Falling Out of Time

Mark | The Morning Routine

The Morning Routine

The slightest touch was all it took for Mark to wake up. He had become a light sleeper over the years.

His eyes shot open, instantly alert. Once they adjusted, he distinguished his brother's face through the darkness. Ronnie stood over him, his faded blue pajamas three sizes too small. Mark was going to have to find him some new ones soon.

"It's seven," Ronnie said quietly.

There was no need for an alarm clock in the small bedroom they shared. Ronnie was naturally up at the crack of dawn, and from the tossing and turning Mark heard every night, he doubted his brother slept at all.

Mark swung his legs over the side of his bed, then took his time stretching. He knew once he left their room, he wouldn't find a semblance of peace for the rest of the morning.

"You can go shower," Mark informed him, gesturing towards the door. "I've got the twins today."

It was subtle, but a look of relief flashed across Ronnie's face. He scuttled off to the bathroom while Mark walked to the end of the hall, gathering all the patience he could muster.

Ten minutes later, he was corraling his sisters down the stairs and into the kitchen. They fought him the whole way, Emma screaming at the top of her lungs and Josie pinching his hand to make him let go. Mark ignored their protests and shoved them into two chairs at the table.

Ronnie stood at the stove, a spatula in one hand and a pan of eggs in the other. Mark knew that his brother was too young to be using the stove; at ten, most kids were just figuring out microwaves. But having Ronnie cook made mornings easier for Mark, and vice versa. The two of them worked together, switching off roles every other day. One morning of peace, another of chaos, a continuous cycle they were trapped in.

Once the girls were seated, Mark moved deftly around the kitchen, grabbing two cups and filling them with orange juice. He tuned out their demands for food as he placed the glasses down, but Emma crossed her arms in protest.

"No juice," she insisted, pushing her cup across the table.

"Yeah, no juice." Josie went a step further and knocked hers to the floor, making Emma giggle.

"Stop it, Josie," Mark scolded. She stuck her tongue out in response.

He grumbled to himself as he knelt down to clean up the mess. Some mornings were easier with them, but Emma always set the tone. However she felt when she woke up, her sister would, too. If Emma wanted to give Mark a hard time, so would Josie.

Mark tried to remind himself that his sisters did love him, even if they had a hard time showing it. Josie was better, especially when she colored by herself at the kitchen table. Emma... was another story. She constantly fought Mark on everything and wasn't afraid to shove, kick, or bite to get what she wanted. But Mark knew he couldn't blame either one of them for the way they behaved. They hadn't grown up with the best role model for how to act.

"I want milk," Emma demanded as Ronnie scooped a helping of eggs onto her plate.

"Me too," Josie piped in, unsurprisingly.

"We don't have any," Mark said, sitting down across from them. He hadn't found enough money that week to add milk to the grocery list. They were between checks their dad still sent, so Mark had to make every dollar count. The ten he discovered in his backpack and a few ones stuffed in his mom's purse barely covered what they had now.

Emma's face turned up in a scowl. "Give it!" she yelled, kicking her feet under the table.

"Yeah, Mark. Give it now."

He could tell they were about to spiral, and Mark looked helplessly to Ronnie. His brother sat silently next to him, his head down as he ate his breakfast. Where their circumstances had forced Mark out of his shell, they'd pushed Ronnie further into his. Most of his responses were one worded answers, and he only initiated conversation when absolutely necessary. Apparently, he didn't see a need to jump in now, leaving Mark on his own.

"You're lying!" Emma screamed, tears springing to her eyes. She crumpled against the table, crying into the crook of her elbow.

"You're mean, Mark," Josie sneered.

"I am not lying," Mark shouted back. "Shut up."

Emma's head snapped up again. "I hate you!"

He opened his mouth, ready to shout it back, when noise from the living room made them all freeze. The twins stared wide-eyed at Mark, their tantrum long forgotten. He glanced over at Ronnie to find his hands shaking, face white as a sheet. Mark's own hands went slick with sweat, while his heart hammered in his chest.

All at once, the four of them realized their mistake. They had messed up the routine.

They had woken up their mother.