I had always wanted a big brother. To feel his comfort and protection. Someone to watch out for me. To give me piggy back rides and teach me things.
I had a brother once. Tarick. My favorite memory of us is when he taught me how to pray. he told me that when you die you get a pretty crown and a pair of white wings. I was so excited for that forever after. He then knelt me down, elbows supported on the couch, fingers entwined together in front of my face, and I repeated the prayer words after him.
I even used to have a picture of him. it was when I was four, him thirteen, and he was helping me zip up my coat. Tarick was the only thing i looked forward to in foster care. He was the only person in the house I could relate to.
You see, Tarick had been adopted out of obligation. Ray, his dad, and my foster dad was the worst. Cindy was always good but she never really stood up for us.
You see, Ray only loved his own blood children, and Tarick was troubled. He really was, i mean every teenage orphan is troubled. He had 13 names for 13 families. I remember one time when ray had drug me by the back of my shirt, dragging me off to my room for bed time. Or the time when Tarick kicked a whole in the wall, and Ray punched him in the nose and made him bleed. I followed him into the basement and into the bathroom and watched him weep as he cleaned the blood off of his face. He told me he hated his dad, and really, I never blamed him. He didn’t mind me watching him clean himself up. I went up to him and gave him a hug around his legs, and told him it would be okay. as I stood there hugging his leg, he put his arm around my shoulder and I told him how much I loved him and that he was the best brother in the whole world. He knelt down in front of me and told me he loved me too. I haven’t seen Tarick since I left foster care. But he really was the best brother in the whole world. He still is and always will be. And I will never stop loving my brother, Tarick.