Not My Hero

It’s because we share the same story.

I pull back and take hold of Brie’s hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Brie follows behind me, and I stop to take the clothes from Mom. “Thanks. I’ll start dinner in a couple of minutes.”

“It’s okay. I’ll throw something together while you take care of…”

She gives me a questioning look, and I quickly answer, “Brie. She’s the girl I told you about. The one who draws.”

“Oh.” A wide smile spreads over Mom’s face.

Only when I walk toward the bathroom does it hit me like a ton of bricks that Mom’s out of her bedroom, and she’s going to prepare dinner.

Shock ripples over me, and then a smile forms around my lips as a thought creeps into my mind.

We can help Brie, and just maybe… Brie can help Mom.

God, I hope so.

I set the clothes down on the counter and turn to Brie, and instead of seeing a broken girl, I see hope.

Still smiling like an idiot, I say, “You can bathe or shower.” I glance around, then add, “Everything you’ll need should be here.”

My gaze falls on the towels. I haven’t changed them yet this week.

“Give me a second.” I dart out into the hallway and going to the linen closet, I grab fresh towels.

When I walk back into the bathroom, Brie hasn’t moved a muscle. I set the towels down next to the clothes and grab the dirty ones. “Just shout if you need anything.”

I walk to the door, and when I begin to pull it shut, Brie says, “I’ll be quick.”

I pause and smile at her. “No rush. Take your time.”

I’m sure she needs some alone time to process everything.

I walk back to the kitchen, and when I see Mom’s boiling water, another wave of relief washes over me.

“Is it really okay with you if she stays with us?” I ask while walking over to where Mom is.

“Of course. That’s not even a question. She can’t go back home,” Mom gasps. She puts spaghetti in the water and turns to me. “She can’t go to school either.”

“I know.” I draw my bottom lip between my teeth. “Will you be okay with her here during the day. I don’t want to fall behind with classes.”

Mom places her hand on my arm. “It will be nice to have someone here.”

Just then, Brie peeks around the corner of the hallway, and I walk closer, asking, “Do you need something?”

She shakes her head and steps forward. It hasn’t even been five minutes, but she’s dressed in clean clothes. The sweatpants are a bit long, so Brie rolled them up.

“Are you done already?” I ask.

Brie nods, and her eyes dart to where Mom is.

Shit. I should’ve realized it earlier.

Where I’m cautious around men because my father was the abuser, Brie’s scared of women because her mother’s been hurting her. She first has to get used to being around my mother if I’m going to leave the two of them alone tomorrow.

I gesture to the stool at the kitchen table. “Do you want to sit down?”

Brie gives me an unsure look, so I take her hand and pull her into the kitchen. I sit down first, then nudge the stool next to me closer to her. Brie keeps glancing at Mom as she cautiously takes a seat.

“The food will take a couple of minutes,” Mom says. Walking over to the fridge, she opens it, asking, “Can I pour you something to drink, Brie? We have lemonade, orange juice, and coke.”

Brie stares at Mom as if she just grew a pair of horns.

I place a hand on her back and lean forward. “What do you like to drink?”

She looks like a deer caught in headlights, but then she stammers, “C-coke.” She swallows hard, then adds, “Please.”

“I’ll have some as well,” I say. “Thanks, Mom.”

Mom pours two glasses then places them in front of us. There’s a confused expression on Brie’s face.

Just from how she reacts to everything, it’s obvious Brie’s had it much worse than me.

I stare at the girl next to me, realizing she’s not as weak as I thought.

“Is it just you and your mom?” I ask, wanting to know more about her life so I can help her better.

Brie nods. She hesitates for a moment but then reaches for the glass. This time I wait until she sets it down before I ask, “Has it always been like this?”

Her eyes dart to mine, and I watch the emotions ripple over her face. Fear, despair, and then the look she always has. I thought it was anxiety, but I now know it’s from years of neglect.

Has this girl ever known any kind of love?

When Brie nods, I get all my answers, and it cracks my heart wide open. Not able to hold back, I get up and hug her again while empathy and anger mix in my chest.