Silver Bells: Part 1

I…remember…growing up a Redfield. Mom was always gone, Dad was always gone, Chris was always in trouble… and, well, me? I always went to school 8:00am to 3:00pm and came home to an empty house for at least another three hours. Rarely in trouble, always on time. Before Chris would come home from sports or other activities, I would find myself writing or reading; of course, after I finished my homework.

Mom always got home before Chris; her job ended around 6:30, and she would come in and pat my head, kiss my forehead, promptly not saying a word and then start into the kitchen where she would begin to make dinner. Mom never had to say anything to me to make me feel loved; she had a silent, imperious aura that was full of love—something that I tried to say Chris had, but he would deny it with yelling at me, slamming his door—or if I was unlucky, a tickle fight. At 7:00pm, my father would straggle in from a long day at the restaurant, pulling on his tie, and rolling his sleeves up. He used to laugh when he was see me curled up on the couch and then approach me with the widest grin.

"What'cha readin' tiger?" He would always ask in his fatherly-voice. HE smelled like spoiled eggs; he was a chef at a five star restaurant, well, he was actually the trash boy—but he was aspiring to be the chef, and constantly reminded us that he would obtain the job someday.

"Just an English literature book. I'm reading the stories in the back." He would look to me in bewilderment and cock his head.

"You're reading an English textbook?" He would rephrase and then inch closer my face, trying to see over my shoulder. "If I had read my text books at your age, I might have only been half as smart as you." His comment brought a huge grin to my face, and he rubbed my hair; fluffing the tops of it up and ruining my pony tail.

"Keep it up sport."

My dad then left to enter the kitchen, where from the shadows on the wall I could always see their figures; he would approach her caringly, and then wrap his arms around her waist and give soft kisses to her neck. My mother would laugh and then turn around; and they would kiss. Their relationship was, in my eyes, perfect; they rarely fought. Even though mom was a well-trained attorney, and Dad was a goofy trash man; they were perfect for one another—It's not like I came from a broken home.

However, I would always watch mom's eyes glance at the clock as it neared 7:45. She would start to tap her feet on the ground and curl her lips inward—her anger was very relevant. Dad always tried to keep her calm.

"I'm sure he's fine, hunny . He probably just got caught up in some high school sports team thing. He'll be home any minute, I promise." Mom slammed her dinner plate onto the table as she set the table. Mom was also the angrier of the two, not in a verbal way, but in a fuming way; like one word from the person that set her off would make her explode.

"I realize that, Christopher, but it doesn't hurt for your son to call." She finished slamming plates on the table, and then smiled; pushing the anger down. She always did.

"Claire, it's time to eat." She would shout to me, but I would gulp. Chris and I have always been close, but lately he's been getting in later, and later; with no explanation.

When we were younger, he would show me tricks; He was into martial arts and combat sports, so he would show me a few things. My mom used to worry that being able to throw a knife before I knew how to take care of my hair would cause my puberty to be late. Not that when I was young I even knew what puberty was.

Chris and I were close; we always have been. I'd listen to him when he had girl problems, well, problems in general. And because I was too young to have so many problems, he would help me with homework, and watch girly movies with me when I was sad. Yet… he started being distant when he started his junior year in high school. I remember curling up, worrying about him before simply sighing and going to eat my dinner with mom and dad.

Chris would arrive home around 10:00pm, every night now. He's smell of heavy smoke, and he would act exhausted. Mom was always quick to jump on him. Dad would be tucking me in bed when they would start to fight.

"I waited for hours for you to come home! The least you could do is call!" And then the fight I listened to for months would begin. Nearly the same thing was said every time they fought. My day began and ended the same; but on December 12; when I was ten, was the moment that changed how the dynamic of my family existed.

I remember that I was lying awake up in bed, listening to them fight when Chris finally told my mother to shut up; however much they fought, shut up was never used.

"You think you know everything, but you don't!" I sat up, his yell shook the walls of the house.

"You think you know everything! You act like you're in control; well, you're not! You can't control me."

I didn't have to see the conversation to know that mom had taken a few steps back, shook her head; she fought the tears.

"I'm not trying to control you, Chris. I'm trying to protect you; you have a curfew of 7:30, unless you call and tell me what's going on. It's not that hard. I worry about you, I love you." I instantly sat up, looked toward my door and then crawled out of bed. Mom used the three words. If she said that, things must have been getting serious. I poked my head outside of the door and watched as Chris threw his hands up.

"I don't need this. I don't need you, and I don't need to be babied." He spat back at her, but she shook her head in desperation. "I'm gone!" he yelled and then went to turn. Tears hit my eyes without my knowing it.

For a fraction of a second, he saw me, and remorse covered his face like a hot rag; but what had been said was said. He left. Slammed the door on the way out, and headed back out into the winter cold. My dad stood there, mouth ajar and looking at my mother; he wasn't sure what to say, none of us were. But mom, choking back her tears shook her head and unfolded her arms. That's when she saw me.

"Oh, Claire." She started but by that time I was crying so hard everything she told me was incoherent. She held me. Tried to assure me that Chris would come back, but I wasn't sure that he would. You could never be sure.

Mom and dad spent the next two weeks looking for him, driving around, trying to see if he was out on the streets; Christmas Eve came and went, and they never came home. I fell asleep on the couch that night, waiting for mom and dad… but they never came.

"Claire." Warm hands touched my cold arm, my eyes began to flutter as the mornings sun rays peeked in through the window. Chris kneeled above me, red, soggy eyes drip wet tears. "Claire, I need to tell you something."

"You're back." I commented and smiled. "Does mom and dad know?" I leaned toward him, trying to hug him, but he pulled me firmly away from him, and held me still. His face twitched when I mentioned mom and dad. He tried to speak, but words caught in his voice. Suddenly, it seemed like he couldn't look me in the eye anymore.

"Chris?" I asked, and then saw the emptiness under the tree. I looked at him again.

"…they hit black ice." At first I didn't understand until fresh tears rolled down his face in anguish. "Mom and dad, they were trying to find me. They… they…" His started crying too hard to finish his words, and I didn't need him to.

"Mom, dad…" I said, tears started to build in my eyes as well. "Where are they Chris? Are they okay? Can we see them?" Chris shook his head and then suddenly grabbed me, pulling me into his chest; burying his tears in the top of my hair. I remember how warm he felt… and yet, how cold he felt all at the same time that day.

"Where's mom…?" I added, the realization having not sunk in quite yet. Chris simply wept, but I found myself unable to shed tears; I simply watched the Christmas tree.

Nothing would ever be the same 'routine' again.

Nearly half a year later, after Chris' seventeenth birthday, Chris joined the air force and left me here. I spent a week at my aunt's and then a week at my grandma's, and then a week at my uncles. When Chris left, I lost my only legal guardian. Legally, the adoption services were wondering where, and what to do with me. Chris wrote to me from boot camp, and visited as much as possible. He promised that once he finished boot camp, he would do his best to get me on base with him. However, boot camp came and went, and he was unable to do so. They had him deployed in too many different basses, and the court didn't find it fit for an eleven year old to be moving around so much; I needed a stable place.

I spent exactly one year in foster care before writing to the judge that I would like to be sent to a boarding school. My foster care parents were neglectful and mean. Within six months of sending the letter; I was off to a boarding school for my 8th, through my high school years.

Chris came and visited me as much as he could, he came to all my birthdays; Easter, labor day, veterans day, Thanksgiving, and even Halloween; but he never came on Christmas, he never showed on Christmas vacations. Nothing. Therefore, I spent Christmas Vacations with friends; they didn't seem to mind me, I was friendly and I helped clean. Plus, they never had to buy me gifts because I didn't like Christmas, and I wouldn't celebrate it without my brother. I was absent every Christmas and Christmas Eve, no matter who's house I was at.

I saved money to rent a hotel room, or a motel room. Whichever I had the money for, and would sleep those two days. Many people saw what I did as "religious", that I was stepping back into a true Christmas spirit by fasting and not getting mixed up into the materialistic ideals that society had made… but to be honest, I mostly spent Christmas weeping, trying to get ahold of my brother; I knew why he didn't answer. He was probably weeping, just as I was.

And then one fall, during my sophomore year of university, my brother Chris hadn't contacted me in months, so on the short break we had in September, I went to find him. Because he was no longer in the Air Force—we said we would get a place together. I transferred to a University only four hours away from Raccoon City so that, even though I knew we couldn't get a place together, we could at least visit more often.

And, well, as you know. That's when my life changed, too.