Page 2 of Property of Max
It takes time. It always does. Diaper changed, skin wiped clean with practiced hands. I talk while I work…nonsense, mostly, about Bree’s math homework or the weather…But I don’t stop. Silence feels too much like neglect.
Then it’s clothes. A soft t-shirt and joggers, something comfortable but real. Not pajamas. Never all day. Because Micah deserves more than lying in bed forgotten, like he’s part of the furniture.
“Looking sharp,” I tease, brushing his dark hair back from his forehead before sliding his arms gently into place. His sixteen-year-old body resists me, stiff and heavy, but I never let him seethe strain in my arms. He doesn’t need to know how hard it is. He only needs to feel wanted.
By the time I settle him into his chair, my back aches, but my heart eases. I roll him into the living room and park him where the morning sun slips through the blinds. Then I pull the communication device closer. The one that gives him a voice when his own body won’t.
It looks like a simple tablet mounted to his chair, but to Micah, it’s a lifeline. An eye-tracking screen that follows every flick of his gaze, every choice he makes. His world, spread out in glowing squares.
Icons. Words. Phrases. He only has to stare at one long enough for the machine to register it, and then it speaks for him in a flat, robotic tone. Not his voice. Not the warm, teasing one I knew for the first twelve years of his life, but stillhim.Still Micah, pushing through.
“Okay, champ,” I say, crouching beside him. “What’s it going to be today?”
His gaze flicks, deliberate, choosing boxes with slow precision until the machine finally speaks for him in its flat, mechanical voice: Stargate.
A smile breaks over my face. “Good choice. Old-school sci-fi. You’ve got taste.”
I brush my hand along his arm, squeezing gently.
“I’ll put it on before I leave. Don’t tell Bree, but you’re my favorite TV buddy.”
His lips don’t move, but his eyes light, and for me, that’s more than enough.
When I wheel him into place in front of the screen, I make sure the remote is nearby. Not because he can use it, but because it’s his time with the TV. Because normal things matter. They remind him he isn’t a burden, isn’t forgotten. He’s my brother. He’s stillhim.
And as I brush his teeth carefully a few minutes later, talking between swipes of the toothbrush, I can’t help the lump in my throat. He deserves so much more than this little apartment, these endless routines. But until he’s taken from this life, I’ll make sure he has me.
Because he isn’t my burden. He’s my family.
When he’s settled in front of the TV, Stargate queued up like he asked, I press a kiss to his forehead and slip into the kitchen.
The space is small, cluttered, but it’s ours. I dig through the bread bag, praying it isn’t stale yet, and start on Bree’s lunch. Peanut butter and jelly, apple slices, and a granola bar if I can find one at the back of the cupboard. I tuck in a sticky note with a dumb smiley face. She rolls her eyes at those, but I’ve caught her saving them, folding them into her notebooks. That’s enough to keep me doing it.
The coffeepot groans to life, loud and cranky, while I shove lunch into her bag. By the time it sputters, Bree comes padding out, hair sticking up like she fought a windstorm in her sleep.
“Morning, baby girl,” I say, pulling her close. She’s warm, soft, still half-asleep as she tucks her head against me. My chest aches with love. She’s the reason I get up. She and Micah are the only reasons I keep going.
She mumbles something about hating mornings, and I smile. “Join the club.”
I send her off to get dressed while I double-check Micah’s meds. Bottles lined in order, doses scribbled on sticky notes so the nurse won’t miss anything. It takes longer than it should, but I can’t afford mistakes. Not with him.
By the time I brush Bree’s hair and sling her backpack over her shoulder, I’m already running late. Coffee in one hand, car keys in the other, I herd her toward the door with a quick kiss to Micah’s forehead the second the nurse arrives. His eyes shift just enough to catch mine, and I pretend it’s him saying goodbye.
The drive to the summer school program is filled with Bree’s chatter. Something about a science project, a fight between her friends, and how she needs new markers because hers are “trash.” I nod, offer half-smiles, but my brain is already racing ahead to the day waiting for me. Eight hours on my feet, smiling at strangers while my body screams for rest. Bills to juggle, groceries to stretch, a brother who needs me, a daughter who deserves more than what I can give.
By the time I drop Bree off, I feel like I’ve lived a full day already. And I still have so much left to do.
But this is life. My life. And I’ll carry it, every last piece of it, with a smile on my face. Because I love them too much to ever put it down.
Chapter Three
Lila
“Do you think it’s possible for me to take tomorrow off?” My voice comes out thinner than I’d like, exhaustion bleeding through every word. “I don’t mind coming in on Sunday to make it up.”
Mr. Gumphrey doesn’t even look up from his paperwork. “No can do, Lila. You know the rules…two weeks’ notice.”
I swallow hard. “I’m sorry, sir. This was last-minute. My brother’s nurse called and said he might be coming down with something. I need to get him to the doctor before it gets worse.”
