I have made a lot of mistakes in life—more than a lot.
I don’t have everything together like most would assume from the outside looking in.
To most, me and Katie had a normal childhood. When askedhow things were at home, my reply was always “fine.”
I’d go to the grave before admitting the truth about the abuse and trauma we suffered growing up in that house. Katie, though, she may be my little sister but she has some serious strength and resilience. She doesn’t give a toss anymore. She’s vocal about what we’ve been through ever since she had that breakdown. She doesn’t hide her pain, her truth, or, at least, the parts she cannot hide. I have a sneaking suspicion that she is hiding something about her past. She’s opened up about almost everything to me, but there is something she refuses to talk about, and if it is what I think it is, it breaks my heart that I could not protect her.
I’ve done some major reflection since January, searching deep within myself to try and understand why I do the things I do. After falling down the rabbit hole with Google and talking to Katie, who has the weirdest habit of psychoanalysing me, I’ve discovered a lot of it is due to trauma.
Stockholm syndrome, as Katie referred to it, I protect my abusers to this day. I’ve developed OCD with cleaning because it’s the one thing I have always had control over. I couldn’t stop our parents from drinking, but I could keep our living space clean. It’s a coping mechanism that helps me feel safe and in control amidst chaos. I used alcohol as a way to numb the pain and escape reality, but now I’m working on healthier coping mechanisms with the help of therapy and a heap of meditation.
The door to the function room opens, and I see him before I see her.
Aiden steps into the room like an unofficial bodyguard; already, I can see him scanning every face in the room in the time it takes Katie to step through the door behind him. Hisarm is around her waist in an instant, guiding her towards the centre of the room.
“Who is that?” Sarah tosses her black hair over her shoulder.
“That’s Aiden, Katie’s new boyfriend,” I reply, watching as they make their way through the crowd with ease.
Sarah was one of Katie’s friends when they were teenagers. She became pregnant at sixteen and dropped out of school, not uncommon for anyone growing up in an underdeveloped area like we did. I don’t know what happened with them. I know Katie was still close with her until her early twenties before they drifted apart. It couldn’t have been the kid thing; that divide would have happened sooner if that were the case. I think it had something to do with one of Sarah’s boyfriends; I vaguely remember Katie ranting about it to Maria. It definitely was not a jealousy thing anyway. I may be biassed in saying it, but Sarah hasn’t gotten a patch on my sister; she’s passable at the best of times, and the guys she sees are meh at best.
Well matched in the looks department, harsh or not, it’s a reality.
One look at Katie and Aiden, and anyone can tell they’re well suited for each other. Even if he does look at her like a lion eyeing a gazelle, he’s not just protective of my sister; he’s obsessed.
“I’ll go and say hi,” Sarah adjusts her dress, trying to push her breasts up a little higher. She honestly can’t help herself. She thinks she’s fucking stunning. What I wouldn’t give to have that confidence. I can see it before it happens, she’s going to fall flat on her face.
Maybe this is why she and Katie stopped being friends? Sarah clearly doesn’t give a damn that Aiden is stuck to mysister like glue; she’s going to try and flirt with him, seduce him. I would put a stop to this immediately, but I want to see this car crash go down. It’s like watching a train wreck in slow motion; I can’t look away. Not when she approaches them with a honey-laced, harpy grin or brushes her fingers against Aiden’s arm. He glances at the spot her fingers touched, as if she just sneezed in her hand and wiped it on him.
“Oh shit,” I mutter into my glass. The grin he gives her is cruel at best. I can’t hear what he says, but whatever it is, it makes Sarah’s jaw hit the floor and her face turn bright red.
Katie’s eyes meet mine, there is a twinkle of amusement dancing in them as she watches the drama unfold. I try to suppress a smile, but it’s impossible to pretend I’m not greatly amused by Sarah storming off in a huff.
“You’re losing your touch,” I say to Aiden, stepping up beside him and Katie. “She didn’t cry.”
Aiden’s lips curve into a genuine smirk. “I try not to make a scene. It’s your nephew’s big day after all.”
“We better say hi.” Katie tugs on Aiden’s arm, leading him towards Anthony and the two boys. Liam lights up when he sees her coming, his face breaking into a wide grin.
“So that’s the boyfriend?” Michael asks, raising an eyebrow. He has the same dark brown hair as our mam, and his eyes are a striking hazel like dad’s. “How old?”
“Thirty-one.”
He gives Aiden the once-over, then growls, “He’s too old for her.”
“He’s younger than her, you muppet.” Rolling my eyes, I take a sip of my drink, biting back a snarky comment.
Michael is the oldest and with the exception of Anthony’s recent degree, he is the best educated of all of us. However,he’s all book smart, completely devoid of common sense. I’ve never met anyone who is so smart and yet so absurdly stupid at the same time.
He looks at me as if he’s trying to calculate how much time he has missed with Katie over the years.
Brother by blood and blood alone, he made a run for it when he was sixteen; he’s nothing but an acquaintance to Katie. She doesn’t know him, and he most certainly doesn’t know her.
“She’s thirty-three, dumbass.” I shouldn’t be surprised. Michael only thinks of himself. I only hear from him when he needs money, and Anthony only hears from him when he wants to stay a night in his because he’s closer to work and saves him on petrol. Katie never hears from him. Ever. He was an arsehole to her growing up anyway; she never needed him and never missed him.
While I cleaned to cope with our tumultuous upbringing, Katie was quiet—too quiet, gullible, a pushover—until that breakdown she had at twenty-six. Trauma, autism, and ADHD don’t mix well. She turned to food to numb the pain, and she gained quite a bit of weight. Michael made sure to point it out to her every chance he got. He would offer to bring her out for the day and criticise her food choices and her dress size if he were ever buying her clothes. It wasn’t enough that she was bullied at school, and by Mam, he had to add his toxic opinions to the mix.
Anthony tried to help from the distance he put in, but it was all too easy for him to avoid what was going on at home when he moved out. Out of sight, out of mind. That’s what we were. I had the option to leave; I had an out. Two friends of mine wanted to split the cost of renting a three-bedroom house not far from home, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do what mybrothers did and leave Katie to the wolves. I couldn’t leave her. I’m far from perfect; I never claimed to be. I’m her big sister; it was my job to protect her when our parents failed to do it. Which makes what happened back in January all the more hurtful—the guilt weighs heavy on my shoulders.
