On Failing to Reconcile

true story

I stared blankly at the TV, waiting for it to start making the time pass faster. Two brightly dressed women were strolling through a serene stretch of suburbia, and I was glued to a leather couch by a thick layer of sweat on my back. It was the end of summer, which meant that it was still going to be hot for another month or four. I didn't mind it much anymore, I had plenty of black shirts and there was a pool in the backyard. Then again, it wasn't my house, so I could only rely on these solutions until I left. I was pretty sure we were leaving the next day, but I could've been wrong.

My sister walked into the room. She looked different with black hair. She said 'hey' and awkwardly asked if I would follow her out back. I rose from the couch without a sound and began trying to predict what she wanted to say to me. Everyone else was in the kitchen, which meant it was private, which meant it probably had to do with the night she left. I hated thinking about the night she left.

The back patio of the house was paradise. Hibiscus flowers and African tulips drenched the whole area in deep shades of red and rich tones of pink. Bluebells hung solemnly around the walkway to the crystal clear pool, and daisies smiled happily in their windowsill flowerbeds. The two windchimes that hung on the corners of the patio cover filled my ears with soothing atmospheric notes. All I could think about was leaving.

She sat while I continued to stare at the water, hoping that it would somehow keep me from having to continue with this awful interaction. "Do you wanna sit?" she asked. Sitting across from her, I couldn't help but feel like I was dipping an open wound into hydrochloric acid. She lit a cigarette and began, "so I know that..." I don't remember the rest of the conversation. All I could do was look at her and cry inside. 

She was beautiful, she always had been. Even without makeup her face was enough to evoke an image of a Hollywood starlet in the early 20th century. Smooth skin, dark eyes, dark hair, perfect nose, lips, and eyebrows. Her voice sounded the same, but she looked a little older than the last time I had seen her, and her hands were shaking. I had never seen her unsure of herself. She said something along the lines of not regretting anything she'd done. I wanted to yell and slap her, but I knew that wouldn't help anything. All I could say was that she was an adult and that that was her prerogative and that I couldn't keep her from doing what she wanted.

About a year ago, she left home with her newborn baby after our mother had decided that she no longer wanted my sister's boyfriend living in the house. Mom had been supporting the two of them out of her own pocket for upwards of six months, and had received nothing but disrespect in return. Not wanting the baby to grow up without a father, my sister ran off with him. Mom had made it clear that he was welcome to see the baby, he simply couldn't live with us anymore. I still don't know why she left, and it still hurts to think about it.

She lit another cigarette. "How's mom?" she asked. Do you really care? I thought. "She's fine," I said, then went back to staring at a dusty brown hummingbird that was hovering a few inches away from a hibiscus. He moved a little closer, then dipped his head and inserted his long beak into the radiant bloom. I wondered how big a hummingbird's stomach was. "So, you got a girlfriend?" she asked. "Nope," I responded dully. I looked up at her. Smoke was leaking out of her nostrils. I wanted to slap the cigarette out of her hand, but that wouldn't teach her anything. Would lung cancer? I asked myself.

She tossed a few more conversation-starting questions at me, and I let them all fall to the ground. The bayou behind the yard was three feet lower than it should have been, and I could see the dry, cracked dirt that comprised the lakebed. I could relate.

"Welp, I'm gonna go see what's for lunch," I announced as I stood and went for the door. "Okay," she replied meekly. I shut the door behind me and went to my room.

I missed my sister. I missed her so badly. And none of the tears made me feel any better.