Heyy!! So I've had this rattling around in my head for a while and I figured I should put it on paper.
"No one ever told me grief felt so much like fear." In the words of C. S. Lewis, that was how I felt for a long time. Fear of what, I suppose, wasn't really clear in my mind. But I know it was there.
It's been nearly three years since my sister died. Well, two years, six months, four weeks, and two days, to be exact. Yes, I've been keeping track. C. S. Lewis's words were the best thing I could find to describe my feelings.
The fear used to be constant. It followed me everywhere, in everything I did. My mom says I was scared of my own shadow for a while.
I can't count how many nights I've spent sleepless because of her death. The first few weeks after she died, I would wake up crying and my older sister, who sleeps next door to me, would run in, and we'd fall back asleep together after an hour or so. That was one of the worst times in my life, but at the same time, one of the best times, because of my sister.
I gazed down at the note in my hand. Eva's cursive, so pretty it could almost pass for calligraphy, was scrawled all over.
Things I Want To Teach Sadie
How to sing like Kristyn Getty, or at least like me, which isn't all that bad
How to love with everything you have, which is the only real way to love
How to be a girl...as soon as I find out myself
With Love, Eva Anne Cleveland
I watched it closely, trying to blink back tears. I hardly ever cry. It doesn't mean I'm not sad, but crying in front of people, to me, seems... I don't know, uncomfortable? Yeah, that's the word. Uncomfortable.
Eva died from osteosarcoma. It runs in our family. Well, the genetic disorder that produces the genes for the type of cancer does.
She'd been fighting for a while, I admit. It wasn't like her death was sudden. She'd gotten really bad around two and a half years ago. My parents talked with my sisters and me. It wasn't like we didn't see it coming. Not that the fact makes it any easier to get through.
It's scary, isn't it? When the person who gave you the most memories, suddenly becomes a memory. Maybe that's where the fear comes from. I'm not sure.
But enough of those morbid details.
It was around January, I think. I was sitting on my bed, staring at the wall, for some unknown reason. Sometimes, one just has to stare at a wall. I'm not sure why. Sometimes I do strange things.
"Hey, Sadie?"
My head darted toward the noise, banging the back of my head against my wooden headboard.
"Ow!" I howled, rubbing the bump, already raised, where contact had been made. I cringed but watched my intruder intently. "Were you going to say something?"
"What- before you hit yourself?" My ten-year-old, younger sister Gabby asked, raising an eyebrow. Gabby thinks she's so funny. She's in that phase where she wants to be as snarky as Richelle, our fourteen-year-old sister, but doesn't have that much talent yet. She's also not in middle school yet. It's mostly just annoying.
I sighed. "Did you have something useful to say, or did you just come back here to make fun of me?"
Gabby blinked once. "What? Oh yeah. Dad wants you."
"Finally," I muttered, untangling myself, careful not to hit my head again. I gave Gabby a hard noogie and then dragged her into the living room with me.
"Do you know what's going on?" I asked. "Why does he want us?"
"Something about a business trip," Gabby said.
I sigh dejectedly. Mom had business trips about every three months. She had limited them significantly after Eva got sick, but her work demands them of her. Because Mom has an insufferable sister, who thinks our father is incapable of managing three girls by himself, she always has to come down and help him.
And if Mom doesn't let her know... well, Aunt Stephanie would let Mom know of her thoughts on the matter. And they're never good.
Problem is, when Aunt Stephanie comes over, her daughter, Mallory comes over too. She's even more insufferable. I would say I hated her, but I can't say I hate anyone.
Mom says it's a 'thing' adjective and not a 'people' adjective. Like, you can hate rock music that sounds like rocks and aluminum cans thrown in a washing machine, or you could hate green eggs and ham, but you couldn't hate people. Not even Vladamir Putin. I think it's a stupid rule, but my parents have enforced it since we were little. Whatever.
Mallory is gross. She's girly and thinks she's superior in all ways. Not to mention she's always getting us in trouble for no apparent reason.
Aunt Stephanie believes every little lie that comes out of Mallory's mouth because she's her little darling. In addition, she's always telling us that we're not girly enough. Whatever that's supposed to mean.
Gabby follows me into the living room.
Richelle, who just so happens to be Eva's twin, leans against the wall, her face placid, excluding her mouth, which twitches at the corner. She rarely ever full-on smiles, but that twitch is usually evidence that she finds something, or someone amusing.
"I suppose Gabby told you?" Mom asked.
"How did you know?" I asked sarcastically.
"Sadie," Mom said firmly. "Lose the attitude. Now. And wipe the scowl off your face, Richelle."
I glanced at my sister. Her mouth had indeed changed into a somewhat impertinent scowl.
"You know your aunt is coming?" Dad asked. "Correct?"
"Who?" I cup a hand to my ear.
"Sadie Grace, you have ten seconds to lose the attitude before you start losing privileges," Mom snapped. "Get your attitude straight. Richelle, I'm looking at you too. Answer the question."
"Yes," I said. "Yes, I knew she was coming. Yes, Gabby told me." My tone was flat, hoping she couldn't detect 'attitude' in a tone that had no feeling.
"Watch your attitudes while she's here, girls," Mom said. "You don't have to kiss up to Aunt Stephanie, or be best friends with Mallory, but I expect you to be kind. Is that clear?"
"Why?" Richelle snarled, ignoring Mom's attitude warning. "It's not like that's her number one priority with us.
"If Eva was here," Mom said. "What would she want you to do?"
Richelle's eyes glazed over, and she leaned back into the wall again, blinking rapidly. "She'd..." Richelle sucked in a huge breath.
A dirty trick, using Eva as a weapon against Richelle. She only used it when Richelle's attitude was really bad. Still, the look it put on Richelle's face, and the catch in her voice made me sure I would never use that kind of trick on my children.
"You know how to act," Dad said.
My sisters and I knew we weren't always right, but we hated being wrong. Kind of like this instance. With the lecture we were getting from our parents, I was almost grateful when the doorbell rang. Notice I said almost.
Mom shuffled to the door to let Aunt Stephanie and Mallory in as the doorbell rang. She smiled at her sister. "Thank you so much, Stephanie. I appreciate this a lot."
"It's no problem, really," Aunt Stephanie assured her. "I love the girls." She then smiled at us so sweet and honey-like it made me want to hurl.
But I pursed my lips and held my tongue, knowing that snapping would only get me grounded. It took chomping down on my tongue to make it happen, but I managed. I knew I would pay for the tongue biting later.
Aunt Stephanie set down her numerous bags and hugged each of us. I held my breath as she hugged me, on account of her strong lavender perfume. I was very proud of myself for not gagging.
"Bye girls," Mom said as she kissed us on the forehead. "I love you!" We waved at her and called "I love you" after her as she left.
"Hm," Aunt Stephanie placed a hand on her hip and surveyed each of us. "You know, I think I should take you shopping sometime." She smiled at us hopefully. "We could go tomorrow!"
"Didn't you just get us a bunch of outfits for Christmas?" Gabby asked.
Aunt Stephanie laughed like Gabby didn't know anything. I hated when she acted like that. As annoying as she can be, Gabby's no idiot. I resisted the urge to punch her. "Oh honey, that was just one outfit," she said condescendingly.
"I hate shopping," I said, earning myself a sharp look from Dad.
"How would you know?" Aunt Stephanie asked. "You've never really done it. It would be fun!"
"Define 'fun'," Richelle muttered under her breath.
Aunt Stephanie frowned. "Richelle, don't be like that. We can get our nails done, get your hair all fixed up, and get you a nice new wardrobe at the mall. Heaven knows you need one. All three of you." She sighed. "Richelle, you've got to wear something other than sweatshirts." She points a long nail at Richelle's dark blue sweatshirt that read WMS the initials of Watonga Middle School. "How long have you had that, even? What- since you were eleven?" It didn't seem to matter at all that it was Eva's old one.
"Oh my gosh," Aunt Stephanie's eyes went wide. She nudges Mallory and points to me. "Is she getting a unibrow?"
Mallory looked at me, then at her mother. "She is!"
I blink obliviously. "A what now?"
"A unibrow," Aunt Stephanie said. "Where your eyebrows meet in the middle."
"So?" I raise an eyebrow.
"So, we should pluck your eyebrows sometime soon," Aunt Stephanie said. "It looks bad. You could come to my house and I could pluck them for you."
"No," I said. She did not just say that. She did not. I was not going to her house. I wasn't. I just wasn't.
Aunt Stephanie held up a hand. "Now hold on. We could get your hair all fixed, we could go shopping at the malls in Tulsa, we could-"
"No, I don't want to," I said sharply. I didn't care about my attitude anymore. I wasn't doing this.
"Now hear me out," Aunt Stephanie said, taking a step toward me. "Your mother and I talked over the phone a couple of days ago and we think-"
"I don't care what you think!" I snarled. "It's not happening!" My voice rose in frustration.
"Tulsa would be good for you-"
"I like Watonga," I said.
"It would only be for a week or two," Aunt Stephanie insists. "I could teach you-"
"I don't care!"
"Now Sadie-"
I cut Dad off. "I don't want you to teach me anything!"
"Sadie, wait-" Richelle called. Her face was concerned as she reached out to me.
I whirled around and shot in the other direction, toward my bedroom.
I didn't look back.