Excerpt: The Dream Weaver

You know how every family movie has that awkward dinner scene? I was living it. I sat across from my father, who looking at me pitifully occasionally over his pasta. We all chewed slowly, without speaking. The tension was so thick; I could feel it running down my throat like molasses with every bite. My mother’s cheeks were a rosy red, which seemed to drain from her eyes. It looked as though she had been crying, almost relentlessly. She sniffled occasionally, but once the moment passed the room was enveloped with silence once more.
I cleared my throat, unable to stand it any longer. “Are you okay mom?”
“Yes, dear.” She said, nodding briskly. It was unconvincing.
“How is the new slogan going?” My father said, not raising his eyes from his plate.
“I haven’t the slightest idea. I gave it to Shannon, but I haven’t been into work in a few days. I’ve taken some time off to spend with Kohl…you know, I’d really like to get to know him better. At first, I thought I’d never be able to forgive him, but he’s really not so bad. Let me rephrase that, he’s a complete idiot, but he’s my brother.”
My mother sniffled again, louder this time.
“…I guess we were just lucky I was there…” I said, unsure now. I dropped my fork to my plate, looking between the two of them. “You know, when he was shot.” I shrugged, “God only knows, otherwise I wouldn’t get the opportunity to know him. He’d be dead right now.”
My mother let out a squeak as she held back the flood of tears. I was confused, I didn’t know what I’d done.
“Erik!” My father exclaimed, placing a comforting hand on my mother’s back, “Don’t talk like that.”
I looked between them, “What’s the problem? Mom, don’t cry. Everything is fine. Kohl’s alright, he’s at my place right now.” I laughed uneasily, trying to break the tension. “You should’ve seen his expression when he saw my car. It was hilarious.” I stabbed my broccoli with my fork, thinking for a moment. “I am concerned though. His arm is really bothering him. He had troubles pulling down the seatbelt. Maybe there was more damage than they thought?”
My mother was crying openly now.
“It’ll be fine, Mom. They’ll look at his arm and everything will be fine.” I assured her, but she only cried harder. “Mom, what is it?”
“It’s happening all over again,” she sobbed, her words cut into me like a knife. “You did this before.”
I was growing defensive. Were they going to do this to me again? Why was it they always turned to me when they needed someone to blame? “Did what?”
Her response surprised me; it sent an icy shiver of fear down my spine. “You pretended…” Her words were drowned out between sobs.
I looked to my father, confused. His eyes were filled with pity. “Erik, son, we thought you knew.”
“Knew what? Is there something wrong with mom? What is it? Dad?” Words were flowing out, my stomach twisted in knots of fear.
My father would not look at me, but when he finally raised his eyes from his plate, they were full of tears. “Erik, Kohl is dead.”