how my incompetence and skittishness made her days nightmares, her real task began.
My brother stepped off the platform as if he had just insured a world war. He was battered and red, his eyes puffy and saturated and his cheeks dried with tears. He had been helped out of his harness after his energy had been sucked out by the traumatizing ride he had been sent on against his will. He limped off to the car without saying a single world, his silence voicing his displeasure for my mother. For the remainder of the day, my mother diligently worked him down, offering him several treats he could just not resist. As El Yunque shrunk in the rear view mirror, I gave my mother a quick, solemn nod of approval. If someone had to control me like a puppet, I guess I was kind of glad it was her.
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