Belle 5: Home-Wreckers

I sat in my room waiting for my sisters to come home like they claimed they would. On average they only came home once out of every five times they said they would. This was the fifth time, so I would expect that they would be here.

I wrote in my notebook in the little bay window watching outside for them to come. I glance over to Brody’s house to the left; a black convertible pulling up a harsh halt in the dust. I didn’t want to see what happened after that, but it made me lose my train of thought. Brody was literally the only person who can make me lose my thought completely.

Thankfully a taxi pulled onto the long dirt driveway. Things 1 and 2 are here. I aimlessly got up and went downstairs.

“Kitty and Goldie are here,” I stated coming down the stairs. My mama being the overly peppy woman she was started up on her voice. She should’ve been a cheerleader in high school. Her bobbed gray blonde hair bounced as she came in. Her smile made her cheek bones appear bigger and her eyes squint into a sunshine form. She wore my dad’s flannel shirt and jeans.

My papa was sitting in his chair in the front room in the corner by the window. He was your typical old used-to-be-muscular farmer with a scruffy beard, his withered face that still had so much life to share, and his relaxation-day baseball cap.

My sisters came in with their bags in hand. Great. They’d be here for a few days. It’s not like I hate them, it’s just they were so selfish knowing I was the baby who lived here still. They’d ask for separate rooms as part of being a guest in our house which meant I was shoved out of my room, I became their personal servant, and they could do their we’re older and they said so act. Sisters are irritating!

Goldie (Gretchen) was the oldest. She had bleach blonde hair, my nose, a round face, my mama’s eyes, and was a prissy version of a Southern Belle exactly like the middle sister Kitty (Katherine). She had curly blonde hair, my eyes (neither one of our parents had them), a round face, and a tall, lanky/awkward body she got from my mama.

They grew up like best friends being just a year apart and I was three years younger than Kitty. I was the singled out girl of the family. The baby and the only one with red hair. I was just thankful my parents didn’t believe in favoritism . . . well my dad didn’t.

Mama hugged both of them before they even got in the door. I just sat on the old floral couch in the other back corner.

I watched the NASCAR race on the TV aside from the door.

“Belle, aren’t you gonna say hi?”

“Uh, hi?” they’re my sisters. I’ve lived with them. Why do I need to greet them like guests?

“Awe, our baby sister’s probably just too happy to talk,” Goldie hugged me. I rolled my eyes.

“As long you don’t take over my room, again,” I negotiated.

“You’re so funny,” she messed up my hair. I tried to fix it.

 “Belle,” Mama hushed me, “They’re our guests,” she hugged Kitty. Goldie and Kitty knew how to work Mama.

“But-”

“Belle will take the couch for a week,” Mama decided for me.

“I call my old room!” Goldie claimed the guest bedroom.

Needless to say, Mama and I were the biggest push-overs in our family, besides my dad who knew it was better not to say anything in a house of women. But it got really old with my needy sisters. I just wish I could grow a back bone and stand up for myself . . . which probably won’t happen anytime soon with them actually in the house.

And thus for the next week I had to get up extremely early just to get in the bathroom before Kitty and Goldie got their turns (that took forever) and had to listen to them brag about their amazing lives in the city.

Apparently, Kitty was now performing at bars and cafes around the city hoping to catch a producer’s eye and Goldie now employed at Aeropostale as manager and is currently with a guy from Nashville University.

At this point I’m getting really tired of them coming home. It’s almost like they need that time to talk all about themselves. They didn’t even know Mama got hurt a month ago when her horse bucked her off its back, or that Papa needs knee surgery, again. This is just another reason why I hate the city. It destroyed two country girls the second they saw the big lights and people.