TITLE: Hiding in the Spotlight
GENRE: Adult fiction/mainstream
I found it during one of our moves. My job was in photo albums, to unpack them, and while I was at it, view them too. I opened my baby album with its familiar pink cover, and instead of a sepia-toned eight-by-ten cherub baby, I saw a yellowed newspaper clipping. I laughed at the headline, which caught my brother Eddie's attention. He dropped the box labeled "fragile" by me and peered over my shoulder.
"That's you, stupid."
"Is too. Read it. It's all about the Great Gargantua Hatchling of 1964."
I snatched up one of the broken plates from his box and pointed it at him. "You're the monster."
He smiled. "Not in that story I'm not." Then he dashed before I could cut him. I considered throwing the plate at him but knew I would miss and hit a wall instead. We had rules, you know: respect the landlord, respect the house. We had a tendency to relax those rules after about a week. I had to wait.
I slumped down on the floor. I knew before I finished the article that it would be true. My vision tried to protect me by blurring in and out of focus. My ears started ringing. Both failed to shield me from the truth: That I was like this from the get-go. That the term "Some people are just born with it" can go the
other way and mean something negative, like when describing the otherwise unexplainable.