Burden

Rain was in the air. Even as Laura stared outside through the windows, she could feel the raindrops forming. Soon the muddy clouds would start swirling overhead and the dark day would grow darker. ‘I don’t have an umbrella’, she realized, ‘and neither does that thing.’ Silently, she swore under her breathe.

The monotonous buzzing irritating her ears died down as the teacher concluded the preaching. Chairs scraped against the floor, excited chatter broke out, and shouts of ‘good-bye’s and ‘see you tomorrow’s rang across the class. Laura stayed, staring outside the window. She dawdled for another 5 minutes before - with a sigh that marked the end of her peace - rising and packing her bag. The classroom door slammed open, and the routine cry reached her ears.

“Your brother’s in trouble!”

Again she felt the building rage tugging at the back of her head. Laura threw down her books and pencils and ran after the announcer, who brought to her the same news at the exact same time each day. He led the way through the routine array of corridors and passing doors until they reached the one marked 1-5, where the burden was.

The burden was smiling. As it lay on the ground, bruised from head to toe, with punches still flashing above him, it still was smiling that same dumb smile. Laura felt that familiar anger; only, the emotion wasn’t all directed towards the bully. But this was Laura’s responsibility so she lashed at the puncher.

“Lay off him!”

She stood protectively over her smiling obligation. As if recognizing the daily savior (did the thing even know she was its sister?) it reached up at her. The bully recognized her as well. The taunting repetition of ‘retard, retard, Laura’s smiling retard’ died down and the oncoming punches stopped. Still, the bully laughed in triumph as he went.

“Auah… Auah!”, cried the responsibility, reaching upwards towards Laura. She didn’t take the hand. The rage was building again.

“Get up! You’re a guy, aren’t you? Can’t you at least protect yourself?”

The contempt was clear in her voice. When ‘Auah’ was all the reply she got, she looked to the side and scowled. The scowl deepened as it got quieter (the announcer had already disappeared as soon as he had shown her the way - as if she didn’t know!) and the pitter patter of falling rain reached her ears. ‘I don’t have an umbrella’, she recalled, ‘and neither does that thing.’ She kicked at the thing’s direction and turned sharply on her heels and stomped down the corridor.

The pouring had begun during the small interval. The world had gone gray. Without checking to see whether the thing was following or not, she marched on, back to the classroom where she grabbed her bag, then to the front door where she changed her shoes. A shine caught her eyes. A single, bright yellow umbrella lay abandoned by its owner.

“...I don’t have an umbrella.” Laura muttered.

With a soft twang a yellow light pierced through the grayness. Onwards she went, no longer worried about getting wet. Just once she turned back, checked the thing’s silhouette entering the rain, twirled the umbrella once in her hands in the moment of hesitation, then faced the front and raced through the rain. The thing would follow - it always did.

She entered the house. She dropped the dripping umbrella on the floor, watched the raindrops forming a puddle for a while, and went into the bathroom to pick up a towel. Laura sat by the window watching the streets. Soon enough, the thing appeared in her view. She went down and opened the door and threw the towel over the drenched obligation. It was still smiling. Laura trembled in rage. She wanted it out of her sight.

Sitting in her room with the doors closed, she thought back to the day the responsibility was handed to her. Previously, it had been her mother’s responsibility. But her mother got herself a decent job and had to work to fill the family’s stomachs. Leading the burden by the hand, the mother had called Laura out to the living room. She still remembered that day, the rain falling as it was today, and the smiling burden looking from the mother to the sister.

"Laura, dear, you have to look out for your brother. You have to be kind to him. He may not understand very well, but he can understand what’s happening.” Her mother had said, “From today onwards, he is your responsibility, Laura.” That had been the binding sentence. She stopped grumbling and she started taking care of the burden. She woke it up in the mornings, fed it the bread, took it to school, chased away the bully, and led it back home. The thing had become her responsibility. Her actions were accompanied by the chains that linked her to the responsibility and she couldn’t break free.

“Understand what? All he does is grin that sickening grin.”

There was knocking at the door. It would be the obligation. There was no one else in the house. Laura didn’t rise from her seat.

“What do you want!”

“Auah… coohis!”

Her mother had always figured out what the thing was saying. But Laura couldn’t. With another utterance of disgust, she bothered to rise out of the chair. A crack of light lit up the darkened hallway, and there stood the smiling little burden, holding a small bag of crumpled cookies in its hands.

“Coohis!” It lifted the bag up to Laura. She had kicked at it and it was offering her cookies! That familiar rage built up again and she knew what it was. Disgust filled her, but this time it wasn’t only directly towards the burden. She felt disgusted with herself for feeling repellent towards the duty. So she took it, the bag of cookies the burden held up. Ah, but it was smiling! That same dorky smile that just wouldn’t disappear. And the rage built up again and she slammed the door in his face. She sank down by the door, head between her knees, and looked at the crumpled the cookies. How twisted she was, being disgusted at her own brother! She would be kind to him now - she would try. Because he was her responsibility, and they had only each other to lean on.

#sarahchang #fiction