey," Mama tried to explain, "but the people at the funeral home, they don't know how to wrap him in the blanket-how to fold it, how to wrap him-with my love. They can't so I have to." Mama hugged her living children, then left with Granddaddy to wrap love around her dead one.

The funeral home was filled with more flowers than she'd ever seen indoors before! It was as if someone had brought Granddaddy's garden inside. In the presence of all the beauty, Jenny left all of the questions she'd posed to God while in the bathroom the night before behind for the moment, in order to fully marvel at all the pretty blooms. She didn't think about the question of Heaven, her brother's new home, of what it was like.

There were so many people and flowers and food and anything you wanted to drink that it seemed like a party. Everyone was dressed-up in church clothes; even Granddaddy had shaved off his long, long beard. "To show respect to the baby," he'd told Jenny when she'd ask why.

Jenny watched as the grown-ups frowned and offered condolences to the family, though their faces bespoke sadness to one another, everyone seemed happy when they greeted Jenny. And Daddy was there! (Mama and Daddy were divorced.) And Daddy's family too! Jenny went to Daddy, and wanted to ask him some of the questions she had. Daddy, though, only wanted to hug her and kiss her and tell her how much he loved her, and how much she'd grown.

"What's that?" Jenny asked her uncle, pointing to the small pretty white, silver-trimmed box that stood, propped high, too high for her to investigate herself.

"Your brother, honey-pie." He said while kneeling down and bringing her into the circle of his bended legs and reaching arms.

The baby's here! Jenny thought with excitement. Perhaps God had answered a prayer and had given him back! "I want to see him!" Jenny exclaimed, while bouncing on happy toes.

Uncle had agreed and lifted her up, but Mama walked by and cautioned against, so Uncle declined saying, "Maybe later." Then put her down.

Why would Mama say no? Jenny wondered, her grief and feeling of loss returning-as well as her resentment that God had, in fact, taken the baby. Jenny wanted God to give them their sweet, beautiful brother back!

Jenny approached the box. He was silent, nothing new really; he hadn't ever been a crybaby. The box was so exquisite, a good box for her beautiful brother.

Still, she wanted to see him! Jenny turned, scanning the mourners and flowers and her gaze alighted upon the answer: a gray, metal, fold-up chair. She lugged it to the box, unbent its form, then climbed atop.

Her breath caught at the magnificent sight of the shiny satin pleated about the box's interior. The baby looked so sweet, just like when he was sleeping. He was wrapped in his special blanket like Mama had said, with love-the way she'd always swaddled him- in blue fuzz with silky edges.

"Hi brother," Jenny said.

And the room went silent and still, like in her dreams where suddenly she was all-alone, except this time her brother was still there laying in his pretty little box. Around her she felt only him and Him. Then slowly, purposefully, a grin began to spread across her brother's face, until finally it was a smile. Jenny smiled at her brother's smile. Time ceased its momentum as the baby lay smiling at her. And Jenny knew God was answering a question with the gift of her brother's smile-Heaven, her brother's new home, was peace!