“It means you float around in your little fairytale bubble and expect everyone to bow down because you give them that signatureI’m Violet,take-care-of-mesmile. And the fucked up part is that it works! It works every fucking time. It worked on me. It worked on Dad. It worked on Landon.”
“I don’t have a signatureanything.”
“Please. While you’re off in Never Never Land following your heart, or the universe’s queues, or the goddamn birds singing their little goddamn songs, the rest of us have to make sure you don’t do something to get yourself killed. Growing up, guess who brought you home and made sure you were fed? Guess who took you in six months ago and put a roof over your head?”
“I didn’t force you to do any of that!” I cry. “I came here to reconnect with you, and you pushed me away at every single turn. I wanted to reunite with my sister, who I admired and adored, and you had no interest.”
“Because you’re a burden!” she snaps. “You’ve always been a burden. To me. To Dad. To Mom. I give it a month before Landon feels the same.”
The venom in her words makes me step back. “What are you talking about?”
“I left town to get away from you! I left town so I wouldn’t be stuck mothering you for the rest of your life. And what did you do? You followed me here! I never wanted to see you again.”
My voice is weak when I ask, “Why did you leave to get away fromme?”
That’s when I see it in her eyes. Loathing. Clear as the damn day, I see it, and it cuts me deep as I realize it isn’t new. It isn’t because of Landon. It’s too strong, like it’s been building up for years and years, and I wonder…has it always been there? Have I been oblivious to it all this time?
“Because you’re the reason Mom killed herself!”
FORTY-TWO
All the blood rushes out of my face, and my chest goes tight. My breath releases in a violent rush as I stare at my sister in blatant disbelief that she’d take it this far. “That’s not true,” I say, shaking my head.
“Wakeup,Violet,” she snaps. “She was never the same after you were born.”
“That’s not true,” I repeat.
“Itistrue.”
“Mom suffered from depression all her life,” I tell her. “It had nothing to do with me. She was sick. She was really, really sick.” But I can’t tell if I’m trying to convince Mel or myself, and my hands start to shake. I press them against the counter to make them stop.
“She was never depressed until you were born.”
“You’re lying,” I say, shaking my head, trying to ignore the accusation in her eyes. “You’re just trying to hurt me.”
“She wanted to get away from you just as much as I did,” Mel says. I told myself I was done with her, I told myself I didn’t care what she said, but her words pierce me over and over again as I try to figure out what she’s implying. “How did you not realize that I resented you?” she asks with a laugh. “When Mom had her episodes, Dad pushed you off onme.You becamemyresponsibility, and you followed me around, begging for attention. So, I told you to be quiet and small and leave me alone. So many times, I brushed you off, but you never got the hint.”
Be quiet so you don’t upset Mom.
Be good so Mom doesn’t have an episode.
Don’t bother Mom with your problems.
Don’t cry, or Mom will be upset.
I remember, as a kid, trying to make myself as small as possible. I put everyone first. I never cried. I never whined. I tried to be the perfect, angel child that Mel told me to be. I trusted her because she was my big sister, my favorite person, my hero. She was beautiful and smart and driven. I wanted to be just like her.
All that time, I thought Mel was looking after me. Taking care of me. Helping me.
But now I realize the truth.
I was an obligation she wanted nothing to do with.
“All I wanted to do was get out of that town. Get away from all of it, but you followed me around like this pathetic little puppy,” she continues on. “You had this tragic desire to be loved by everyone, and no matter how many times I ignored you or left you behind, you always bounced back with that stupid smile on your face.”
“You left me behind on purpose?” I ask, my voice sounding far away.
I remember all the times she didn’t pick me up from school. I would wait in the hallway until the janitor had to lock up, at which point I would sit outside until she finally showed up. I always thought she was busy. I thought she was trying her best to juggle school and Mom and family obligations.
