Everything Beautiful Began After by Simon van Booy

that simultaneously defined who he was yet denied him life.

Chapter Nine
    “Bye, Henry,” Daddy said.
    “You’re not worried, are you, love?” Mammy said. “Because we’re only next door if you need us.”
    Henry nodded.
    “I know, Mam.”
    “If your brother wakes up, just run over and tell us, now, like a good boy.”
    “I know what to do, I can do it, Mam.”
    “And you’re not afraid?” she said gently.
    “He’s fine, Harriet,” Daddy said. “We’ll be late.”
    The house was very quiet, but sometimes creaking, or a sharp tick from the kitchen, or the cat flap as Duncan came and went to do his business. The television was on. Henry sat down. There was a plate of rock cakes and a large glass of orange squash. It was still light out. Cars swished along in the wake of heavy rain.
    When the cartoon ended, Henry wondered if they would come back. He stood in front of the television to see what would happen next.
    There were pictures of Spider-Man on his underwear. He could see himself in the reflection of the television. The boy in the glass stood very still. They both waited to see what would come on.
    Then Henry decided to check on his brother. It was his main job, after all. He was in charge when they were out.
    Henry was five years older than his brother, but they looked alike. His brother always wanted everything—was always reaching his fingers into things, always touching—his face contorted with the difficulty of retrieval. Hanging saliva. The stench from his diapers—as heavy and hot as parcels of fish and chips. The violence of crying. His hair so wispy it might blow off. Henry remembered little black eyes when he came home from hospital. Mammy let Baby suck Henry’s finger.
    “That’s how I eat gooseberries,” Henry had said. Everyone laughed.
    Baby didn’t have any hair then. Now he was almost one. Henry liked to bounce him on the bed. His clothes were soft and blue. He was entered into them through a zip. There was a fish sewn into the cloth. It was smiling and blinked one eye.
    Henry stood in his brother’s room. The smell of disinfectant and baby powder filled him with despair. The blinds were down. The light was soft but bright enough to see.
    His brother breathed quickly. His hands were very small, but wrinkled in all the correct places.
    And then, outside a dog barked.
    His brother’s eyes opened quickly. He turned his head blinking. When he saw Henry, he smiled, but then began to cry.
    “No use crying for Mam,” Henry said. “She’s next door.”
    Henry put his hand through the bars of his crib, but it didn’t help.
    Then Henry did a little dance and sang a song about bears he had learned at school.
    “I’ll teach it to you when you’re older, like me,” Henry said.
    His brother’s face was red with crying. His eyes bulged.
    If only he would stop screaming. Mam and Dad would be mad that he woke up and blame Henry for going in.
    Henry was about to run next door when he suddenly had the idea to give him a toy.
    On his changing table, next to a pile of diapers, was a mobile that had once hung over Henry’s crib. Henry’s dad had said that maybe his brother might like it and he’d hang it tomorrow.
    Henry grabbed the mobile and dangled it above the crib.
    “This was mine once,” Henry said. “So stop crying.”
    His brother stopped crying and reached up his hands.
    “Would you like to play with it?”
    The baby was laughing. His face returned to normal and the room was suddenly bright with the final moments of day. Henry dropped in the mobile.
    Baby looked satisfied. His short, fat fingers explored little parts. He put one of the plastic animals into his mouth, then took it out and looked at it. He pulled on the strings, and tried to chew the wood.
    “Go to sleep, little brother,” Henry said. “Have nice dreams.”
    When Henry stepped out, he felt very proud. He would boast to Mam how he’d quieted his brother when a dog barked.
    When his parents got home it was