Seven Years Old
I’m pretty sure I have a good life.
No one ever says, “I love you,” but I’m sure they do.
We live in a cute little house on a middle-class street. We have enough food, warm beds, clean clothes, and a backyard to play in. From the outside, we probably look like any other family.
I have an older sister who is nine, and I want to grow up to be just like her someday.
Too bad my sister and I have to divide our loyalties.
She takes care of Dad.
I take care of Mom.
We never talked about it. We just knew.
That’s how families work… or at least I thought they did. Love wasn’t something you talked about. Love meant keeping everyone from falling apart.
I envy my sister sometimes.
Dad is easier.
He smiles a lot. He tells jokes. Everyone likes him. People laugh when he walks into a room.
Mom is different.
She cries a lot. She talks about dying the way other people talk about making dinner. On any given day, she might say she’s going to drive away and never come back. Sometimes she says she’s going to kill herself.
When you’re seven, you don’t understand depression, mental illness, or emotional trauma.
You just know that it’s your job to keep someone alive.
So I smile.
I smile all the time.
People notice. They tell me I have the prettiest smile. One of my uncles even calls me Smiley.
What they don’t know is that my smile isn’t just a smile.
It’s my job.
Dad does something similar. He jokes. He laughs. He makes everyone comfortable. Maybe that’s why my sister has the easier assignment. She helps hold him together.
My job feels heavier.
One wrong word…
One bad day…
One mistake…
And I worry our whole world could come crashing down.
My sister remembers the day the police came and took Mom away. I’m thankful I can’t remember much about it. I don’t ever want to see her leave again. I don’t want her in a hospital.
I definitely don’t want her in a grave.
So here we are.
She’s nine.
I’m seven.
Together we’ve got this family under control—or at least we think we do.
She’ll make sure Dad knows he’s doing a good job holding everything together.
I’ll make sure Mom has one more reason to stay.
Everything will be fine.
We’ll smile.
We’ll pretend.
And no one outside these walls will ever know otherwise.
