I couldn’t coax myself out of bed the next morning. My mind fought every attempt to forget about what happened. It was my fault Brooke was gone. I pulled my pink and blue polka dotted comforter over my head and hid from the stream of light coming from my window. I wanted to hide away from it all and morph into my sheets. It was far better than walking through the halls of school with everyone feeling sorry for me when, in fact, they should be looking at me with their noses wrinkled and eyes narrowed. I didn’t deserve their sympathy.
The corner of my journal poked my shoulder from beneath my pillow. Brooke gave it to me as a peace offering four years ago. She told me it would help me deal with the past once I wrote it down. I didn’t believe her, but I used the book anyway. Sighing, I threw back the covers and pulled the journal out from under my pillow and turned it to the first page.
December 3, 2011
I just met my sister for the first time in 10 years. She tried to march right back into my life like nothing was different. She even gave me this stupid journal to make up for all of the birthdays and Christmas’s she missed. It’s her bribe to get me to forgive and forget. Well, tough luck sis, I can’t do that. It’s been 10 years and not once did I get a phone call or a letter. I was five when you left; five years old when you and dad left me behind. Mom might have cheated on him, but at least she didn’t tear my family apart. She didn’t chose a favorite daughter and run off with her, never to be heard from again. Sure, I had to grow up fast living with mom, but she never betrayed me. Mom would never pack everything and take off like you and Dad did.
I wish I could go back to that day Brooke first came home. I’d treat her so much differently now than how I did. I loved her, but I was still mad at her for not finding me sooner. She seemed like a dream from years gone by, and seeing her brought back all of that pain I had hidden away for 10 years. I finally had someone I could be mad at, and I blamed her for everything.
I remember sulking behind mom through the airport. She forced me into a hideous pink floral blouse with a giant fringe around my neck. “You got to be presentable for your sister,” she said between gulps of alcohol. I roamed around the airport looking like a clown while she galloped around in a band tee and sweats. I didn’t even want to be there. I disliked Brooke before she even stepped off of that plane. Mom’s first stop was the closest bar to Brooke’s terminal. She couldn’t go anywhere without getting intoxicated and flirting with guys half her age. While she was at the bar I stood waiting for the girl who ran out on me. I hadn’t seen her in 10 years so how would I recognize her anyway?
To my relief, mom came out of the bar a few minutes before Brooke’s plane landed. She wasn’t fall on your face drunk like usual, but she was swaying side to side. I hung back against the wall impatient to get back home. I didn’t really care who my sister turned out to be. The terminal filled up with people and from my spot I could just barely see mom. A tall dirty blond sashayed up to mom in 3 inch stilettos. She wore designer clothes and her carry-on looked like it had diamonds embedded in it. It sparkled in the lights as they walked towards me. There was no hello or how have you been. She just shoved that journal into my hands like it was a chore to speak to me. I muttered a quick thanks before grabbing the keys from mom and racing out to the parking garage.