Gabe's Babysitter

By Avery Jaro

I was afraid to breathe. Mom and dad were pressed against me on either side 

on the hardwood of the pew. I could feel mom trembling, and she kept pressing 

tissues to her nose. There were trails of tears running down her face. Everyone 

around us was crying. Dad didn’t say a thing. He smelled like Brute and cigarettes, 

and I could tell he didn’t want to be here. I didn’t either, but mom said I had to come.

She and dad had fought about it. He said I was too little, and hadn’t I seen 

enough death already. Mom looked horrified when he said it. I didn’t know what 

he was talking about unless he meant the mouse I found under the refrigerator a few 

weeks ago. I thought it was a dust bunny, when I found its dried up furry little body.

 I hadn’t been scared until mom had started shrieking about the filth and germs. That’s 

when I started crying which was of course when dad came home. 

Dad always came home when something made me cry. He thinks I’m broken. I 

heard him tell the neighbors that he thinks I’m fucked in the head. I asked mom what 

that meant, and she slapped me for using the f-word. She wouldn’t explain what fucked 

in the head means. She never explains anything. She says god will show me the way. 

I sucked my lower lip between my teeth and worried at it. I wanted to bite my nails,

but dad would jab me with his elbow if he saw me bring my fingers near my mouth. 

No son of his was going to suck his thumb or bite his nails. I bet it'd be OK if I started to 

smoke though. He does enough of it. 

I didn’t want to be at a funeral. I didn’t want to remember Carrie Ann in a box. We 

played hide and seek. We played Candy Land, and she showed me how to play doctor. 

That made me press my chin against my chest. If mom knew about that, she wouldn’t 

think that Carrie Ann was an angel anymore. Good girls don’t show boys their bodies, and 

good boys don’t touch either. There were so many rules to get into heaven. I don’t think 

I’ll be able to remember all of them, and I try so hard. 

Father John went on and on about the spirit and Jesus, and how the angels would 

look after my cousin when she got to heaven. I wanted to know why God didn’t look 

out for Carrie Ann when she fell down the steps and broke her neck. I didn’t 

understand why he’d take my friend. She wasn’t bad not like the bogyman, not like 

Satan. Mom mumbled something about Carrie Ann’s mother being tarnished, but she 

wouldn’t explain that to me either. 

“Gabriel.” I looked up as mom yanked on my arm. I was thinking so hard that I 

hadn’t noticed her getting up at all. “We have to say ‘good bye’ to your cousin now.” 

I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to look at her. I was afraid of what I’d see in the box. 

I turned to my father, but he pushed me towards mom. She wrapped her fingers around 

mine like a vice and took me down the center aisle toward the coffin. Dad flanked my 

other side like they were trying to make sure that I didn’t run away. I was so afraid that I 

had to pee. 

There were so many flowers, and so much incense that it was making me dizzy. The 

smell was so strong and sweet that my stomach turned sour. I wasn’t big enough to 

see into the coffin, and I breathed a sigh of relief when all I could see was the edge 

and the pink satin padding. 

Then my father scooped me up, one hand under each armpit to lift me off my feet, 

holding me so I had to look down at Carrie Ann's face. I let out a squeak when I 

wanted to scream. My eyes were clamped shut, but behind them I saw Carrie lying on

 the pink satin with a big gash in her forehead. There was blood soaking into her dark 

hair, and her eyes were staring at me as the light went out of them. 

“Mommy,” I whispered. 

“Gabriel.” She squeezed my hand one more time, and then patted me on the cheek. 

“You have to open your eyes to say ‘good bye’.”

I bit down on my scream and forced my eyes open. Carrie looked like she was asleep. 

Her bright read hair was in curls over the pillow, and she was dressed up like Alice

 in Wonderland in a blue dress with lots of white lace. There wasn’t any blood on her 

forehead, and she didn’t look anything like the face in my dreams. 

“Good bye, Carrie Ann.” My voice cracked when I said the words, and the second my 

father put me down, I raced for the bathroom where I locked myself into the stall to cry.

 I was there for a long time, and my dad was waiting for me when I was done. He didn’t 

say anything. He just took my hand, so we could walk home. 

They spoke in whispers for the rest of the day and night. Mom kept watching me and 

thanking god that nothing so horrible had happened to her angel. Dad kept trying to 

work on a clock at the kitchen table, while I pretended to watch TV.

“Gabe,” he said, looking over at me when the cuckoo clock counted down to 9:00. 

“It’s time for you to go to bed.” 

“I know.” I didn’t want to go to bed. I was afraid of having more bad dreams. “Dad, can 

you come with me, please?” I didn’t want to ask mom. She’d make me more afraid 

than I already was. She always did. 

“You’re a big boy, Dex. You’re not afraid of the dark, right?” He gave me the mean 

look, the one where he glared at me from under his big eyebrows. “You outgrew 

that a long time ago.” 

“Don’t forget to say your prayers, Gabe,” Mom reminded me. “I’ll come give you a kiss goodnight later.”

“No, sir, never mind.” I gave mom a quick hug and nodded at my father on my way to 

my bedroom. “I’m not afraid of the dark anymore.” I’m terrified of ghosts with red hair and 

bleeding foreheads. I’m not afraid of the dark at all. 

Thank you for reading. Comments are always appreciated.