The suffocating stench of smoke hit me like a bulldozer as I opened the passenger door to my brother’s black Cadillac. Why? was the only thought my muddled brain could muster. Tears filled my eyes, blurring the heart-wrenching scene before me. Three lighters sat in the dusty cup holders. Small scraps of white paper were strewn about the foggy interior. My lungs were overwhelmed by pale smoke. I clasped my hands over my nose. I didn’t want that awful substance to damage me as it had my sibling.
I backed away from the car, slowly, as if in a daze. I felt hopeless. Do I tell my parents? I don’t want my brother to hate me. How can I save him? I nearly jumped out of my skin when the garage door slammed, shaking the bikes hanging by the ceiling. A muscular, 6 foot 5 figure appeared in the doorway. It was my brother, my loving, and creative, artistic brother. I quickly wiped my eyes, willing him to believe I hadn’t seen the catastrophe within his car.
“Ready to go?” I asked, struggling to mask the sadness in my voice with perky enthusiasm. He grunted in response and dragged himself into the driver’s seat. I sat next to him and rolled down the windows, praying for the smoke to disappear, as we sped away to my hockey game. Snow banks climbing the trunks of dark, sullen trees began to blend together. A mixture of tears, smoke, and heartbreak clouded my vision. I knew I should focus on preparing for the game, but my mind strayed to childhood memories with my beloved brother.
Reality melted away as images of Lego blocks, sword fighting with sticks and pillow forts swam about in my head. “Last one downstairs is a rotten egg!” He lifted me off the cherry-oak floor and we raced to the basement. Laughter echoed off the white walls of our basement hideaway. Together, our curiosities of the world were unlimited. We crept through forests, pretending to be hunters. In winter, we constructed snow forts fit for a king. Not only was he my brother, he was my best friend. Before this year, I had never suspected the pain of the future. I never knew I would lose my brother to drug addiction.
The deafening blare of rap music dragged me back into reality. My gaze remained glued on the empty shell of the boy I used to call my brother. His glassy eyes were fixated on the road ahead, but his mind was obviously lost in a different world. I opened my mouth to say something, anything to produce a smile on his ashen face. But no words came. I was afraid. I was petrified by the thought of getting in a car accident. He was at the driver’s seat, his hands gripped the wheel and his feet tapped the pedals, but my brother was not driving the car. He was caged inside a stoned seventeen-year old. I didn’t trust this dazed stranger to drive safely. I longed for my brother. The brother I grew up with. The brother whom I love.
Defeated, I craned my neck out the window to breathe fresh air from outside. In the past, he would have told me to bring my head in, that it wasn’t safe. I waited for the comfort of his crackly voice, but music was the only sound.
We pulled into the parking lot and I hopped out. My friends called to me and my coach waved. I pulled my hockey bag out of the trunk and nearly cried as my brother drove away. He didn’t even say goodbye. Sorrow threatened to swallow me. Why? was the only thought my brain could hold on to. Why? has reverberated through my mind ever since.