It was going on three-thirty, an hour after he'd started, when an older gentleman walked through the door holding a large box. Gene smiled; he loved when people made donations. It gave him the opportunity to snoop into other people’s lives and wonder why they’d owned the books they had.

The man was in his early fifties, dressed in black slacks and a worn yellow short-sleeved shirt, with a sour expression on his face. He dropped the box on the counter. Gene gave him a big smile, which the man did not return.

“Are you making a donation today?”

“Yes,” the man replied.

Gene opened the box and spied university textbooks.

“You don’t have a need for these?” Gene asked.

“My son graduated five years ago. He doesn’t have a need for these anymore.”

“They might be worth something to you if they are still in circulation. Did you want me to check for you?”

“No. I don’t need money for them. You can do what you want with them.”

The manner in which the gentleman responded told Gene he had some ill feelings towards the owner of the books.

“Great, thank you.”

The man nodded, took one last look at the box, and left.

Gene found the exchange odd. He looked inside the box as he moved it behind the counter. It contained a mixture of books—university textbooks, mostly, as well as several paperbacks and, at the very bottom, a small comic book. The sight of this book made Gene’s day. The comic had been a favourite of his father’s. Seeing the little comic book with its blue cover and familiar characters on the front delighted Gene. Calvin and Hobbes, Book 3: In the Shadow of the Night brought back fond memories. Gene picked it up and, ignoring the other books, settled down at the front counter and read. He snickered at every comic and thought his dark hair mimicked the main character’s, who had permanent bedhead. When a customer came up to the counter for service, Gene placed the book next to the register, out of sight. He intended to read it again later that day.

By five that afternoon, the steady stream of customers vanished and Gene took the opportunity to clean up. In the beginning, Gene had not done the cleaning until after the shop closed, until Mary realised he was not leaving until an hour after locking up. Mary had immediately given him permission to start cleaning early, Gene thought it kind of Mary. Ted didn’t like it so much, but he didn’t grumble about it out loud.

Gene pulled out the old vacuum from the back of the shop and got to cleaning the floor. He shook the mat outside the front door clean and brought in as he flipped the sign on the door from “OPEN” to “CLOSED.” With the cash register emptied and the takings for the day locked away in the safe, Gene dusted the counter before taking the comic book he knew wouldn’t be missed. By the time five thirty arrived, Gene was exhausted.

With the shop locked, Gene pulled down the security screen over the door and pocketed the keys. A small coffee shop on the corner remained open a little after most businesses closed to service those finishing work and looking for something warm to drink on the journey home. Gene always made it a point to purchase a coffee before heading home, and as he waited, he retrieved the comic and began reading. As his name was called, Gene spied a handwritten note at the end of the book. Given no time to read it, Gene tucked the book into his backpack and, with coffee in hand, began the slow walk home.

Gene never rushed to return home. He hated that he couldn’t feel comfortable there, but there was nothing he could do about it. Frustrated at his slow recovery, his doctor had warned Gene to take it easy until his health improved, but months later, Gene was still struggling. The knowledge that he had burned himself out at a young age only fuelled his anxiety. The feeling of being useless, coupled with isolation and his ongoing mental health, left him frustrated. Gene often feared what might have happened to him if not for Ted and Mary.

A little after eight, Gene let himself in through the back door. He could hear the television and his younger brothers and sisters from the front of the house. He noticed the dinner his mother had left out for him on the counter, as usual. It was never much and often only leftovers, but there was always something there for Gene. Unable to feel grateful for the effort, he assumed it was his mother’s way of knowing when he was home. Gene made every attempt to avoid Sally, often coming and going without a sound for fear of being noticed. He sat himself at the kitchen table and ate in silence. When he was done, he cleaned his dishes and quietly moved through the house towards the lounge room.

A quick glance through the doorway showed Gene that only his siblings were there. Confident his mother wouldn’t disturb them, Gene entered the lounge room. There was a great amount of noise when the younger children realised Gene was home. Their enthusiasm always pleased him. There was a large age gap between Gene and his younger siblings. This had placed an increased amount of pressure on Gene to ensure their proper upbringing. Paul, now thirteen and full of angst, gave Gene much grief. Never one to confront anyone, Gene struggled with Paul’s growing growing sense of self and ability to take on any issue head-on. Gene and Paul were on different wavelengths and Paul often argued with Gene, who he perceived as weak. Gene refused to be drawn into any argument with Paul. Gene took what Paul dished out, convinced Paul would grow out of his rebellious phase soon enough.

Frehley was eleven and full of energy, always talking and dancing at every opportunity. Theyer was ten and, unlike her sister, shared Gene’s love for reading and quiet moments. The baby of the family was Eric. At eight, Eric was spoilt, selfish and adorable—everything a baby brother was expected to be.

“Where’s Ma?” Gene asked.

“Where do you think?” Paul replied with a hint of attitude in his voice.

There was only one place his mother would be.

“In her room?” Gene answered.

“Yep.”

Sally could be found on her computer in her bedroom almost every night after dinner. When she was there, no one disturbed her—not that she would acknowledge anyone if they spoke with her. Her addiction to the internet had been her way of refusing to deal with her issues. It pained Gene to watch Sally continue to disconnect from life. At no time had Sally ever realised there were five other people who needed her.

As it neared nine o’clock, Gene began the bedtime routine.

“Okay, everyone, time for bed.”

A chorus of moans followed, which Gene ignored. “Why must every night be the same response? You all know you have to get to school early in the mornings.” Gene began ushering the younger two out of the lounge room and towards the bathroom as the older two took their time.

“He’s not the boss,” Gene heard Paul mumble to Freyley, who replied, “Shut up, Paul.”

Gene ignored the comment as Paul and Freyley joined them in the bathroom.

“Make sure you brush those teeth properly,” Gene reminded them.

Paul kept his distance. “Did you get your homework finished?” Gene asked.

“Of course I did,” Paul snapped back.

Freyley went to kick Paul in the shins, but he preempted her and dodged the attack, but not before lashing out and thumping her in the arm.

“Ow, why’d you do that?” Freyley cried out in pain.

“Please stop. Brush your teeth and get ready for bed,” Gene ordered, but Paul wouldn’t listen and stormed off.

Gene stepped out the bathroom and watched Paul enter his bedroom. His gaze drifted to firmly closed door of his mother’s bedroom. The disturbance might bring her out, and Gene held his breath as he listened for signs she was coming out. When her door remained closed, Gene let out the breath he was holding.

“Paul’s an idiot,” Freyley mumbled with a mouth full of toothpaste.

“Leave your brother alone. You shouldn’t provoke him all the time.”

“I don’t,” Freyley pleaded.

Gene gave her a look of disbelief.

“I’m done,” Eric said as he rinsed his toothbrush.

“Then come a get a hug before you go to bed.”

Eric took one step towards Gene before launching at him. Gene caught Eric mid-flight and gave him a bear hug. Eric, in return, attempted to squeeze Gene just as tight.

“You’re getting stronger,” Gene told him as he placed him down.

“Me next,” Theyer said before she jumped at Gene as he caught her.

“That was close. I almost wasn’t ready.”

Theyer laughed, squeezing Gene tight.

“Am I stronger?” she asked.

“A lot stronger.”

When he placed Theyer down, Gene turned to Freyley and said, “Your turn.”

Freyley frowned. “I’m too old for that now, Gene.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” Gene stalked Freyley out of the bathroom. She squealed and ran towards her bedroom. Gene froze in the corridor as a bang echoed from their mother’s bedroom.

Gene turned back towards the bathroom and said the younger two, “Off to bed now. Ma will come say good night soon.”

As his mother’s door opened, the younger two saved Gene from any confrontation they might have.

“Ma, are you coming to say goodnight?” Eric asked, talking their mother, Sally’s, hand.

Sally glanced towards Gen. A look of anger flickered in her eyes before Eric distracted her again. “Come tuck me in, Ma,” Eric pleaded.

Gene stepped back towards his bedroom, anxiety making his skin crawl with fear.

“Okay, Eric. I’m coming,” Sally replied, allowing Eric to lead her towards the bedroom he shared with Paul.

As soon as he was back in his room, Gene locked his bedroom door behind him. He didn’t like the idea of avoiding his mother, but it was best they didn’t interact with each other. Their relationship was too strained. The sooner he could get his own place, the better it would be for all of them.