I walked down that God-awful hall. I saw my brother wearing two hospital gowns, holding the Bible in one hand and preaching to a guy next to him. I approached Sean. He turned to me and said, "Isn't it fitting they gave me robes?" He had a cross drawn on his forehead.
He had written on the inside covers of his Bible- people's names he met there, significant numbers, 9= man, 11= woman, "eve[ning]" he had written out just like that. He drew in marker a star symbol. He rewrote his name as Sean Michael John Buccos.
While I sat crying in the kitchen room, my mom next to me, my brother asked me, "Have you ever been sexually attracted to me?"
He completed another stay and came home, still preaching. We let him wander. He didn't sleep. He would toss Bible's at us while we sat at the table.
One night I was up in his room and he told me that he was the second coming of Christ and that he felt like people were worshiping him.
"Where are they?" I asked.
"Where are they?" I asked.
"I dunno. I just want them to worship God not me... "
The weather was getting colder and continued to let him wander where ever. It was coming up to the town's Harvest Festival. He never missed a year.
It was early morning, maybe 6.00am. I was sitting with my knees bent up to my chin, staring at the TV, Sean madly flipping through the channels, calling Steven Spielberg a Jew, "Shut up, Jew," he said.
He then angrily said to me, "You know, you don't have to stay a virgin!"
He called our mother a bitch and said he was going out to find some girls. Our mom called dad who came home and said, "Get in the truck."
Sean stood and just before going out the door, he turned to our mother and said, "I'll pray to God to get you for this."
There was now talk of sending him to Ancora. We were terrified of that. A state mental hospital. My brother who was usually soft spoken, easy going, was becoming a belligerent prick thinking he knew God personally and therefore could dictate to us. I came to hate him. I felt relief when he left.
The night before he left for Ancora my youngest cousin, Samuel, and I went to see him.
We sat, the three of us, as we had around our aunt's table, Sam's mom, over tea and Scateragories laughing and quoting movies. Sean got up and got a small red and white carton of milk. he banged it on his palm like it was a pack of cigarettes and said, "These are my Red 20s," meaning Marlboro. He sat with us and we talked. He took us over to a table where a guy showed my cousin and I some magic card tricks. It brought amused smiles to our faces. If Sean weren't being taken to Ancora tonight, this would actually have been a pleasant visit. I sat and talked to a few patients and they all said Sean was a good kid, a smart kid with a good heart. This smart good-hearted kid is on his way to the fucking insane asylum and I don't know if he is insane. But they tell us the doctors there will be better to diagnose and treat him.
Sean, Samuel and I went to his room. Just before we got there, a nurse stood waiting to get in the kitchen-room with 2 pitchers of water on a tray. Sean smiled and pretend he was going to knock it out of her hands.
She said pleasantly, "You better not..."
He smiled and shook his head. In his room, he put his things into clear bags to be taken with him. He was in a good mood, almost happy. He showed me how he liked the lighting of the room, like he had just gotten a new place of his own. He went over to the bathroom, turned on the light, and closed the door a little, so that only a beam of light lit the space between the beds. He said he couldn't keep it on because he roommate didn't like it.
Soon, they came to get him. He said, "Do you guys have straight jackets?"
I couldn't believe him! He was never going to be released at this rate! When he first went in, I wanted him out so bad. I planned how we could break him out if we had to. But now, I didn't know what I wanted.
I hugged him goodbye. He was wearing the coat I had bought him last Christmas. Samuel and I walked out into the cold, dark street and parking lot. I wanted to cry so bad.