I couldn’t tell you why I was struggling with a tangible nervosity as I prepared our trip. I suppose, after all that time, I was simply jittery about disappointing her – that she’d remember our outing as a mockery of our childhood hangouts with our father, rather than what I’d hoped it’d be, whatever that was. All I knew was that every second on my own was torture – my mind would traverse the great tempus to when I looked into that infected eye and saw my career, my life and the rest of that old woman’s life as a one-eyed flash before me. I desperately sought something to stall the pain and, her being the only target of my distractions, I felt bad as I picked her up and drove her up the winding valleys in silence.
Everything seemed so much smaller at our fishing spot. The rock where we’d sit and watch our bobbers, the stream itself – even the waterfall that had once awed me now seemed so… insignificant. By far, the most beautiful thing in that clearing was now my sister’s long, blonde hair dancing in the breeze from where she sat on the blanket and gobbled down her sandwich with the ferocity of someone starved for days. We hadn’t spoken a word other than the ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions as we unpacked my bag for the sudden lunch-out. “Slow down, champ. It’s been years since I last heimliched.” She stopped her chewing and looked down at her sandwich with a passing shame before returning to chew on the bread, much slower this time around.
After swallowing, she raised a sudden, unexpected question, but did not meet my eyes.: “Josh… is something wrong?” I wanted to say ‘I blinded someone and I’m not sure I can keep working, knowing that.’ but ultimately ended up revealing nothing.
“I.. don’t think so. How come?” I felt nervous just asking. She swallowed and looked around for the bottle of coke I’d sat on the rocks in front of her. With a dry mouth, she cautiously spoke:
“You look rough. And we haven’t done this since-… I just need to know you’re all right. It runs in our family… you’re not gonna do something stupid, are you? This isn’t how you’d say farewell to me?” I was shocked more than anything – astounded. I knew I likely appeared rough and worn, but the thought of blasting my head off in an homage to our father hadn’t even crossed my mind.
“Of course not. I go down in the dumps sometimes, but nothing like he did. I’m just-…” I fell victim to the emotional wall again. I opened my mouth to speak several times, but froze as she looked up to reveal her teary eyes and the streams of mascara running down her cheeks. “If you brought me out here just to stop talking whenever you’re about to tell me what’s wrong, we might as well go back home. I’d rather you go back to ignoring me – this is confusing.” I reared my head with surprise, but found myself disarmed as she looked back at her sandwich and muttered: “I’m not a kid anymore… I can take it. I’ve been looking for a place to live – I just need somewhere cheap enough for my part-time job to pay for it.”
“No!” I blurted out unconsciously, again startling her. I cleared my throat before continuing: “I don’t want you to go.” She shook her head down at her half-eaten sandwich. “I know you’re working your ass off to support us, but that’s all you do. I owe it to you to stay out of your hair and learn to stand on my own two feet… maybe then, you’d go home and do something other than continue to work or study.” I scratched my head. This was unexpected, uncomfortable and, most of all, heart-breaking. How long had this been building?
I scooted slightly closer and bent down to steal her gaze back. “Hey… we’re good on money. I’ve just… kinda picked up some bad habits.”
She squeezed her eyes together and her head began to jerk as she choked back sobs. “S-So… it’s about me, then. Being at work means y-you.” She gathered herself for a few breaths before continuing: “You don’t have to be around me.”
I can’t tell you what happened to me at that moment. Perhaps my cup just overfilled or maybe my heart finally shattered, but as I leapt over to hug her, I exploded in a mess of tears of my own as I pinned her to my chest and blurted out every last thing I’d worked so hard to suppress and conceal from her. From the day our father died – how I hadn’t taken the time to grieve our new life, to hearing her sobbing at night from hunger and melancholy, to my recent professional failure. I spilled it all – every last, gritty, painful detail. And through it all, she’d just sat there in silence – listening as I rambled my insanity into her ear. I’d fought not to cry, but like the battle I’d been waging against life itself, it was useless. I’d wept like a beaten child and squeezed her to my chest hard enough to severely discomfort her, but she hadn’t moved at all throughout it all.
My mind was aflame with questions – did she hate me now for my weakness? Did she judge me for my pathetic life? I felt her rummage through her pocket, while her left hand remained on the ground, supporting her rigid form, but I kept my arms locked around her – if I was losing my sister, I was going to make damn certain I’d remember this day as when it all ended. I needed to remember the moment I finally broke and failed to protect her from the life our father had fled.
Her voice began weakly, but she soon sounded more confident than I’d heard her since she was a snotty brat. “Yeah, Clarissa? I’ve got… I’ve got a family emergency I need to deal with. I’m not coming in tomorrow. In fact, I think you’ll have to cancel my shifts for the foreseeable future.” She paused as the voice spoke back from her phone – a tone of understanding plastered thick on the recipient’s melodious speech. “Yeah… I’m prioritizing my family.” She hung up before the voice could retort and, finally, I felt her arms close around me, awakening the dread in my stomach again as she whispered in my ear: “You can rest now, big bro. Let me be the adult, for once.”
The exhaustion had set in for full once I’d opened up. Evening had fallen on our town and with it, the last of my energy drained away. I couldn’t even muster the strength to drive home, but even after all these years, Sarah could read me like an open book. She drove us back to the house, where I quickly fell atop the couch to look at the neat, tidy and cleaned coffee table, questioning… when had I even seen it last time?
I awoke covered in a woolen blanket, resting atop a sweetly fragranced pillow. It smelled of peaches and oranges – a combination I’d sometimes catch a whiff of on the few occasions I showered at home. More impressively, the smell of pancakes oozed through the atmosphere of our living room and I heard what appeared to be classical music from the kitchen. For a stolen moment, I was back to a time before it all happened – a time where Sarah was still in her crib suckling on her pacifier and our mother cooked for our smiling father. It was the only memory I could conjure, when he actually smiled.
I staggered upright and wiped the drool from my lip. My hair was a mess in the bright sunlight shining in through the tall windows, but I felt oddly… at peace. I savored those few, precious moments before the reality of the world inevitably came crashing down on me. “Thought I heard some rustling.” I heard from the kitchen and turned to freeze as I saw her. Sarah had changed from her uniform to an airy, white shirt and a pair of homely pajama pants, but the brown, floral apron was what got me. With her pony tail slung over her shoulder, I again felt that pang of jealous that she’d stolen away all the beauty our mother had to give and hoarded it for herself. She clapped her flour-covered apron and with a confident grin motioned for the kitchen. “Breakfast is served.”
I sat there, staring at my plate with disbelief. Hospital food was nice, but this was something else – homemade pancakes, fresh from the box, with either a penis or a heart drawn on it in powdered sugar and syrup. “Not hungry?” She asked, cocking her head at me from across the table. She’d hardly touched her own. “Starving. I’m just-…” I began, but I shook my head and began to hungrily devour the delicious food. She huffed her bemusement and grinned at the sounding of my moans and composed herself to casually mention: “Well, as you practice not locking up on me… I took a look at our finances. Wasn’t a problem since you’ve got some kind of OCD when it comes to bookkeeping.” She was referring to the folders – oh God.
She cleared her throat and continued: “I’ve decided it’s time for you to stop doing overtime. I don’t think it’s normal for a twenty-six-year-old man to be completely debt free.” I paused my chewing and looked up at her with confusion. Without overtime we wouldn’t be up shit’s creek financially – we’d still be average for an upper middle class family, but…
I cleared my throat. “Sorry. I’m just a bit overwhelmed at… this. I haven’t eaten anything warm in this house in years. And I… the overtime’s-…” I began, but every fiber of my being had been honed not to burden her with my responsibilities. I sighed: “If this is about my freakout yesterday, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have vented like that out of the blue…” A sharp toe struck my leg and when I looked back over at her, she was glaring down into her cup of freshly brewed coffee. “Stop it. Of course you should have – you should’ve done it years ago… I knew it was bad, but after looking at the books…” She shook her head and raised her glare back up at me, where she continued to scold me, her blue eyes glinting in the bright sunlight: “This stops now. We’ve lost everything and everyone. Yesterday was the first time I’ve heard your voice in two weeks other than grunts and groans… you being away has been the only stable thing in my life since dad died.” She swallowed and wet her dry mouth with a small sip of her coffee, fingering the handle nervously as she brought it to her lips.
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