Gray Heat
Can you imagine how BORING eternal isolation would be? I mean, no people, no chocolate, NOTHING! Why Elsa wanted that life was beyond me. After a while I started making up explanations in my head; Elsa was agoraphobic. Elsa was socially impaired. Elsa didn't like me. Okay, I wasn't too fond of the latter possibility, but after years and years of my sister ignoring my pleas, the idea didn't seem too far off. Maybe she distasted all life on Earth. Nevertheless, how could someone want to be alone?
And then it hit me. Maybe, maybe Elsa didn't want to live in solitude. Maybe something was confining her to that tiny room, something that she feared so much; so much that she couldn't talk about it.
Still, there was an unbridgeable gap left between us. That's the worst feeling in the world; knowing that you can't help someone when they need your help the most. I wanted to help my sister express whatever she was feeling. When I was little, I'd write some questions for Elsa on a sheet of paper and slip them under her door, hoping that maybe, she'd find the strength to answer them.
What's your favorite color? I'd scribble across the paper. Blue, she'd write back, in her beautiful, loopy cursive script that my choppy printing would never live up to.
Whatcha doin' in there? A blank space.
Why don't we talk so much? A blank space.
Do you wanna build a snowman? Another blank space.
I wrote out those same four questions every single day. Elsa always gave the same, single response.
At twelve years old I had a much better way with words. I gave Elsa letters, upon letters, upon letters.
To my sister-
I really want you to come out and talk to me. It's lonely here all by myself. I suppose that room is feeling a bit desolate as well. Just come out for a minute so we can see each other. I won't make you talk if you don't want to. And you can go right back in afterwards, I swear I'll never bother you again.
-Your sister
Elsa-
I miss you a lot. Just so you know, it's okay if you don't come out, I understand. I'll still love you no matter where you are. Here, there, somewhere faraway… We'll always be sisters. I just wish we could be better friends.
-Anna
Elsa-
There's a good chance you're not going to answer this, but why do you like to be alone?
-Anna
A few days later I went to see Elsa again, that being when she hesitantly slid a small, folded notecard beneath the door.
"Are you sure you want me to read this, Elsa?" I asked.
No response. So I opened it.
Dear Anna,
I have to protect you. This is the only way I can. I hope you'll understand someday.
Love, Elsa.
It was the first time she'd written anything other than "blue," and it was amazing. But I wanted to see her. I wanted to look her in the eyes and tell her how much I loved her. I opted for writing another letter.
Elsa,
First off, thank you for writing back. I know how hard it is for you. But I'd just like to know how separating the two of us can be beneficial.
I love you. –Anna
Dearest Anna,
I have to protect you. I love you more than you will ever know, which is why we can't be together. That's all that matters.
-E.
Elsa,
I don't like your new signature too much because it doesn't involve your entire, beautiful name, and I would prefer your name over any other signature.
Pleeeaaassseee stop protecting me from whatever you're protecting me from, because I'm not afraid of it and if it means we get to see each other, then I think it's worth it.
-A (because, really, you asked for it.)
Sweet Anna,
Your safety is my first concern.
Love, Elsa.
Elsa-
It doesn't have to be this way. You don't have to look out for me anymore. I think that being together would help out more than being apart, anyway.
-Anna
After a few years, you get tired of waiting for another vague response from someone who's booted you out of their life. I gave up. I lost my parents. I lost Elsa. I lost myself.
I couldn't have begged her enough to come out of there. I was so angry with her, but it all came storming out of me through raging, despondent sobs.
"Please," I whimpered repeatedly. "Please, please, please." It was like she couldn't even hear it. Out of everything spiteful I've ever said to my sister, I regret my next bitter comment the most.
"That frozen heart of yours has never gotten you far, anyway." I left.