Visit Home Part one - True Story

"You cannot wear a tuxedo t-shirt to our brother's funeral. Neither can you wear a t-shirt that says big red John's." I said as I looked at two shirts that my older brother had laid out on the bed. "Do you really want people in this town I think we are the trash they think we are?"

"I don't care what they think. We're not responsible for what our parents did, or for these elite, pugnacious, jackasses who adopted our brother and tried to turn him into Fraiser light. Personally, I think he'd get a kick out of either one of these shirts. You don't have to prove anything to them. We survived all that sh*t, and some of those people who knew what was going on did nothing. So at this point, we could show up at that funeral f***ing naked and still be better than this whole goddamn town. Tell you what, you wear the tuxedo t-shirt with that skirt of yours. And I will wear the other t-shirt with my red plaid pants with the zippers at the ankles and the chain hanging off the pocket. Screw these people, he's our family." Donovan dropped onto the other bed.

" I know that. But a funeral a such a somber event and I'm not sure that jeans and t-shirts appropriate. The whole reason they didn't want us to come is because this is what they think we'll do, show up dressed like trailer trash, talking like hillbillies and acting like morons. I get that you want to do this whole rebel without a cause thing, because Jay would be amused. But this is not the time for that. And it isn't about what anyone else thinks. we're his family. So you will put on gray slacks, and the white shirt and the black sweater and you will be an adult. You'll have plenty of time to act like a juvenile later in the week."

" I think you forgotten who you're talking to. This has nothing to do with Jay. You want to put on your dress and show everyone how well you turned out. At the end of the day, you are still that little ginger girl whose parents sold her to the pedophile next door. No matter what you do, they will never see anything else when they look at you. And trying prove to them that you're anything else won't work. I know you don't want to hear that but that's the truth sister dearest." He rose from the bed, and grabbed his jacket. " I need a drink. I'll be across the street, I have a room key in my pocket so if you sleep." And then he left.

The whole exchange, brief as it was, left me feeling deflated. I was glad to be alone. Donovan's girlfriend had gone to the bar half an hour earlier because she was bored, and I've been glad to get rid of her. I wasn't entirely sure what I expected this trip to be. I wasn't looking for a catharsis, maybe just a little closer to the disaster at my childhood had been. Donovan, ever party boy, had picked fights with me for most of the drive. Some siblings who endure painful childhood's seem to be tightly bound to one another through those shared experiences. But in our case, it seemed as though we took more delight in pouring salt on each other's wounds.

I took the car and drove across town, and out into the hills. There was a vacant lot where our house had stood, but there were still remnants of us. The old swing set, pink faded, bars resting, with swing hanging by rusted chains. The painted tractor tires where our mother had planted flowers remained. There was also the broken down bits of an old dog house. I parked and got out, going to walk around the old property. My grandparents had bought it and had knocked the house down after everything had come out. Next door was the white clapboard house, looking somewhat dilapidated. I didn't approach it, it looked deserted. Those memories were not something I needed relive. I could that someone had tried to burned the house down. I had no idea happened to the others lived in that house. We had all been shift it around through foster care for years afterwards. It was hard to keep track is everyone.

I headed back to the motel. It was still early in the day but I didn't feel like seeing people. My need for solitude is sometimes well-known by those close to me. I was anticipating tomorrow would be a difficult day and I wanted to be prepared mentally and physically the toll it would take. My baby brother had taken his own life. His adoptive parents had asked did none of his siblings attend his funeral. But I decided that I needed to say goodbye. I could only hope that it wasn't the wrong choice.