"Beth, darling, will you check on Isaac and ask him what's really going on," Mom whispered to me back at home. We were peeling potatoes for dinner. From when he was little, Isaac wasn't allowed to touch the peelers because Mom was afraid that he would use them to harm himself.
"Why me?" I said, but it was useless to ask. Mom and Dad had decided the second time Isaac went missing before church, that it was up to me to find out where he disappears off to. He didn't just leave during those mornings, but also on weekends, in the middle of the night, and during the day. My parents never concerned themselves too much about those times though because he would always come back. Coming back in time for church, though, was another matter. Eighteen years of raising Isaac, and he was still a hardcore atheist. Their hundreds of questioning sessions and lectures on obedience, tried on Isaac many times before, resulted only in hoarse throats, cuts, and broken furniture.
Upstairs, Isaac's bedroom door was half-open. My older brother was old enough to be in college but as a "problem child," my parents allowed him to drop out of high school (he was failing) and stay at home instead. His room was the cleanest in the whole house. We all assumed that was his small way of showing gratitude and took it in with big smiles, knowing that there was some control over his universe.
"Isaac?" I knocked on his door and it creaked open a little more. Just enough to see that he was one leg out the window, on the roof beneath. "Isaac, what the freak are you doing?"
He hesitated, turned to me, eyes glancing behind me to make sure I was alone. A few seconds passed in silence. Then, "Well. Come on." A gesturing hand.
"Come on, where?" I got closer and peered out the window. Was it really safe to be doing this? How many times has he taken this particular route before? "Mom is going to freak if you run away twice in a day."
Isaac rolled his eyes. "So cover for me, or come along."
"Well, where are you going?"
At this, Isaac breathed a huge sigh of annoyance and grabbed my arm. I shrieked.
"Is everything all right?" I heard Mom shout from downstairs, her slippers making shuffling noises as she neared the stairs. "Beth? Isaac?"
"You want to die?" Isaac whispered, as he made an awkward exit from the window and yanked me after him.
"Everything's fine, Mom!" I yelled back. "We're just talking. Be down in a bit!"
And then we were tiptoeing off the roof, landing neatly onto the driveway, and sprinting out of the neighborhood with heads low. My brother smirked at me as we neared traffic, and I tried my hardest not to laugh out loud.
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