Cruise Control by Terry Trueman Page B

thousand times—he ran away from Shawn. I can’t forgive my dad, but I understand him better. It’s me I don’t understand; how I can love my brother so much one minute and then, the next minute …
    Suddenly I feel a rush of fear and a sick sensation in my gut. I look at Dad as we sit quietly, but inside I feel scared and shaky; there’s one thing left that needs to be done, one terrible secret that I need to talk about—not with my dad, but with my brother.
    Dad has gone and I’m alone now with Shawn in his regular spot by the window. Mom’s upstairs and can’t hear me. Cindy’s not home from school yet.
    I say, “Hey, bro, listen, I have to tell you something....” The words just come out. I feel scared for a second, but I shake the fear away—it’s now or never—I have to do this.
    Without planning how I’m going to start, I just begin. “That time, Shawn, when those two bullies were picking on you, the Bic lighter, them hurting you; what you couldn’t see that day, what no one saw, was …”
    I hesitate. I don’t know if Shawn understands me or not, but I need to tell him this anyway, I need to tell him the truth, the part I never imagined I’d tell anyone....
    â€œThere’s something more,” I say, staring into Shawn’s eyes.
    My throat is tight. “I … I …” I stutter and start to lose my nerve.
    Shawn suddenly makes his “ahhhhhhh” sound, like he’s trying to answer me. Like he’s trying to say, “It’s okay, bro, just let it out....”
    I stare into his eyes, take one more deep breath, and finally speak. “I saw what they were doing, Shawn, and I wanted them to do it.”
    Shawn stares off into space.
    For the first time ever, hopefully for the last time ever, I say these horrible words that I’ve been too afraid to ever say, even to myself. “I saw those two guys before they even came into the yard that day. I heard them teasing you and I knew they were going to mess with you. I saw them walk up and I wasn’t afraid of them, but I just stood at the corner of the house watching. I saw that one kid get out the cigarette lighter and put it under your chin. And I just stood there. I thought it could be over at last—I wouldn’t be the guy with the broken brother....”
    I pause a second and try to catch a breath. My hands are shaking and my stomach feels terrible. I’m afraid to look into Shawn’s eyes, so I stare at the floor. “When he held that lighter under your chin, and you started moving all around, trying to escape, I said inside my head, ‘Go ahead and do it! Just kill him and let this all be over.’ I wanted them to kill you, Shawn. I wanted you … gone!”
    I burst into sobs and can’t say more. But there’s nothing more to say. My brother, if he knows anything, if he understands words at all, knows the truth about me now; that I’m nothing, less than nothing, a coward and a selfish jerk, too afraid to even love him.
    Tears stream down my cheeks. I feel dizzy and sick. I bury my face in my hands and try to breathe. I collapse onto the floor next to Shawn’s wheelchair and just sit there, crying.
    Through my sobs I manage to spit out, “I’m so ashamed....”
    I’m crying too hard to say more; I can hardly breathe.
    I cry for a long, long time, sitting there on the floor, alone with my brother.
    I finally stop crying. I begin to breathe evenly again. My ribs and chest ache from all my sobbing, but a strange kind of peacefulness starts to fill me.
    Finally I say, “I’m sorry, Shawn. I am. I’ll never let anyone hurt you, bro, and I’ll never pretend again that I don’t know you. You’re my brother, Shawn, and I’m yours. That’s the way it is.”
    We sit silently. Something has changed in me. I don’t know how to describe it, but something