"You must not be alone; for to be alone is to be full of fears and alarms." ~ Bram Stoker
To: Mom
From: Me
Hey mom, sorry for saying this just now but I'll be staying with Sis for the week. Hope you don't mind.
As you hop on the bus on your way to your sister's apartment, you send the text, plug in your headset to your sister's Walkman, and tune in to…
…
-!
Oh, right… We accidentally swapped.
Forgot that she has my Electro and Rock playlist.
Eh, some melancholic R&B should do for now. It's not too bad.
~Mom… Turn back…~
Today was more than you'd expect. Aside from the aforementioned, the newbie teacher in Phys Ed was introducing the different knots mountaineers use and he decided it was a good idea to hold a timed competition between classmates. It was not a good idea, to say the least.
~Mom… Go back…~
Meanwhile, Entrepreneurship was an entire period willingly made free by the most laid-back teacher to either nap or finish your other requirements. Now that's a good idea. You decided to check on your group for Practical Research, the leader said it's going smoothly.
Finally, to prolong the end of the day, the Disciplinary Committee called a short gathering to briefly remind everyone of the oncoming club fair next week, all will be discussed in the morning, so the gathering was just for mental preparation.
~Mom… Half-father… Scolding… Get back…~
Not in the mood to read, you scan the passengers rather hastily.
An elderly man with a newspaper, a few napping working-class citizens and four chatting students.
You zone out staring at the bus window. For some reason, your vision narrows to you looking at your reflection as your hazel eyes dart between your eyes, then your lashes, then your brows, until your nose and back again in random sequence.
Is the air getting stale or thin?
~Arguments… Angry… Stress… Go back… Hurry up…~
Despite trying to recall everything that's happened (in a slight attempt to distract oneself), you finally tear away to notice your left leg thumping. You barely managed to firmly plant your hand over your knee only to feel a slight ache near your calf. The lyrics of the song suddenly become less muddled as the dancing keys of the piano solo snaps back into focus.
Right. I was tuning in to music.
Letting go of your leg, you lean your head back to stare at the bus ceiling.
Fucking anxiety kicking in.
Not an attack. Not yet.
Calm down. Nothing's happened yet.
Mom still hasn't called you.
With a long exhale before breathing normally to quell the growing fear, you finally look beyond the window to see the sky's long gradient of sleepy purple to hazy orange, the lime coin that is the Sun telling you that it'll be just before nightfall by the time you arrive.
But still earlier than Sis, that's for sure.
Wonder if some marble potato with cheese is her vibe tonight.
She better have meat…
You continue to stare at the sunset.
Sunset…
Sun…
Sunny…
!
Sunny, the kid with an eyepatch. A kid whose older sister reportedly committed suicide four years ago. You had a few assumptions about him. Throughout the day, you were trying to imagine what his family is like, what his friend group would consist of, and what could possibly make an older sister give up on life and leave her younger brother alone…
Then you subconsciously veered off and thought of your own older sister.
I'm surprised she's still being considerate of our… Family…
I keep having less energy left each day.
What would happen if she just went and jumped ship? Will I be able to join her?
You'd go on but you remembered about the kid, so you shake your head to gather your thoughts, pull out your small notepad from your bag, then read through what you wrote down.
Sunny. Plain white eyepatch. Vertical slit of a wound running across the right eye. Accident? Definitely something sharp. But how? Attacked? Why? Mugger?
Thick raven hair. Seems Asian. Black wool vest. Formal dresser by lifestyle. Easy to scare. Awkward in conversations. Any friends in school?
You then pull out a pen to add a few new observations as you try to recall what he looks like.
Bruises on his legs. Pale, but slowly recovering color. Antisocial? Shut-in? Explains a lot. Unnaturally thin. Stick. Depression? Likely since his sister's death.
Your phone vibrates. A text.
To: Me
From: Mom
You're already on your way, aren't you?
Just take care. And do call. And ask ahead of time, not on a whim. Please.
You will be back for the weekend with your sister, right? Samson, Samantha, and I miss you two very much.
Also, your uncle might have some chores for you.
You blink twice before arching an eyebrow.
Might have? I'd say he still has, not might have…
He never runs out of things for us to take care of in the house.
In hindsight, this probably looks like running away temporarily. Oh how sweet it would be to turn eighteen years old in a couple of months. Your half-father, which your original family sometimes calls him 'uncle' just for simplicity, would probably have some things to say about all this.
Regardless, it's a genuine surprise to receive a milder response than… Whatever your mind is panicking about. You really hate stepping out of line, especially when it comes to family, you just don't want to admit it despite your personality.
Old habits die hard, I guess. Or is it trauma? I sure won't be able to find out anytime soon.
You start replying either way.
To: Mom
From: Me
Yeah. Sure. Sorry for the short notice. I promise we'll call them every other night. Noted. Love you and miss you guys very much.
You hear the jingling of keys outside the apartment door as you head into the bathroom.
Followed by the door swinging open, you stay very still so as to not make a noise. You hear someone sniffing the air before calling out, "Hello, dearest sister! I'm home~"
The bubbly shout laced with a caramel voice echoes throughout and you let out a 'sigh' before replying, "Hey, Sis. Welcome back."
That came out less tired than you intended. You then lock the bathroom door to take a leak.
…
"I knew it was you from the smell of cheese the moment I entered!"
"Seriously?"
"You haven't set the table yet."
"In the bathroom…"
"I'll help you out!"
"I… Thanks…"
…
Once you are finished with your business, you wash your hands.
Pulling up your long sleeves to reveal your very arms, you observe the complexion kept in an eternal struggle for consistency as some regions are more sunburned than others. A result of the constant need to finish chores in an attempt to learn how to manage your living space. Though there is nothing inherently wrong with that notion, you huff out a small scoff.
How easy it is to simply have a person do the things you can't or won't, especially if it's a family member, at the ready. Guess I have to give Cinderella points for that kind of reality.
You finally decide to look at the mirror.
Dull charcoal hair kept at shoulder-length and messy save the ones bunched to a single sleek strand to your right. A half-fulfilled promise between you and your sister, the asymmetry serving doubly as an intentionally tiny trace of rebellion within the family.
You take one good stare at your hair color as you touch the slightly fair, but dry, face that is framed by your hair.
Almost like a crow…
Your eyes widen at the tiny comparison. Your mind clicks as you recall your first short dream during break time.
That went quicker than expected.
But is that all there is to it?
I doubt it.
What about the second and third dream?
Not getting any closer to an answer as of now, you fix your long-sleeved, black gasoline shirt and pat your denim jeans before exiting the bathroom door to see your sister plating the now medium-well sauteed garlic beef steak slices.
Anyone would probably have a hard time believing you two are sisters. Her luscious silver hair is left wavy until her midriff, with the ends of her hair tipped in sky blue. The tan she has all over her light brown skin proves her outgoing nature, though she is not dedicated to sports as evidenced by her baggy yellow shirt (Too bright…) and brown cargo shorts. Hazel and light brown, her heterochromatic eyes are a tiny trace of family left between the two of you.
Though you don't mind the differences, sometimes you think it's better if she isn't a direct resemblance to either of your parents. The less of a reminder she is to what once was. It's already a struggle to handle your house life.
Or rather, life between houses.
Poor Natasha… At least you're freer now… You thought to yourself as you looked at her, the mismatched pair of eyes she owns now has a glow different from what it once held.
"You made dinner. How thoughtful of you," she compliments you as she brings out a pitcher of water from the fridge.
"You kinda need it," you shrug, slightly 'itching' your slightly warm cheek before looking at the cupboards, "besides... You have got to stop relying on cup noodles and candy."
"I'm only stocking them up to sell them to my colleagues. War rations are important for holding the front lines."
"Always making a profit, you opportunist." You exhale, preparing the glasses and taking a seat opposite of her. She wasn't bothered one bit by that comment given her chuckle before changing the topic.
"So… What did you do this time?"
"Huh?"
"You're awfully chipper today, did something happen?"
She noticed that? Dang.
You went straight to the point, "yeah, well, protected a kid from being bullied. Disciplinary committee stuff."
"Aww~"
"But, apparently, he has an eyepatch for a stab wound and news of a hanged sister four years ago."
"Have you confirmed it?"
"Not yet. I got some notes for you to read."
You pull out your notepad and hand it to her as she eats a spoonful of the dinner before taking a potato coated in melted parmesan. You follow suit as you take a bite of the relaxingly warm garlic meat and piping hot rice.
After a sip of water, she sets down the notepad as well, "curious little fella we have here."
"Right?"
In between eating and swallowing, the conversation continues.
"His name is Sunny. Who names their kid 'Sunny'?"
"That's what throws you off?"
"And to be saved by someone like you, an interesting coincidence."
"What's even more interesting is that he went upstairs instead of downstairs. Kid probably doesn't want to trip and fall."
"I'd do that too."
"You'd do a lot of weird things as normally as opening a door."
"Thank you!"
"… So… What do you think?"
"Hmm~?" She hums questioningly as you drink the refreshingly cold water to wash down the salt residing on your tongue.
"What do you think? About the kid? What should we do? I doubt this will just be a one-time thing. I think the kid's gonna stick with me until the bullies let him go."
"The inciting incident beckons, doesn't it?" She replies rather cheerfully.
"Please, no literary devices involved."
"Well, I think you should talk to him more."
"Huh?"
She finally stands up to get a second serving, she continues while her back is facing you, "you said that it will be more than a one-time thing, so why not milk the cow for all it's worth?"
You shrug, "eh. You think I'm in a position to do that?"
"If it were up to me, I'd listen to him talk first before helping him to the guidance counselor's office," she replies as she sits down and continues eating.
"Really now? You're too kind."
"I trust our experience there, at the very least. Are you asking me to doubt even that now?"
"It's just no longer that easy since they changed the counselor, especially with students who come in there only to lounge and whatnot with the personnel there. Their boredom becomes an obstacle for others to even try opening the door."
"Your cynicism is showing, dearest sister."
"… Good point. Sorry."
"It's okay! Perhaps you do have a point as well, which will become your reason for talking to Sunny."
You stare at her in disbelief, did she really just flip the tables on me?
With no better rebuttal, you simply exhale as you finish your dinner and start putting your plate on the sink, "fine, you got me there."
"You don't sound so reluctant there. I would've used leverage against you had you declined one more time."
"That's devious of you."
"I got a magnifying glass in my drawers if you want."
"No thanks."
"How about a monocle?"
"Why the heck do you have a monocle?"
"I actually don't, I'm just messing with you."
A hearty, and slightly haughty, laugh rings throughout the room. You roll your eyes.
"But I do have a friend who knows someone severely affected by that news. I hear he's studying to be a doctor."
You look at her, no signs of bluff or mischief etched in her face as she attempts to smile.
That was her leverage?!
"I can find a way to talk to him."
"Thanks."
"Small world we live in, huh?"
"You can say that again. Just don't forget to catch up with your… Other units. Dad is wondering how you've been handling college, especially since that happened."
"I am made aware."
Sometimes you wonder if you'll ever become truly jaded in life. Maybe not if your weirdo of a sister is keeping you from falling that metaphorical cliff. How rarer the good and selfless things are in this world with each passing day.