My little brother finally admitted he used to sleep outside my bedroom door

Dear Delyara, When we were children, our father became violent when he drank. I was the oldest, so I tried to keep my younger brother away from the arguments. I would shut him in our bedroom, tell him to put headphones on, and go back into the sitting room because I thought somebody needed to stay near Mum. Today, my brother is thirty-six. We were talking about childhood for the first time without jokes, and he told me he never stayed in bed. He used to lie on the floor outside the bedroom door and listen for me. If the shouting stopped suddenly, he would hold his breath until he heard my voice. He said he believed his job was to make sure I was still alive. I had spent all these years thinking I protected him. Apparently, an eight-year-old boy was monitoring the hallway for his sixteen-year-old sister. I apologized. He became angry and said, “Stop apologizing for being a child too.” I have thought of myself as the oldest for so long that I forgot sixteen is also a child. Tonight, I keep imagining his small body on that floor, cheek against the carpet, while I stood in another room trying to be old enough for both of us.