My father grabs her hand and brings it up to his lips, pressing a kiss over the back of her hand to assure her that it’s not a big deal. She smiles at him softly and noticeably relaxes at his gesture before turning to look in the back seat, giving Sophie an apologetic look.
My sister tries her very best to be as patient as an angel, just as she’s always been. She’s never been a troublesome kid. No tantrums and always listens to what Mom and Dad tell her. Her teachers and friends adore her and she doesn’t ever let the small things get her down. So she waits patiently, kicking her feet and humming the tune of the only song that is loaded onto the CD.
After a few more minutes of driving in silence, my dad decides it’s safe to finally reach down for the CD, leaving one hand on the wheel.
“Don’t worry about it, honey,” my mom urges him, but my dad has always been stubborn. He reaches down anyway, still keeping his eyes up and on the road. But something causes his hand to slip down on the wheel resulting in the car jerking violently to the left.
It happens so fast, but also in slow motion.
Sophie starts to panic as the car slides, screaming as she holds on to the arm rest of her booster while Mom tries to help gain control of the car. My father starts to sling expletives in worry as he attempts to right the car by turning the steering wheel straight. But after mere seconds of failing to readjust, the car hits a patch of ice and even though my dad tries slamming on the brakes…
The sound of screeching tires echoes against the sound of my little sister’s screams reverberating in the back of my mind. Not to mention to repeat of the song, as if there's a CD in my own mind skipping over and over again. I sit up, sweat percolating on my forehead as I breathe out in a panic. I can still feel the waves of terror that sunk into my bones that day lingering as I rub my eyes awake, desperate to rid myself of the nightmare.
But it’s only a nightmare when I sleep.
When I’m awake, it’s my reality.
The car rolled three times.
They found it in a ditch.
One casualty.
Sophie.
The happiest little girl in the world. The sweetest little sister I could have ever asked for.
Gone.
I was supposed to protect her, to look after her. And she died that day while they were on their way to come pick me up from my game. I had the option to ride with Bray’s parents; thefootball team was headed to his house for a celebration, but my mom had already texted me and told me that they were on their way and that Sophie had something big she wanted to tell me.
She never got to tell me.
That day, they had to miss my game because Soph had ballet tryouts. The news that she was excited to tell me . . . she got the role she wanted in the Peter Pan Ballet that her class was performing. She was going to be Tinker Bell.
I ram my fingers through my hair as tears fill my eyes, still trying to catch my breath. When I think about that day, I think about how much I hate myself for ruining that for her. I hate knowing that I wanted to tell my mom that she didn't need to pick me up, that I wanted to hang out with the boys after the game but I also didn’t want to let my little sister down. But I should have saidno, because she would have been able to tell me her news later. Maybe she would have been upset with me in that moment, but she would have still been alive. I know it’s not really my fault, but when the accident comes to me in my sleep, I wake up feeling like I could have changed the trajectory of that day with my choice to go with the boys instead. If I had only saidno.
My dad takes it the hardest though. He believes he was the one who caused the accident. I’ve never commented on his belief, and everyone is entitled to think what they will about it. I know that he loved my sister with all of his heart and I know that none of what happened that day was due to any true negligence or ill intent. It just happened.
The heartbreak from that day never fails to consume me, the torment of that memory seeping through from my sleep back into reality as I tear the blankets off my body. I don’t know exactly how the accident happened, only from what I know my parents relayed to the police and ambulance that arrived on scene. So what I conjure up some nights is only how the accidenthas been painted in my head. But the one thing that never fails to stand out in these nightmares as the impact takes place, is the image of Sophie’s beaded bracelets shattering and flying around in the air as the car tumbled.
She was big on friendship bracelets. Her wrists were usually adorned with five or six at a time and she loved to make them for her friends and dance team whenever it was a holiday or someone’s birthday. She even made bracelets for the freshman football team not long before her death and to this day, they hang from the lockers of the players who received one, some even still wear theirs. They made her so happy, and now they’re just a reminder to me of the most depressing day of my life.
Everything had been perfect that day. We all sat around the breakfast table eating the blueberry pancakes Mom had just whipped up. Granted, I only opted to take a single bite before trading them in for my protein shake. But Sophie was chowing down, singing and sipping her strawberry milk in between. Dad was helping with the dishes while Mom sat and sang with my little sister. And for once, I didn’t need to rush out the door for an early start to that Saturday morning game because it had been postponed an hour due to weather, which never happens.
But not once did I think that leaving the house that morning, giving my sister and mother a kiss on their cheeks before saying goodbye to my dad, would lead to my whole world being turned upside down.
Looking back now, I truly do think that the universe somehow knew that that would be my last moment with her, and the weather delay for the game was just more time granted to me to be able to do that. To see her smile one last time, to hear her laugh one more time. To hug her and kiss her goodbye instead of just rushing out the door as I usually do. At least I had that. I had that last moment with her and it was sweet and calm and peaceful. That’s how I’ll always remember her.
But I’ll still always be resentful toward that day. For once in my life, everything seemed easy. Everything was as it should have been, the way I’ve always imagined being a part of a family who loves me should feel. But just like that, it was stripped away and just when I was starting to feel full of love, my heart was emptied.
Now, letting love into my life seems kind of pointless. Those who had it took advantage of it and those I gave it to just . . . die or leave. I have my parents, sure. But nothing feels complete anymore. Everything feels cold and broken and lonely.
I can still hear her little voice bouncing around in my head, four years later. It feels so far away yet still so fresh. The last thing I can remember her talking about that morning was how she wanted to try and convince her ballet teacher to let her wear a purple Tinker Bell costume if she were to get the role, because green just wasn’t her color. She’d said it with the most sass she could conjure, waving her hand in feigned disgust with her best attempt at an eyeroll. It made us all laugh. That’s who she was; a personality far too big for such a little girl. And she’s gone.
I miss her laugh. I miss everything about her.
Sometimes, I spend my nights wishing it was me. Wishing I had been in the car, either to take her place or to . . . I don’t know, save her somehow. I wonder if she would have still been doing ballet or dance. Or if she would have decided to take on something else like band or volleyball. There once was a time when she said she wanted to be a football player like me, and even asked for her own football for Christmas. I painted it purple for her, and when she opened the box, it was the biggest smile I’d ever seen on her.
