Page 25 of The Fall Before Flight

“Phillip isn’t fearless like them. Water makes him nervous, too.”

“He’s too young to be afraid. Clearly he’s picking up on your fear.”

“I don’t think so. I’m very careful not to project?—”

“Deal with it, Julia. I’m not putting a damned fence around the pool. You’re the adult. Take Phillip to the swim lesson. I have work to do.”

Jameson and I trade glances as our mother’s footsteps pass the playroom door and go down the stairs.

“He’s afraid of water?” whispers Jameson.

I shrug. “That’s stupid.”

Jameson frowns. “Don’t call Phillip stupid.”

“Fine, I’ll call you stupid.”

“I’m not stupid. You’re stupid. I hate you.”

I stick my tongue out. “Hate you too.”

Minutes later, our mother comes back upstairs and pokes her head into the playroom. She’s wearing a raincoat since it’s been storming all day.

“Hi, lovebugs. I’m going to take Phillip swimming.”

“Can I come?” I ask.

My mother smiles. “Not tonight, Amelia.”

“But I can help!” I insist. “I’m not afraid of water!”

Jameson pinches me and I squeal, then punch him hard in the shoulder. He wails and throws a handful of Legos at my head.

“I’m going to watch TV,” he announces, running from the room before I can retaliate.

“He pinched me first,” I tell my mother.

“I saw. I’ll have a talk with him later.”

Oddly, she doesn’t look angry. She normally hates it when we fight. She’s constantly telling us how blessed we are to have siblings. Which, of course, falls on deaf ears.

“I really can help Phillip swim,” I say, brushing Legos off my lap as I stand. I walk into her open arms, taking a deep breath of her flowery scent. She drops a kiss on my head.

“I appreciate that, lovebug, but you know what would be an even bigger help?”

I crane my neck to see her face—golden hair, warm hazel eyes, and a big smile for me.

“What, Mommy?”

She taps my nose with her index finger. “Clean up this playroom before we get home.”

“Mom,” I whine, “why am I being punished? Jameson started it.”

With a tender swipe of fingers over my cheek, she replies, “Taking care of the gifts others have given us isn’t a punishment. It’s a privilege.”

Knowing she’s about to remind me of the bajillion kids who don’t have toys to play with, I stomp away from her.

“Fine,” I grumble, kicking a flattened soccer ball across the room.

---