As we drove back to the house, I could not help but worry about Wilson and how shaken by the crime he had been.
I was almost sure that something did not feel right about our bipolar diagnosis. We were never at the hospital and only had Mom be responsible for our health.
Every night when we were younger, we would hear raised voices in Mom and Dad’s room. They never seemed to be at peace and soon, our loving father began to withdraw into his shell. He used to be the gentlest and kindest person we knew.
The last fight Wilson and I heard them have before Dad had a stroke and died was about him confronting her as to why his pills carried her name. At this time, Mom had only informed us of our medical condition a week before.
She had withdrawn us from school and began to homeschool Wilson and me. At first, we felt really ill after taking the drugs she would give us, but after a few years, we got used to it and would even itch if we did not use our drugs.
Mom was still the one who gave us our daily doses of the drugs. Until yesterday, she had been so occupied with taking out the Kirsten’s that I began to suspect that there was something more to this than just Wilson having an episode and murdering someone.
“A penny for your thoughts?” Wilson asked me. I looked at him and wondered if he really did have bipolar or not. If he did, it would be dangerous to have such a discussion about my suspicions with him.
“Oh, nothing. Why were you acting that way when you just came in?” I asked him, hoping he was not going to say anything psychotic.
“I guess I was just disgusted by all that sight and the cruelty of the murder.” He replied.
I had chosen to ride with him. I was too tired to drive, so I drove to my apartment close by and parked my car. Then, got into Wilson’s car so we could go back to the pack and burn the bodies as soon as we could.
Mom had been upset, but I told her that I needed her to go back home and clean up as we all would, and then we would go to the hospital and see Preggo. We had not gone to see her in over twenty-four hours, and I was beginning to feel guilty.
“You know, you really can’t hide how you feel? I can read your emotions from your face.” Wilson said and pulled off the highway. He had given Mom the distance so we could have a little private time to talk.
“I don’t know Wilson. I just feel exhausted by all these things that have been happening recently. I strongly suggest we get Preggo away from the house immediately. I’ll bring it up in front of her when we get to the hospital, so Mom can not contest it. I will make it look like it was a unanimous agreement.” I proposed and Wilson nodded his head in agreement.
“I don’t think that that is all you have going on in your mind. You can trust me, sister.” Wilson said, and I felt the overwhelming urge to throw myself on his shoulders and weep like a child.
“It is fine, brother. I just have a lot going on at the moment. Nothing that I cannot handle.” I assured him, but Wilson was not giving up easily.
“Oh please, spare me all of that self-righteous crap. I can clearly see, in fact, even a blind person can see that something is clearly wrong.” He insisted and I sighed heavily.
“Let’s just go and burn the bodies. I want to be done with this already. None of the plans for the last twenty-four was in my itinerary. I also need some rest and good food too. We all require it. That is why I am suggesting that we all go over to the hospital to see Preggo. Who knows? Spending some time with her might just be the redemption that our hearts need.” I said and turned my face out towards the window.
I was pretending to be taking in the scenery around me and hoped that Wilson already had enough of the very depressing conversation I already had.
“So where do you think we can burn it?” Wilson asked me, shrugging his shoulders and readjusting his seat. He seemed to understand that I was not in the mood to be pestered about how I was truly feeling.
“Don’t be worried about that. I’m thinking we could start a little private burn fire where we also have meat roasting. We can mask off the smell there. Let’s say tomorrow? I think Preggo will be discharged from the hospital tomorrow, and we can easily throw in a private barbecue party for her. Have a different side for the bodies and another where we serve them from. The bodies will be part of the wood setup.” I suggested and I turned to look at Wilson.
He seemed to be studying me, and I gave him a quizzical look, wondering why.
“You are so smart. I wish you did not have to use your brain to process such things at all.” Wilson said and ruffled my hair gently.
“Wilson, do you really think that we have bipolar?” I blurted out, almost smacking my mouth for being so big. I began to run through the options of escape routes I had from the conversation if Wilson did not share the same feelings about the situation as I did.
“I haven’t had the courage to outrightly suggest that Mom might have just been hurting all of us all these years. I don’t want to believe the possibility of it being true. I would not know what to do.” He replied, and I could hear the sadness in his voice.
“I think we should see a specialist without Mom’s knowledge. What do you think?” I asked him and watched his eyes filled with horror.