Tears

After spending the night at her cousin's, Ashlynne now must live with her older brother. Her mother passed away last month due to the negilgance of a so called professional, and she has returned home for good. Her belongings are at her brother's house, squeezed into the sunroom at the back of his house. This was to become her new bedroom.

Ashlynne had felt sick after arriving at her brother's house and unceremoniously vomited all over herself when she didn't quite make the bathroom. Her harsh elder brother proceeded to shove her, fully clothed, into the shower, berating her as she cried. Ashlynne stands shivering in the shower, her wet clothes clinging to her trembling body. The icy water mixes with her tears as she tries to muffle her sobs. Her brother’s angry words still echo in her ears, cutting deeper than the cold spray pelting her skin. She fumbles with the shower knobs, finally managing to turn off the water. Stepping out onto the bathroom tile, Ashlynne catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her pale face is blotchy and swollen, auburn hair plastered to her head. She barely recognises the broken woman staring back at her. Peeling off her soaked clothes, Ashlynne wraps herself in the only towel available and creeps down the hallway to the sunroom. Her new “bedroom” feels alien and claustrophobic, crammed with boxes of her belongings.

Sitting on her bed, knees touching the drawers of her dresser she rummages through some drawers for something to wear. She manages to find a shirt but it isn’t one of hers. After pulling it on over her head and readjusting the towel around her waist she pulled the drawers open again in search of underwear. She didn't find any, instead found clothes that she and her mother had purchased. Baby clothes. With new but silent tears Ashlynne gently caressed each item. Her heartache right in front of her. She had lost her baby three months ago when she was seven months pregnant. She should be holding and caring for a one month old baby boy right now. Not grieving because she never got to hear him cry. The only other person who knew, was her mother.

Ashlynne could hear people talking from further in the house and she was all too aware that she had left her bag of clothes in the back of her car. Just then the back door of the house opened and in stepped the one person she never thought she'd see again. She quickly shut the top drawer as he gave her a sad smile and said hello. As the man went to take a step closer to her, her younger brother stepped in to the back room talking a mile a minute about some video game to the guy as he greeted him and virtually pulled the guy further into the house. Her younger brother has ADHD so always speaks fast and when he is hyper-fixated on something he doesn't always see what is around him or pick up on the social cues of others.

Taking a deep breath and wiping her face, Ashlynne wandered through the door into the kitchen and dining room where her keys and phone were. As she picks up the keys she looks into the living room to find it full of people. Great, I'll have to walk out looking like this. The small towel not even reaching her knees. Her baby brother spots her and walks over sadly. "Hey baby. You have a sore tummy too, huh?" she says. The three and a half year old is in his pyjamas, slippers and a dressing gown but has his top up, exposing his belly as he rubs it gently.

He nods. "I feel yucky, Ashie."

"Come here. You can come snuggle with me. We can be sick together," Ashlynne replies, stretching out a hand to him.

"Don't coddle him. He'll get over it just like you will," her older brother snaps grouchily, making everyone else in the room silent.

Ashlynne bends down and picks up her baby brother. She is angry. For far too long her older brother has been an emotionless, stern asshole. She has never answered back. Not after the day that he back handed her across the face for a trivial thing she couldn't even remember. Glaring at him as she stands in the doorway of the living room holding their baby brother, she answers back. "Just because you're a fucking emotionless asshole, doesn't mean I can't comfort our baby brother. He's sick. I know you don't love him, but I do."

The room falls deadly silent, all eyes darting between Ashlynne and her older brother. His face contorts with rage, fists clenching at his sides. For a moment, Ashlynne feels a flicker of fear, but she stands her ground, holding her baby brother tighter.

Through gritted teeth, her brother growls back. "I never said I don't love him."

"Bull-fucking-shit. You told me at Mum's funeral that he wasn't going to live with you because you didn't want him. I only asked Trina to look after him because I had to go back and finish my placement. But don't worry. We'll both be out of your hair as soon as fucking possible." With that she turned to her left and handed her keys to her cousin. "Can you please grab my bag? I need my clothes."

"Is there none in the dresser? I didn't look in them when we moved them, but I thought there was some in there," Trina replies.

"Nope. Not even a pair of underwear."

Just then Ashlynne's baby brother motioned that he was would be sick. She tried to comfort him as she rushed him to the bathroom. Trina and her husband came in with her clothes and the little boy's backpack that had spare clothes and night nappies. Ashlynne knew from their conversation last night that the little boy had regressed on his toileting during the night.

Bypassing the sombre looks of her older brother's friends and her younger brother, she carried her baby brother to her new makeshift bedroom at the back of the house. She no longer cared how she looked. Only dressed in the baggy shirt and a pair of underwear.

As she lay in her bed cuddling her baby brother as he drifted off to sleep, her tears began to flow again. The grief from losing their mother and her own baby, crashing down on her. At only nineteen she now must step up to care for her little brother full time. Trina and her husband, Reece, were happy to care for the little boy temporarily while she could sort things out. Her brother, the arrogant ass, had begun moving their mother's things out of her rental house the day before her funeral.

Ashlynne feels the weight of responsibility settling on her shoulders like a heavy cloak. She strokes her baby brother’s hair, his small body warm against hers, his breathing finally evening out as he drifts into a fitful sleep. The room is dim, the only light filtering through the thin curtains, casting long shadows across the cramped space. Her mind races, trying to piece together a plan. She needs to find a place for them to live, figure out childcare, balance her studies with raising a toddler. The enormity of it all threatens to overwhelm her. She closes her eyes, willing the panic to subside but the shouting coming from the living room isn’t helping. She flinches when she hears something break and then a door slam.

"I'm sorry. I had no idea," a voice says softly from the end of her bed.

"He's always been an asshole. Did you know that Dad only kicked him out because he shoved Mum against the fridge the day after they told us she was pregnant? Dad punched him, then took Mum to the hospital as a precaution," Ashlynne explains as she strokes her little brother's hair.

Her father was killed in a car accident when Bodie was only eight months old. Now that their mother is gone, Ashlynne and her brothers are orphans.

"Yeah. Eli just said that. Well, he shouted it out."

"That was Eli?" she asks as she turns to face the man. She gasps and clumsily pulls back the covers and crawls to the man across the bed.

He winces when she touches his face. "Reece and I stepped in to stop him from hitting Eli. Guess I was too close."

"Is Eli okay?" she asks, concerned that her younger brother is hurt.

He nods, explaining that the others are with him. "Reece and Damon convinced Eli to play a game on the X-box in his room while Trina, Lucas and Axel are cleaning up the mess."

“Come on. We need to clean up your face,” she says, taking his hand and leading him to the bathroom.

He sits on the lid of the toilet seat as she cleans up the blood on his face. As the silence stretches and she tends to his face, he takes in her thin and frail form properly. “My shirt looks huge on you. I’m glad you found it though.”

She freezes. “This is yours? Why?”

He shrugs. “I guess I just wanted you to know that I care... about you.”

Ashlynne turns back to the vanity sink, her back facing him. Tears fill her eyes for what seems like the hundredth time today.

“The night we shared was special, Ash. I didn’t want to leave you.”

He and two of his mates, Damon and Axel, went to Europe for six months to work and travel. When he returned she had already moved states away for a work and study placement that was part of the scholarship she had secured.

“Do you know?” she whispers out. She found the t-shirt, his shirt, in the second drawer of her dresser. The baby clothes are in the top drawer.

He is silent so she tentatively turns back to face him as she can't see him in the small mirror because of where it is placed. His brows are slightly drawn together. “Know what? Did you meet someone while you were away?”

She shakes her head and tears roll down her face. As he stands up and slowly steps closer, she closes her eyes and lets the tears fall as the guilt she’s carried clutches her chest. Ashlynne’s heart races as she feels him move closer. She can’t bring herself to meet his eyes, afraid of what she might see there. The small bathroom suddenly feels too cramped, too intimate. She can smell his familiar scent, a mixture of cologne and something uniquely him. It brings back memories she’s tried so hard to bury.

“Ash, baby. What is it? What should I know?” he says as his hand gently cups her cheek, wiping the tears from her face. “Does it have something to do with why you look so skinny and sick?”

With trembling lips she replies. “Sort of.” She knows she hasn't taken care of herself, she's been too consumed with pain. With grief. She takes a shaky breath, finally looking up at him. His eyes are full of worry and something else—a tenderness that makes her chest ache.

“Are-are you sick? Like. Are you dying?”

Ashlynne shakes her head. Taking his hand she leads him back to her makeshift bedroom. Her tongue feels thick and she can’t form words. Carefully sitting on the side of her bed so that she doesn't wake her baby brother, she pulls him down to sit next to her and slowly opens the drawer of her dresser. The light from her lamp is more then enough to see the items in her drawers clearly.

"Ash? What am I looking at?" he asks, confused.

She realises that he must think the clothes belong to her baby brother. Carefully she picks out a little jumpsuit. A new born sized jumpsuit. With shaky hands and tears she unfolds it and lays it on top of the dresser. In the small space between the side of her bed and the dresser, she stands and slowly lifts the shirt up to underneath her breasts.