The Perfect Holiday

That’s what I’d done to Annabel.

And that’s what I’d done to my little brother, Kenny.

* * *

Saturday, August 23, 2006. I was eighteen-years-old. Angry. Alone. Lost. Drowning in self-pity and wallowing in sorrow. I had just graduated from high school (barely) and was looking to find work on an oil rig because I wasn’t smart or rich enough to go to college. In the meantime, I was working as a busboy at the Red Lobster just to earn gas money.

Annabel had not talked to me in months.

The violence from my old man had gotten worse. It seemed now that I was a couple of inches taller than him and had some meat on my bones he thought he had to hit me harder and more often to prove that he was still in charge. Sometimes I thought about defending myself, I was certainly capable of it now, but I was afraid that once he realized he couldn’t bully me anymore he would turn his wrath on Kenny. I couldn’t let that happen. Kenny was a defenseless little kid. He was the only reason I was staying in Gulf Breeze. I had to protect him.

Kenny was twelve, about to start sixth grade. He needed school supplies for the semester that would start that Monday. Naturally, my mother, who rarely had a thought my old man didn’t put in her head, had forgotten all about the supplies. She didn’t have money and told Kenny he’d have to borrow supplies from his friends.

Kenny was upset.

I was pissed off.

I grabbed the keys to her old Chrysler and told Kenny to come on. I would drive him to Wal-Mart and buy his supplies out of my tip money. My old man was out drinking somewhere and mom was locked in her room. We didn’t bother to tell her we were leaving because I figured she woul

dn’t care.

I’ll never forget the big smile on Kenny’s face as we drove away from the house. He was so grateful he had a big brother to look out for him. He looked up to me. I was his hero. I was the one constant that he could rely on.

An hour later Kenny was dead.

And I knew my old man would be out for blood.

* * *

We went to Wal-Mart and got Kenny’s school supplies. He was so happy because they had a Star Wars notebook he wanted. I spent almost my entire take-home pay for the week. I didn’t mind. His smile was worth every penny. I would give my last cent now to see his smile just one more time.

It had started to rain as we pulled out onto the highway.

The old Chrysler’s windshield wipers were old.

They barely cleaned the rain off the windshield.

I slowed down because it was hard to see.

It was Saturday evening and the traffic was heavy.

I turned off the highway onto Main, then onto Dilbeck Street.

We were a block away from home.

I stopped at the four-way stop and looked both ways.

I pressed the gas pedal and drove slowly into the intersection.

I never saw the drunk guy in the pickup truck that T-boned us on Kenny’s side.

It happened so fast. That’s what people say after they survive a car crash or an attack of some kind that just came out of the blue. It happened so fast. I didn’t have time to react. I never saw it coming…

I always wondered how that could be. How could something happen so fast that you couldn’t see it coming? How could your world change in the blink of an eye?

I didn’t remember the sound of metal crunching or glass breaking or tires squealing or Kenny making a sound as the pickup slammed into us at fifty miles an hour, throwing me hard against the driver’s door and impacting Kenny’s body with enough force to snap his neck and kill him instantly.

When I came to I was sitting on the back bumper of an ambulance with an oxygen mask over my nose and a blanket around my shoulders. The EMT was telling me how lucky I was. A few scratches and bruises. Nothing broken. Pupils were fine. No concussion. Lucky. He kept calling me lucky. I didn’t feel lucky.