Angelic Patience

“But I want him to make my lunch, Mummy!  Mum-meee!”1

“Janet, not so loud, your big brother needs his sleep. Do you want an apple?”2

“But why does he get to sleep in?  I wanna too, Mum, I don’t wanna go to school, why does he get to stay home?” 3

Although his eyes were closed in feigned sleep, Galen could feel the accusing finger of Janet trained upon him. They argued in the kitchen, but because there was no wall dividing it from the common room, they still had a flawless view of the young man sprawled upon the couch, the blanket thrown haphazardly over his legs and his head resting on his flexed arms. He kept his face completely lax, trying not to twitch as his lungs tried to force out a deep, wet cough. He suppressed it, and in revenge his throat tightened and lungs turned to hot lead, and he couldn’t help but clench his fists in pain and apprehension. What was it this time?  Galen immediately banished the possibility of it being the flu, and even though it seemed like a cold, he worried that it wasn’t.  Colds were normally shallow, but this was deep.  Was it bronchitis again?  He prayed not, because taking off of work for another week was the last thing he needed.4

“I got a perfect score on my maths test, so I deserve to stay home. He doesn’t. All Galen does is watch the television and sleep.” 5

“Shush, baby, you know that’s not true.”  Fuck yeah that wasn’t true, he thought. He dared to let his right eye flutter open and saw Janet wearing that stupid red beret he bought for her the day before, and felt justified in his anger.  Where did that girl think his money came from anyway?  Galen saw his sister’s black hair sway to the left as she turned to face him, but his eyes were closed by the time she glared at his still form.  His broad chest rose and fell as slowly and evenly as any sleeping person’s would.  6

“Janet, you need to go to school. Just leave him be, he’s not feeling well,” his mother pleaded, as if she was apologizing on Galen’s behalf.      7

“He’s always not feeling well,” the little girl grumped.  She stamped her feet on the linoleum once, then twice, but gave up after that.  The sound of her feet didn’t bother Galen though: it was the flurry of quick, frantic steps coming in his direction that alarmed him.  He heard a shin crash against the common room’s low table and a yelp of pain.  8

“You too, Arthur, don’t you take another step near him,” his mother said. She mind as well had asked the kid to sing an opera.  Galen could practically hear the trespasser grinning broadly, evilly, like a maniac cartoon character.  9

“Gay-len is just faking sleep, ain’t ya? An’ he just sick cause he kisses girls with cooties,” Artie said, and then he started rapping his knuckles against the wooden table, loudly and without any apparent rhythm.  He whose name was correctly pronounced ‘Gail-en’ produced a loud groan and slowly rolled around so he was facing the back cushions of the couch, still pretending to be asleep.  He buried his face in the tanned leather, and the normally welcoming material felt harsh and smothering.  He hoped for Artie’s sake that the boy would shut his trap and go away, because he was all too ready to grab the kid and beat the stupidity out of him. It didn’t help that Galen actually did kiss a girl last night, and at once he realized that Artie was right about the ‘cooties’.  Someone did mention a bad cold going around, and what better way to catch it than swapping spit?10

After Galen choked back another cough, he pulled his face out of the cushion just enough so he could get some fresh air. He smelled the aroma of lemon tea and heard a saucer clink against the common room table, and then he heard Artie’s struggles as his mother dragged the brat into the kitchen.  “Arthur, just behave for Mummy, won’t you?  And there you are, Victor-baby.  What’s wrong with him?” 11

“I dunno,” Janet said.  12

“He don’t have his Snakey. He must’ve lost it,” Artie pointed out. Good riddance, Galen thought. That boy was getting too old to be carrying around a stuffed animal anyways.  Not even girls carried around toys at Vic’s age.13

“Where is it?” Mrs. Vitali said. 14

“I dunno, it’s lost,” Arthur responded. “Gay-len might know.” 15

“Stop calling your brother that. Well, why don’t you go help Vic find it?”  He heard Janet and Artie groan, but they made no movements to help the kid. Galen snorted into the leather and gritted his teeth. What were they, lazy? Were they incapable of helping anyone but themselves?  God forbid that Galen was trying to rest and get better in time for work at the pub that night, especially when Vic wanted that grungy toy or Artie wanted to start trouble or Janet wanted her lunch. He fantasized of an empty flat where he could sleep in his own bed again, of quiet mornings and uncluttered rooms, of being alone-16

His shoulders trembled and his blood turned to ice as he felt something press against the small of his back.  It took a second for him to recognize what it was: a tiny hand, fingers splayed, soft and warm.  The hand remained spread for a few seconds, moving with Galen’s slightly accelerated breaths, and then flexed, grabbing a handful of the young man’s gray tank and pulling backwards, as if Little Vic believed he could tug Galen right off of the couch. 17

“Victor!” his mother gasped, and Galen could hear her hurry out of the kitchen.  He moaned and waved an arm in the air – I surrender, the gesture seemed to say – then rolled back around and opened his eyes.  Vic was right there and staring back at him, dewy-eyed, the ghost of Galen’s own terrified childhood.  18

“Come on, kiddo,” he grumbled, sitting upright and snatching up Vic around his torso with one arm, then setting him on his knee. Galen turned his head to the side and finally let that cough out, then reached over to the table and grabbed the tea.  Little Vic waited with saintly patience as Galen forced the lemon tea down in three burning gulps, then set the cup back on the table and ran his long hair back out of his eyes. 19

“Are you okay?” His mother stood between the common room and the kitchen, dressed for work and completely unaware that Snakey had been coiled up on top of the refrigerator the whole time.  Galen saw it and remembered setting it there as he made the kids’ dinners the night before.  Little Vic followed his big brother’s gaze and fidgeted with excitement, squeezing his small hand around two of Galen’s fingers.  20

“Yeah, I’ll live.”21