Countdown

***Content Warning trauma and grief****

My older brother tried to hold back his disappointment as he pulled the last piece of the red balloon birthday wrapping paper off the shoe box holding a pair of sneakers that he knew my mom bought at a second-hand store. The blue and gold colored footwear was a knock off brand which was not what Liam wanted. He had talked about sneakers of the famous basketball player who lent his name to a brand label all year. We both knew it was unlikely mom would meet the request given she only saw us at these weekly meetings while she was in recovery. The cost was out of her reach even when she was working, which was not happening at this time. Our foster family was not able to pay for that kind of sneaker either. Liam smiled like he always did, “Yeah these are great, thanks Ma!”

My eyes peered over at the large circular clock above the doorway as the long arm moved over six signaling two thirty. Sunlight cascaded in through the window of the room casting shadows on the old orange flowered sofa that had a rip on one side held in place with duct tape. The mahogany coffee table was covered with birthday cards and left over containers of Chinese food along with fortune cookies that remained unopened. There were also a couple of items that social worker left out to draw some attention; a blue green ostrich feather that Liam had already twisted up in the fan and we had to pry it loose before the getting caught. Then there was a large seashell which my mother held up to each of our ears saying you could “hear the ocean.” I didn’t hear anything except Liam laughing but nodded my head at her just the same.

My mother left before the hour was up kissing us both on the forehead as she knocked on the office door of Linda Hastings, the social worker. We each scooped one of the cupcakes she brought while Liam put the sneakers on still smiling. As much I could tell that he hated them, he still needed something to wear as his old sneakers had holes in the soles. He put them on and he kissed the claddagh charm that hung off his neck on a gold chain. It was my dad’s and the only thing we had of him since his overdose the year before.

“Why the fuck do they ask us what we want if they are going to give us cheap knock off shit anyways?” He grinned while he double knotted the laces and tucked them under the middle flap of each sneaker. “Ah I know she tried.” His smile disappeared as he took a bite of cake and vanilla icing covered his upper lip.

“Hey bro, I’ll save my money from mowing the lawns this summer and I’ll get you those sneakers next year!” I wanted his smile back.

“Oh yeah?” My now fifteen-year-old brother patted me on the back, “Going to be hard to do, there aren’t too many lawns around here.” We both started laughing as we lived in an old mill city with vacant buildings. Most houses were multi family units that needed work. The homes that were kept up were small cottage style or old colonials with limited yard space.

“And another small problem is that you don’t have a lawnmower!”

“Well, I’ll borrow one!” I watched as he rolled his eyes and then put his arm around me.

“Don’t worry Connor, it is just a pair of sneakers. I’ll be okay, let’s get out of here. I want to stop at Marty’s. Let the social worker take you home."

“C’mon bro, I don’t want to go back there without you! Let me come with you!"

“Nah, not today. I need some time okay, little man. Linda has to drive you home anyways; I think it is in their regs or something.” He jumped up and did a jig with his new fake footwear causing me to break out in hysterics. I watched him walk away as Linda came for me and told me it was time to go.

I knew as soon I got back to the foster home; I wasn’t going to hang around. I borrowed one of the families “real kids” bikes and headed down to the spot near the tracks where I knew Liam and Marty hung out.

I climbed through the wire fencing which had broken open and sat behind some brush. It was not a first for me. I followed Liam all the time. He was the only family I had. He had been there through everything and I thought he was so cool. Even now in those ridiculous looking sneakers he displayed a confidence strutting around like the shoes on his feet were what every one should want.

I could see that there were a couple of girls with them. The smell of weed blew through the air even from the distance I was at. They had music playing and the girls were dancing when Marty yelled out,

“Hey Liam let’s play countdown, ya know lay on the tracks before the train comes and I’ll count down from your age, before you can jump up. Now that you are an old man, I bet you can’t do it!”

“Fuck you asshole!” Liam shouted back. I turned and saw the lights of a train about a mile away. My eyes fluttered and my breath stopped as I watched my brother lay down on the tracks and spread his arms out.

“No, no, no!” I whispered my voice was lost. I could not breathe. Marty started counting 15, 14, 13...8,7,6 and my mind faded until he reached 3,2,1. “Get up!” I screamed. No one could hear me with the music.

The train was a moment away as I watched my brother leap up and do a jig while the train passed. I let out a breath.

Then I knew I wanted to try.

Marty and Liam started climbing up the hill to leave with the girls. The music was shut off and I could see another train coming down the tracks in a distance. I ran down and yelled for my brother,

“Hey bro, I’m going to play too! Count for me will ya!” I laid down across the tracks as I watched my brother turn around with the look of sheer terror on his face.

“Shit Connor, get up! Get the fuck up!” Liam yelled.

I started counting myself “13,12,11…” and I could feel the train rhythm shaking the tracks underneath me. It felt closer than I planned. I stood up and froze as the lights cast on in front of me. The horn blared and I could not move. Just then I felt a push as my brother’s hand shoved me out of the way and I fell off into a ditch. My brother was down on the track as he screamed “My foot is stuck something is caught!” There was light and darkness at the same time.

I watched as my family disappeared in an instant.

I cried before the collision. I cried after the collision. I have cried every day for thirty years. Those seconds have stayed with me as I sit here at the same spot. Thirty years and the pain does not really heal it just lingers below the surface. I have never really left that day.

Some moments, some choices steal your life even if you do not deserve it.

I did try to do things to move forward. I went to school. I started a business. I have two kids. Yet here I am back at that day where I tried to beat the odds and lost everything.

I picked up the new sneakers while I sat on the hill. These were the “real ones” by the famous basketball player. My cigarette hung from my mouth as I got up and walked down to the tracks where I laid down. I felt the rhythm of the train as it came closer. I counted “15,14, 13, …8, 7, 6….3,2, 1.” I got up and kissed the claddagh, which was the only thing I was able to retrieve of my brother, as I held up the sneakers and wished Liam “Happy Birthday!” I stepped off the tracks and watched as the train blew past me. I then walked to the foster kids’ program to donate the sneakers which I have done every year since I lost everything.