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13 Years Later

Huey (Age 21)

Dewey and Louie (Age 18)

Huey woke up with the sound of his alarm clock ringing. He groaned and rolled over and turned it off. He yawned and wiped his eyes. He smiled weakly at a small picture that stood on his bedside table. He picked up gently and examined it.

On the picture was of him and his brothers when they were eight and the one who held them closely in a loving embrace was their late Uncle Donald.

Huey chuckled as he remembered what kind of day it had been.

He remembered that this was one of those days when Uncle Donald was in one of his better moods. He remembered this was one of Louie’s better days as well. He remembered that half of the time Uncle Donald had good days and half of the time Louie didn’t do so well. He closed his eyes and his hands holding the picture clenched with a feeling of frustration and anger.

Huey was angry.

He was angry at God for taking away his beloved Uncle Donald. He was angry at God for not being able to stop his mother from leaving him and his brothers with their Uncle Donald. He was angry at God for not allowing both Uncle Donald and Louie to have good days. He was angry at God for not letting him and his brothers know ahead of time who they were going to be dealing with when they came to live with their Uncle Donald.

Huey took a deep breath and released his grip on the picture.

Tears fell down his cheeks anyway.

Huey wiped away his tears and noticed his young niece Leah standing in the doorway staring at him.

He quickly put the picture inside his bedside table drawer instead of putting it back on top.

“Hey, sweetie,” Huey sniffed. “You ready for breakfast? Where’s Daddy?”

“Daddy’s still in bed,” Leah whispered and yawned and wiped her eyes.

Huey sighed, “Oh, Lou. Come on, let’s go make breakfast.”

He chuckled and got out of bed and took her hand in his.

“The secret to waking Daddy up is by the smell of breakfast and his favorite,” Huey smiled.

Leah giggled, “Okay.”

“Go in the kitchen and wait for me there,” Huey ordered.

“Yes, Uncle Huey.”

Once Leah was safely in the kitchen with Dewey who usually got up earlier than either one of them, Huey slowly walked into Louie’s room.

Huey’s blood ran cold when he heard the sound of moaning. He knew what that meant and rushed inside calling out Louie’s name and found Louie lying on the floor with his eyes closed.

“N-No!” Huey rushed towards Louie and took his hand in his.

He flinched. His brother’s hand was cold. He felt that it was colder than usual. He felt the tears fall down his cheeks again.

“L-Lou,” Huey whispered. “C-Can y-you hear m-me, little L-Lou?” He choked a sob.

Louie coughed and trembled in pain.

Huey saw that Louie was coughing up blood.

Shit! His brother’s illness was acting up again. He called for his other brother to call 911 and keep Leah away from the room. He continued to hold Louie’s hand in his and refusing to leave his side.

“H-Hang on, little L-Lou,” Huey whispered and stroked his hair. “T-Take a d-deep breath and try to b-breathe. Y-You can do this, Lou. Y-You can do this.” He choked. “J-Just d-don’t y-you DARE l-leave m-me. P-Please?” He choked. “P-Please, don’t you DARE leave m-me.”