Tommy Innit Craft was born on a Tuesday.

No one could remember the exact time it happened, as right after Tommy was born, Kristen got sick. For the next three years of Tommy’s life, Kristen— “Mommy!”—was in and out of the hospital for her illness. There wasn’t a single doctor who could tell the Craft family what was wrong with her, and the uncertainty of it all, the stress of the medical bills as well as the drain Tommy’s young personality had on everyone made Phil tired all the time.

So whenever Tommy would bounce into his room, his wide, gummy smile lighting up his face as he rambled endlessly about this and that, Phil would just grimace at the toddler and send him off to bother his brothers, giving Phil more time to sleep.

Tommy, who was getting used to being ignored by his father, would just shrug it off and toddle over to wherever Techie (Techno) or Wilby (Wilbur) were, and he’d tell them all the things he wanted to tell Phil.

And when they brushed him off, he would go to you. Wonderful, admirable, you. His older sibling who might as well hold the stars.

Tommy was three and three quarters when Kristen went to the hospital for the last time. Tommy wasn’t there when the heartbeat monitor flatlined, nor was he there when Phil broke down and the twins began to weep.

It wasn’t until, nearly two hours later, when security called over the P.A system, was Tommy found by his family.

As Tommy got older, he would look back on that moment and wish he was never found.

Tommy turned seven today, and he was officially the biggest and coolest man in the universe. Even though he knew his Dad wouldn’t look at him when he came downstairs for breakfast, and even though he knew Techno would avoid him and even though he knew he would avoid Wilbur, Tommy was actually moderately happy for his birthday.

Tommy walked downstairs to the kitchen where everyone else was already eating breakfast. Tommy shuffled awkwardly in the door, unsure if he would get in trouble for grabbing the food again.