“Me too.” Our grandparents’ home was our sanctuary until they passed away, and the only memory of love I had as a child. Maybe my mother’s parents did the same thing to her when they found out she was pregnant. My very existence was a large thorn in my mother’s side, and I was beginning to understand why.
“But again, who really knows? It’s not like they were ever straight with us. I guess I was a big oops after the fact.”
“Stop,” I scolded as I nudged her with my elbow. The bed was big enough for both of us but didn’t have a whole lot of extra room. “And whatever you were to them, you weremygift.” Her head fell on my shoulder.
When they brought her home from the hospital, swaddled in pink and already with a tuft of black hair piled on her head, she brought joy to an otherwise sullen house. Mom didn’t smother either of us with love, but she spared Denise of the malice she always directed toward me. I guessed my sister wasn’t a breathing reminder of the detour her life had to take. I had the same reminder, but she was my blessing—not my downfall. I pitied my mother in that moment for never enjoying her daughters like I enjoyed mine.
“Tell me more about school.” Denise yawned as she cuddled closer to my side, assuming the same position she always had during a thunderstorm. “Any boyfriends?”
“Nope. Not anymore. It’s . . . all still new. I don’t want to talk about it right now, DeDe. Let’s focus on one tragedy at a time.” I patted her arm.
“Me neither. My friends think I should go into therapy. I always pick the assholes I know will break my heart. It’s like my own insurance from getting too invested.”
“You’re twenty. Dating assholes is a rite of passage. I dated my fair share.”
“Like Victoria’s dad?” She turned on her side and propped her elbow on the pillow.
“No, he actually turned out to be a nice guy. I didn’t know him long enough the first time we met for him to be an asshole.”
We shared a laugh. “Toniann even made an appointment with her therapist for me next week.”
“Toniann is still around?” She was always a cute kid, even if she was Queens’ answer toFull House’sKimmie Gibbler.
“Yeah, she’s still herself,” she snickered. “But she was always someone I could talk to. When you left . . .” She trailed off. “I was pretty lonely. I think I’m going to go. Just the once, at least.”
“Good. Now go to sleep, sis. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”
She fell back on the pillow and nodded. “Okay. Goodnight, Sara.”
“Goodnight, kiddo.”
“I love you,” she breathed. My eyes drifted to my sister, out cold already.
I smiled into the glowing stars on the ceiling, an odd peace drifting in with my turbulent thoughts for tomorrow.
“I love you, too, baby sister.”
Sara
“AT LEAST THEfuneral home is in walking distance, right?” Denise offered a nervous laugh as we turned the corner.
The funeral plans were clear for every step, odd for a couple in their fifties. In her search for some sort of insurance policy, Denise stumbled upon a large envelope with all the paperwork we’d need for the funeral and reading of assets afterward, complete with all necessary contact information. Everything was paid for and planned; she only needed to call the numbers listed. By the time I arrived, everything was already set.
The painstaking detail in their final wishes brought a whole new level of sadness to the day. They must’ve known their daughters—or anyone for that matter—wouldn’t know them well enough to have any idea what their wishes would be. There would be no church service, only a priest saying a few prayers at the funeral home before a car drove us to the cemetery. We locked eyes and sucked in a long breath before strolling inside.
Two closed caskets lay at the front of the long room with two floral arrangements on either side. I ambled over to read the cards. One was from my mother’s sister who only lived in New Jersey and didn’t come in person to pay her respects, and a couple were from my father’s job. I contemplated sending flowers, but why? Why would you send a gift to someone in death who would probably throw it back in your face if they were alive?
My eyes drifted around the room, avoiding my parents on purpose. When they landed on the wooden boxes, my gaze clouded. Part of me wanted to pound my fists on the wood, demanding an answer for shunning me for so many years. The other part wanted to collapse in tears and beg them for forgiveness for not being the daughter they wanted. I cupped my throat, rubbing away the growing lump that was almost asphyxiating me.
Other than a half a row of mourners in the middle of the room, it was empty. A morbid thought of my own funeral entered my mind. Would it be as empty as this? Victoria would have a ton of people there for her I was sure, her father and Brianna and all the friends I knew she’d cultivate over the years. No matter what I did in this world, I was leaving behind something precious in her. A tear snaked down my cheek for my parents and the life and love they squandered.
“Sara, remember Toniann?” The little blonde pixie’s eyes filled with tears as she embraced me in a hug. I was relieved someone other than me was here to give her support, especially today.
“Where’s the priest?” I asked my sister as I impatiently searched the back of the room. It was a long day already and I wished he’d arrive soon to get the show on the road.
I found him as he closed the door behind one last mourner. When the man in the dark suit lifted his head, all the air expelled from my lungs in a whoosh.
"Drew?" I croaked as my eyes slow blinked at the sight before me. He buttoned his suit jacket before making a quick stroll over to me. He had to be an illusion, some kind of mirage my troubled mind conjured to get me through this awful day. How did he know, and how did he get here?
