Big Brother, Little Sister
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Six Feet Under.
Eleven year old Claire rolled off her purple bed and walked towards the bathroom. She passed her older brother's room on the way. She could hear the faint music of some popular band that her brother adored.
All apologies
What else could I say
She chewed on her lower lip as she smelled weed drifter from out his door. He smoked that stuff a lot. Nate said it made him relax and that it made him understand things that he never could before.
What else should I be
All apologies
She paused outside his door for a moment and listened. She turned out the music for a moment. Was her brother crying? Was her almost 30 year old, strong, older brother crying? No…he wouldn't…would he? Taking a deep breath, Claire pushed open his door.
In the sun
In the sun I feel as one
"What's wrong?" she asked Nate.
He turned to face her, a joint in his left hand. The gray smoke circling around his face. She could make out his red eyes.
"Kurt Cobain died today. He killed himself," he said, taking a puff.
I wish I was like you
Easily amused
"Oh," was all she could say, she wasn't sure how to react.
Nate sniffed.
"It's so sad, the man was a genius," he said.
Find my nest of salt
Everything is my fault
"Well his music will still live on," Claire said.
Nate smiled a little. She was a smart girl.
Sunburn with freezeburn
Choking on the ashes of her enemy
"You want to try some?" he asked her, holding up the joint.
"Sure," she said, walking into his room and shutting the door behind her.
Nate pulled her into his lap and placed the white blunt in between her fingers. She brought it up to her mouth and took a puff, just like she had seen Nate do a million times before. She coughed a little, but Nate rubbed her back and told her that was a normal reaction at first. A calm feeling began to fall over her as she took a few more drags. She snuggled against her brother and looked up at him.
"That stuff is awesome," she smiled, her head falling against his chest.
Nate smiled and kissed her forehead.
"I've always thought so."
All in all is all we are
"Are you sure I don't like a complete idiot?" she asked him for the hundredth time.
"No, Claire you look like a moron," Nate replied with a wry grin.
She smirked a little and playfully punched his shoulder.
"Fuck you," she said, sticking her tongue out.
He chuckled lightly and looked her over. He couldn't believe how fast his little sister had grown up. It was hard for him to stomach that she was now sixteen and dating guys; he hated thinking that she kissed guys, let alone the face that she was probably having sex with them. She was fidgeting with her hair again, tucking it and un tucking it from behind her ear. A dark purple satin gown clung to her every curve. When the fuck did Claire get all those curves? Claire let out a little sigh and turned back to her brother, a small half smile decorating her face.
"Promise not to hassle my date?" she asked.
"Scout's honor," Nate said, holding up two fingers.
"Thank God."
"You look amazing, Claire. You'll knock them all dead."
"Aw thanks big bro," Claire grinned, pecking his cheek.
As Nate watched Claire leave with her prom date, he began to wonder about so many things. Was he a good brother to her? Their father was never around much…well yes he was, he just was so distant. Nate had realized a long time ago that he was meant to be Claire's protector and provider. That was a responsibility he was more than willing to take on.
Claire stared at the cantaloupes in front of her. She could hear Nate's heavy breathing next to her. Her fingers wrapped around the juicy plump melon. It felt so smooth and round. She lifted it up and hurled it against the clean white floor of the grocery store. It made smashed and left an orange and green goop against the perfectly spaced tiles. The warm salty tears began to stream down her face.
"Why did he have to die?" she cried out, her voice mixed with anger and hurt and maybe a trace of unbelief.
Nate pulled his little sister against his warm body. Sobs began to form as she gripped Nate's brown corduroy jacket and buried her face into his chest.
"I don't know, Claire, I don't know," he tried to soothe in her ear as he began to rock her gently.
She heard footsteps behind her and she turned to face a store clerk wearing an ugly green smock.
"Excuse me, but you're going to have to pay for that cantaloupe," he told her, having witnessing her hurl it to the ground moments ago.
Claire's eyes grew wide with rage, turning a little bit more, but not letting go of her brother's jacket. How dare he? Who the fuck did he think he was? He was nothing than a fucking loser in a green apron, who would probably spent the rest of his life stocking up eggs in the produce section. Her father had just died and Claire thought that entitled her to throwing as many cantaloupes as she wanted to out of grief.
"Fuck off!" she yelled at the guy as she furiously wiped at her tears.
The guy looked at her in a mixture of shock and amazement. He went to open his mouth again.
"You heard her, she said fuck off," Nate said to him.
The store clerk retreated in defeat. Claire could have sworn that she heard him mutter 'you'll still have to pay for that' under his breath as he walked away. Nate turned Claire's face back around towards him. Her eyes were red and raw, tears were still falling down them, but she was laughing. That made Nate smile.
"Can you believe that fuck?" she asked, her laughter growing.
Nate shook his head.
"Living people…I much prefer working with the dead," he grinned, reaching up to stroke her soft red hair.
Claire's laughter died down, but a soft smile remained on her face as she rested her head against Nate.
"Let's go back home," he said softly.
She nodded and placed her hand in his. The two walked through the automatic doors. Somehow Claire knew everything would be ok. Her big brother would be right there by her side. She never did pay for that cantaloupe.
Claire's fair head was resting against the arm of the couch. Nate watched as her eyes fluttered in and out of sleep. He wondered how many drugs she was taking. Now he knew he wasn't one to talk, he had done and still did his fair share of drugs. But he worried over her. It was bad enough taking the call when his father died and preparing the body, but he could not handle finding his little sister dead from some drug overdose.
A pale arm fell over the couch, her hand brushing against the soft carpet. Nate glanced over at her and noticed the marred, scabby, pinkish scars on her wrist.
"Claire!" Nate unexpectedly shouted.
Claire awoke abruptly and shot up on the couch.
"What!" she yelled, looking around the room.
Nate stood up and walked over to her, grabbing her mutilated left wrist. Claire winced slightly and looked up at him. He didn't say anything, he just lifted her off the couch.
"Claire…I can't loose you. I can't," he whispered, sitting down and pulling her into his lap.
She rested her head against him, curling her tiny body against his frame.
"I could never leave you. Or David…or mom," she said softly as he stroked her hair.
Nate smiled and hugged her close. He decided, after witnessing his little sister's birth that he was going to die before her. For Nate, it may seem like he was cold, heartless and an asshole at times, because he was, but there were people he loved and cared about and he would do anything for them. Maya, his little angel, being one, then his Mom, Claire and David. Brenda was another story.
"Do you have any pot?" she asked.
Nate laughed.
"I think you know the answer to that."
She couldn't stop from crying, her throat was so raw that every time she tried to grasp for air or swallow it would burn. In a rage, she began to pull all the drawers out from her dresser. Each fell to the floor with a loud bang. She pulled a plastic baggie out of one of them and let out a frustrated scream . She dropped to her knees and pulled the baggie inside out and proceeded to lick the last faint remains of the weed out of it.
This wasn't fair. He didn't deserve to die. He was fine a few hours ago. She was talking to him and they were laughing…and no, it just wasn't right or fair.
"Why?" she choked out to nobody.
The tears started to fall again as she clawed at the carpet. The ragged stuffed bear Nate had given to her when she was a baby had fallen out of one of the drawers. Claire grabbed it and hugged it tightly to her chest.
"Hey, little sister, don't cry over me," Nate said.
Claire sniffled and peered up at her brother, over the teddy's head.
"Why do people have to die?" she asked.
"To make life important," he replied, giving her a smile.
"It's not fair."
"Claire, you're a little too old for the life isn't fair speech. It will be ok, Claire. You're going to live to be 102 years old and you're going to live an amazing life. You're going to die safe and warm in your bed."
"I want you here…I want you alive."
"Claire, stop it. It's too late to change what happened. But don't give up, baby girl. I need you to take care of mom and David and you have to look after Maya and Willa for me. They need their Aunt Claire. You have to promise me this."
She pushed back another swell of tears.
"I promise," she whispered.
"That's my girl. I'll always be watching over you."
Claire was nestled in her warm bed. The photographs she had taken were hanging on the walls and the sun was streaming through the windows. She knew her life was drawing to an end. Nate had been right. She had lived a full and meaningful life and at 102 years old, it was time for it to end. Claire took her last breath and let death take her away.