The Last Laugh

One summer many years ago, the heat of the summer made me feel like I was melting. As usually happens to kids on days like this around the world, heat and boredom lead to trouble and mischievousness only children find. Trouble was not something I regularly had to deal with, being the good little girl that I was. During summers, it was hard to avoid. Steam raised from the dried up black soil on days like this. The length of summer can be difficult for active kids. What better entertainment than to watch somebody else getting into trouble and punished for their misdemeanors of childhood.

Waiting to get back to school, I lazed around the house on our couch. My halter-top twists on my body causing the flower pattern melt. The couch sticks to my bare back. The ripping sound makes me cringe as I pull away to get up from leather. My shorts bunch up and get worse with each step I take. It is a hot, humid miserable day.

For some odd reason, my mom decides to pick the hottest day of the summer for canning pickles. The vinegar tickles my nose causing me to sneeze all day. Mom wants my help setting up the jars. Just thinking about it makes my noise twitch. My mom jumps from the furtive nature of my brother as he walks up from his basement bedroom telling her he’s going out for some fresh air. Moisture in the air tells the story that fresh air isn’t outside today. Trusting him is like trusting an armed robber in a bank’s vault. His lies just cause trouble, more often than not for me. Most of the time, I willingly follow my brother, but through the years, he taught me from experience that trust has to be earned and he hasn’t earned it. Walking out the porch door onto the deck in the backyard, he gazes at the trees swaying in the breeze. A breeze is a rare occurrence on a day like today. I watch him go around the house to the front yard. He decides to walk across the road to the field. Always the follower, I trail after him. Maybe I am just curious what trouble he was going to cause, not so much a follower today. My curiosity caused me to get in trouble before and today is no different. I hide around the corner of the garage watching him cross the road wondering what he’s up to next. I know my brother is up to trouble. I’m not naïve enough to believe he isn’t up to something nefarious. I sneak over the lawn, past the garden, hiding between corn stalks to the ditch then through a culvert watching what he’s doing. He bends down and grabs a chunk of dirt tossing it like a baseball. I wait a second and raise my head just enough to get a good view of him across the road and feel a breeze as a dirt clod whizzes past my head feeling my hair move. That’s it. I’m up and out of the ditch in a flash. Diving into a pile of dirt at the edge of the field, I feel another dirt clod whizzing by me. The field is full of big clumps of dirt. I find a big one. My brother reaches for another clump just as my clump hits him square on the side of the head. My shot is much better than his ever was. My brother rubs the dirt out of his hair, his pointer finger rubs along his nose, and his eyes look turn black in anger. I turn and run as fast as I can tripping over clumps of dirt that would be beautiful to throw but I’m feeling quite terrified. Sibling rivalry causes me to think that I just may die today. My brother runs, jumps, and tackles me where I stand. He rubs clumps of dirt in my hair and in my face. I could only reach his tummy and chin but I did some damage too.

There’s a rumbling in the distance yet the sky is clear. First, humidity then storms is always the case for storms in Minnesota. My dad’s Ford truck rumbles down the road. The muffler roars the closer it gets. Running as fast as I could in the opposite direction, I hope my dad doesn’t see me. I reach the culvert. If I had to, I could stand on my own shoulders with still enough room to hide in it unseen. My brother reaches it too but not for long. Dad grabs my brother’s arm and chases after my wildly running form. Advantages of being daddy’s little girl are abundant but not on this day. We’re being dragged over the culvert onto the road back to the house, and I do believe I’ve never heard my dad say a few of these words. Trying to stay upright, I’m practically running next to my dad. I just keep telling my dad it wasn’t my fault. Intuition tells me that my dad knows. After all, he does understand the machinations of my brother’s mind. We reach the front of the house. I realize my dad’s intentions. The garden hose coiled up against the house has my dad’s attention. My dad grabs it whipping it away and turning it on full blast without letting go of my brother. When I see my mom run outside, I see my savior. I make a mad dash for her side.

“What’s going on here?” she says.
“Look at this mess! I’m cleaning them up.” Dad says.
“No you’re not!” and grabs me quickly taking me around the house to the basement door to shower me off in a warm shower in the basement. The last thing I hear is my brother’s scream as the first ice cold spray of water hits his body.

It was quite hot that day. The heat was magnificent yet the heat isn’t what I remember the most. The humidity is though. It made the mud stick to me like cement. As my mom turns the shower on and the bathroom gets steamy, I hear another blood-curling scream and laugh. My mom scolds me how my day will come. I know. It doesn’t matter to me because my mom came to my rescue that day saving me from my fate with an ice cold water hose. To this day, I still laugh at my brother when I think about it.

That night at supper, my brother was still dripping wet and looked like a lost puppy. He would have pulled it off, if only he wouldn’t have wailed on my leg with his foot.
After supper that night, lying in my bed toasty warm listening to the storm outside, I finally felt some vindication for all the trouble my brother caused thinking that sometimes fate is a wonderful thing.

When I think back on this day, I’m always gleeful of the way my parents decided hosing off my brother was best for him and a warm shower was best for me. Maybe luck is the better term. I still remember how the murder in his eyes just got deeper and deeper as I walked away with my mom. I just stuck out my tongue and grinned at him leaving him to deal with the cold garden hose and my retreating back with a wicked grin on my face. Heaven’s sweet rewards.