Lost and Found

Part 1: The Lost-1

Part 1: The Lost

There were two constants in my childhood: going to church every Sunday and arguments. It was mostly Dad and Leon who argued, but sometimes Dad would argue with Mama about Leon. Although, I guess he wasn’t so much arguing with her as he was loudly telling her what was wrong with my big brother and why he should have more respect for his family. Leon is a lot older than I am. He was ten when I was born. By the time I was old enough to sense the household tension, Leon was already well into his teens and was just as stubborn as Dad.

At church we were a normal family, except that Leon seemed even less interested than I, the squirmy preschooler, in what the preacher said, and he didn’t mingle with the others the way Mama and Dad did. Sometimes if our parents talked to the neighbors for too long, he’d vanish until it was time to leave then suddenly appear by the car. If Dad demanded to know where he had been, Leon would just say, “In the bathroom. Want details?” I thought it was funny, at least until it started another argument.

Usually Mama told me to go play in my room or outside whenever things heated up. She played music in hopes of drowning out the shouting so I couldn’t hear. At first, I thought it was normal and that everyone got louder as they grew older. When I first started going to daycare and noticed all the other families getting along, I started to wonder. I asked the other kids if their parents or siblings fought, and about what.

“Mommy gets mad at Daddy when he leaves dirty dishes in the sink.”

“Liz and Chelly fight over who gets the bathroom first in the morning.”

“Daddy yells at the TV a lot.”

Those were nice families though. I knew a few from around the neighborhood or played with them at the park. Dad and Leon were the only two there, if Mama ever convinced them to go together, who made a point of not looking at each other or speaking to each other in case they started arguing and made people stare. When Dad wasn’t there, Leon was just like any of the other big brothers or sisters who pushed their siblings on the swings or helped them climb up the ladder to the top of the slide. He let me sit on his shoulders while I played on the monkey bars until I was strong enough to pull myself across. “Jungle Joshy” he would call me.

Leon was different in general when Dad wasn’t around. Sometimes if Dad worked late, Leon would play with me while Mama made dinner. He taught me how to dance. He would turn on the radio and dance around the living room with me. He was really good. He could do turns on his toes and jump and spin in the air and do things that I, in the clumsiness of childhood, could never do. I tried every once in a while, but I usually ran into furniture and Mama would call out, “Joshua, did you bump your head on the sofa again?” or “Leon, please make sure Joshua doesn’t hurt himself.”

Then Dad would come home. I learned to listen for his car in the driveway, since that meant Leon would quickly turn off the music and grab a toy for me to play with instead. If he didn’t, Dad would come in and shout, “Goddammit, Leon! I told you I will NOT have that queer prancing in my house! You are corrupting your brother! I swear if he turns out like you I’m kicking you both out!”

Mama did her best to calm him down, but mostly I would have to go to my room again until things were quiet and dinner was ready. Either way, I never danced where Dad could see me, and neither did Leon.

When I was five and Leon was fifteen, things got even worse. Leon would disappear for hours at a time. If Mama asked or Dad ordered him to say where he was going and when he would be home, Leon would say, “I’m going out with friends, I’ll be home when I’m back.” Leon slammed the door a lot. It made Dad angry and he ranted off and on until Leon came home, then he’d switch back to shouting at him for a while.

By that age, I was curious as to what they argued about. No one else yelled as much as they did, not as far as I knew. After Mama shooed me into my room one day, I opened my door a crack and listened. They said some words I didn’t know, but just from the tone, I knew Dad was the angriest and Leon was the one fighting back.

“—an abomination! A sin against God! I thought going to church would straighten you out, but it’s like you want to burn in Hell!”

“I’m already in Hell! The only difference is it’s not hot enough and even Satan isn’t as crazy as you are!”

“You watch your tone with me, boy! If you don’t like the roof I’ve put over your head and the food I put on this table then you can pack your things and go!”

“Maybe someday I will! Living in a cardboard box would be better than living here because at least in a cardboard box I don’t have to listen to your bigoted bitching all the time!”

“Don’t you use that language in front of your mother!”

“Oh, so you can call me a faggot and a queer and tell me I’m going to Hell every other night, but I’m not allowed to complain? That’s bullshit!”

There was a smacking sound and Mama cried, “Adam! Don’t hurt him!”

“You stay out of this, Sandra! This boy needs to learn his manners or he’ll never grow up to be a real man! He’ll just be another disrespectful punk burdening society!” Leon sniffled and Dad got even louder. “Now he’s crying! Oh for God’s sake, can’t you even act like a man for once? What did I do to deserve having a pansy like this for a son?”

Mama urged Leon to go to his room. When I heard the footsteps, I quickly shut my door and went to play with my trains. I hadn’t understood everything, but I knew about the people in cardboard boxes. Sometimes when Mama took me shopping with her I’d see them by the dumpsters behind the grocery store. I asked what they were doing there and Mama said, “That’s their home. They have nowhere else to go. God have mercy on them.” Leon said he would rather be a box-person, as I called them, than live in our house. I was sad and scared at the thought of losing my brother.

Dad and Mama were still arguing in the living room. I snuck out of my room and down the hall to Leon’s room. When I knocked, he didn’t answer. “Leon? Are you there?”

The door opened. Leon had his hand to his face. “Hey, Joshy. What’s up?”

“Leon, are you really going to live in a cardboard box?”

Leon frowned and his shoulders drooped. “I—I honestly don’t know, kid.”

I hugged him around the middle. “If you do, I’ll come visit you lots. Maybe I could get a box too and stay with you sometimes.”

“Oh…Joshy…” Leon backed into his room with me still attached and closed the door behind me. He knelt down so we could be face-to-face. There was a big red mark on his cheek. “I don’t want to leave you here with D—uh, with no big brother. I know it might be…scary when Dad and I fight, but you mean a lot to me and I really hope I can stay. It’s just…Dad and I don’t agree on a lot of things, and he wants me to be something I’m not.”

“A real man?”

Leon flinched at the words. “Yeah. A real man.”

“Is that like in Pinocchio? Where he wanted to be a real boy?”

That made Leon smile a little. “Sort of like that.”

“Then can we ask the Blue Fairy to come make you a real man so you and Dad will be nice to each other?”

“It doesn’t really work like that, Joshy. What Dad thinks—one of the things we don’t agree on is what a ‘real man’ is. Dad doesn’t think real men can dance or think things different from what he thinks. It makes him upset that I’m not…not exactly like him. Maybe someday he’ll realize that I’m just as much of a man as he is, if not more so.”

“You yell a lot like Daddy.”

Leon’s smile turned sour. “I guess I do.” His eyes got watery and he sniffled again. He quickly wiped his eyes with the base of his thumb. “Um, Joshy, why don’t you go back to your room? I um, I have homework to do.”

“Okay.” I gave him another hug. “I love you, Leon.”

“I love you too, Joshy.” He ruffled my hair then opened the door for me.

I crept back to my room. Mama came to check on me a few minutes later. “Why doesn’t Daddy think Leon is a real man?” I asked her.

She was quiet for a while. “Daddy has his ideas and Leon has different ones. A-And Leon…Leon does some things that Daddy thinks only girls would do.”

“Like dance?”

“Yes, for example.”

“But Leon’s a really good dancer. He dances better than all the girls I know. When Kate dances she falls over, and Tammy just jumps up and down and says that’s dancing.”

“I know, sweetie, but your father doesn’t see it that way. It wouldn’t matter if Leon was a better dancer than every girl in the world, your Daddy would just say that means he’s more of a girl than every other girl in the world.”

“He’s not a girl though. He pees standing up, like me. Girls can’t do that.”

Mama chuckled. “No, they can’t. I mean Daddy thinks Leon acts like a girl, and that upsets him.”

I pouted. “That’s stupid. Leon does boy things too, like play basketball at the park and watch TV shows about snakes and lizards. Girls are scared of lizards. Leon’s not scared of anything.”

“I’m sure Leon is scared of something, even if it’s not lizards.”

“He’s not scared to live in a cardboard box.”

Mama was quiet again. She bit her lips and her eyes teared up. She patted me on the head. “Leon’s not going to live in a cardboard box. He just said that because he was angry.” To this day I don’t know if she really believed that.

A few days later, Dad sat me down while Mama was working at the thrift store and Leon was out with friends. “Son,” he said, “I know you hear me shouting at your brother a lot, but it’s for his own good. If I don’t get some sense in that boy’s head soon, he’ll never be right.”

“My teacher says ‘Right is relative.’ Maybe what’s right for Leon is just right for him, but it doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”

Dad’s face turned a little red and all his facial hair bristled like a porcupine. “There’s right and there’s wrong. I don’t know what else that teacher has been telling you, but the Bible tells us what is right. Your brother has been doing things the Bible says are wrong. I don’t want you growing up like that, you hear me? You be a good boy and God will smile upon you, understand?”

I didn’t really, but I considered myself too young to be loud enough for an argument and simply nodded. Dad patted me on the head and told me to run along and play.