So Here I Stand

While I was sitting around worrying about someone, I began to think about writing a story like this. This is what came out. I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: Don't own the turtles...blah, blah...you get it, right?


So here I stand. Pacing back and forth, passing the time, and wondering if everything will be alright.

He left about five hours ago. Just left…as always. Those eyes that bore into me before he turned on his heal and walked out the door still haunt all of my passing thoughts. The snarl on his face, the anger in his stance, every one of his muscles taut and twitching as though it was taking every ounce that he had not to hit me. I have seen all of it before. Many times. Every time it ends the same. He turns and leaves without resolution. And I am left behind.

So here I stand. Pacing back and forth, passing the time, and wondering if everything will be alright.

I mindlessly wander to the kitchen, letting each of my fingers run lightly over the fragile porcelain cups left dirty in the sink after a night of neglect. I begin to wash them, for only something to do. The lukewarm water runs over my hands and I let my eyes close and take a deep breath, trying to will the anxiety out of my body. He leaves all the time. It's common place. Especially after a fight, which again is common place. He's probably out on the rooftops with Casey having the time of his life. I don't know what he does while he's up there alone. Sometimes I don't want to know. All I know is that he is not here. He is up there, out of my protection, out of my control, and it is my fault. He is not here.

So here I stand. Pacing back and forth, passing the time, and wondering if everything will be alright.

I bite my lip and move to the couch, sitting heavily within its soft, forgiving cushions. The familiar fabric rubs lightly on my skin and I sigh. I glance at the clock for what must be the one-hundredth time, and try not to make a sound as my worry heightens. It's three in the morning. Five and a half hours since he left. I keep telling myself this isn't unusual. He's stayed out much later and much longer before. He's been lucky. All the times going up there and he hasn't gotten hurt. Not badly anyway. He knows how to take care of himself. Out of all of my brothers he is definitely the most street smart. This comforts me a bit. But it only takes one time. One mistake. One tragedy to put an end to it all. My anxiety builds. I am no longer able to sit.

So here I stand. Pacing back and forth, passing the time, and wondering if everything will be alright.

Why do I have to rise to him the way I do? It would be so easy to just step down, just step away from the situation. Not to let it escalate. To just let it go. But sometimes he can be so arrogant, so stubborn, so callous. I can't let that slide. I can't allow him to walk all over everyone. But then I wonder, am I so different? Do I push things on them as well? I know I can be bossy, overbearing, and sometimes, lets face it, the proverbial stick in the mud. But I'm trying, I really am. I just want them all to be safe. I want them all to succeed. And yet here I am, pushing him away every moment of every day. Pushing him to leave the lair and actually put himself into danger. What kind of big brother am I?

So here I stand. Pacing back and forth, passing the time, and wondering if everything will be alright.

I wander down the hall, stopping in front of my baby brother's door. I lay my hand against the cold metal and trace a soft pattern with my shaking finger tips. I hear a soft snore emitting from behind the door and I let my mouth turn upward for a short moment. At least he and Donny are safe. They sleep comfortably behind closed doors, their dreams running quickly through their heads. I am not allowed that luxury. Not while he's still out there. I would never find sleep even if I tried. My teeth clench and anger begins to take me. Why does he do this? Why does he leave? Doesn't he know what it does to me? Doesn't he know that I worry. Doesn't he know that I care? But he leaves anyway.

So here I stand. Pacing back and forth, passing the time, and wondering if everything will be alright.

I walk briskly back down the hall, my hands clenching tightly as I go. I continue my deep breaths, beginning to find each one harder to take. My eyes wander again to the clock. Four A.M. Six hours. Six hours with no word. He could need help. He could be hurt somewhere with no one to save him. He could be stabbed. He could be shot. He could have fallen and broken every bone in his body. He could be bleeding alone in an alley way, his last seconds of life escaping him and…Stop it! Stop thinking like that. He is fine. He will be fine. He is always fine. I push my palm roughly, painfully into my temple, willing those horrible thoughts out of my head. I walk to the back of the couch and rest my hands on the back, needing the support.

So here I stand. Pacing back and forth, passing the time, and wondering if everything will be alright.

I turn on the T.V. and mindlessly flip through channels. News, sports, infomercials. They fly by the screen in a blur of glowing light. None of them bring me comfort. Nothing can take my mind off of the situation at hand. I would think I would be used to this by now. The leaving, the waiting, the wondering, the guilt, the regret. But each time it gets harder. Each time I worry more. Each time I wonder if those will be the last words we have because I pushed him away to do something stupid, because I chose to continue on with another fight, because I was unwilling to stop the never ending pattern. The channels go by quicker as my nervous hands speed on the remote. I finally can't take the noise anymore and flip the T.V. off, enveloping the room back into darkness. The only light comes from the small digital clock across the room. Four-thirty. My legs become restless once again.

So here I stand. Pacing back and forth, passing the time, and wondering if everything will be alright.

My ears suddenly pick up soft movement. I turn my head, the stiff muscles in my neck screaming as I look over my shoulder over to the door. Footsteps. His footsteps. My heart quickens and I turn, watching the door as if life depended on it. The sound of it opening is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard and as I watch him walk through the door, I silently let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. My eyes scan him quickly. No blood. No noticeable bruises. He looks ok. I notice he has stopped moving and I slowly bring my eyes up to meet his. He is staring at me.

I want to yell at him. Scold him for leaving things unresolved. Scream at him for worrying me. Apologize for being so stupid. Beg him not to leave like that again, but I find no words. All I find is relief. He is fine and he is home. Our eyes meet, and all that needs to be said is communicated through our gaze. I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. All of it was so stupid. Next time will be different. His mouth turns up slightly then, and we both know this will happen again. It's almost a ritual now, something flying out of our control, no matter how I try to change it, no matter how much I want to change it. I watch numbly as he turns from me and heads down the hall to his room, and I collapse onto the couch once I hear the soft click of his door shutting. My energy is spent, wasted with endless anxiety.

I love him so much. I really do. I love all of my brothers, no matter what, with all of my heart. So why do I insist on continuing this horrible, destructive pattern? Why can't the fighting stop? He drives me crazy. He pushes me to my limits. He challenges everything I do. He wants to fight, and I guess, deep down, sometimes so do I. But even so, out of all of my brothers, he gets me the most. He understands me. And as much as he challenges me, he stands by me as well. And so we fight and clash, but always knowing deep down that it is out of love. But I can't help but wonder when the next fight will be. When will he leave again? When will I be left to worry for his safety and hope once again that he will come home? When will the situation once again fly out of my control? I don't know. But as long as this ritual stands, I will always worry.

So forever I will stand. Forever pacing, forever passing the time, and forever wondering if everything will be alright.