Phoebe
Looking at her, lying there in bed is one of the fears that make me toss and turn at night. The fear that all will be lost. Our family. Our heritage. She smiles weakly at my older sister, Prue, trying to lift her head despite the many tubes. Prue can't look at her; her head is staring at the blank white hospital tiles, as if they will speak to her. My other sister, Piper is holding my hand tight, looking past everyone and out the window, it's almost ghostly. My grandmother finally speaks up; her voice raspy like nails on a chalk bored, it scares me to death. "Prudence, Piper, Phoebe." She pauses as if each and every word pains her, "I hate to do this Prudence, but I cannot think of another way." Prue still does not look Grams in the eye. She knows as well as we all do that she's going to have to drop out of photography school in New England, to take care of us. She's going to have to stay with us in California, and there is nothing she can do about it. I take a daring step and lead my eyes to Prue, to see her reaction. I can't see her face. She is bent over so that her dark hair covers her eyes. Eyes that obviously want to cry out have fear and rage trying to rip out. I can see her hands, they are clenched against the chair, white, the blue veins in her knuckles clear. She's filled with rage. I know it. She wants to punch someone, kill them. More likely she was hate, for this disease, we all do. It's an invisible body that consumes us and then dries our spirits. But she doesn't punch; she closes her eyes in defeat, and gives Grams a small nod.
PiperThe whole ride back from the hospital is silent. Prue and I sit in the front seat, and Phoebe in the back. Prue's eyes are red and splotchy, one of the only times I have seen her truly cry. Sometimes I want to tell her to let it all out, like I do. She probably does. She probably goes up to her room and yells into her pillow until her voice is hoarse and she is sick to her stomach. I wish she could let it out in front of us; instead of hiding it, it would make her seem so much more human. So much more, imperfect. I look at her; her blue eyes are focused on the road and her black hair falling at her shoulders. Even at a time like this, she looks beautiful. I better not lay my eyes on Phoebe; I'll just discourage myself and realize how freaking ugly I really am. I look back at Phoebe anyways, her long light brown hair back neatly, her eyes shining, now with tears. She gives me a little sad smile, I give her one back. It is not supposed to be she who is comforting me; I need to comfort her. Prue pulls up in the backyard and walks wordlessly up to the manor. She disappears inside the door, and we, the end of her life, we are left outside clinging to each other.
I look at Phoebe, "What are we going to do?" She holds on to me tighter.
"Prue is used to looking after us. It's not like she'll just abandon us after this." Phoebe shivers a bit in the cold air. It's a dreary day in California, sixty degrees, and misty. I zipper up my blue sweatshirt, it gets stuck in the middle, and I keep persisting, something to keep my mind off of Grams.
"Do you think Grams is okay?" Phoebe asks me, not really wanting to tell her, I shrug. Phoebe is open about everything; she can ask any question, never keep a secret. I prefer to ponder it myself, it's not like I really need to know.
"I think we should go inside." Phoebe says, looking at the window that holds Prue's room.
I shrug again, and step into the manor with Phoebe. The warm air surrounds me, and as Phoebe goes to run up the stairs, I stop her. "She needs to be alone." I try to think of something that will distract my younger sister, "Lets make cookies for Prue when she's ready to talk."
PrueHow dare they? How dare they take my dream away from me? How can this be happening? There isn't a thing I can do to stop it. I wish I didn't have sisters; they don't exist to me. Burying my head into the pillows, I cry. It's a very childish thing to do, I know, but I can't help it. It's not my sister's fault either, its purely bad luck, disease. It kills me inside to see Grams so sick. I can't have another die. I remember when mom died; I was eight years old then. The funeral was on a sunny day, I remember being angry because when mom left the Earth, nature seemed so happy. When my then five-year-old sister Piper asked me why, I said because the Earth was happy to have mom. Even now, as a twenty year old, I shiver at the thought of being buried deep in the ground, cold dirt being covered over my numb body. If that happens to Grams, I don't know what I would do. If it happens to Grams, there will be no coming back to my life. Somehow I have a bad feeling, in the pit of my stomach that Grams isn't going to be all right. I have a feeling that I will be staying at home taking care of Piper and Phoebe. I have to keep telling myself that they're not babies, Piper is seventeen and Phoebe is fifteen, but to me they will always need my care and protection.
There is a knock at the door, and I mumble something that is barely audible.
Piper comes in, her long brown hair pulled onto one shoulder. Every feature on her body hangs over like she's been beaten by some kind of sorrow. Her nose is red, which always happens when she is sad. Phoebe is the first to come sit on my bed; she sits on the end, and doesn't speak for a while. I have to be mature about this, I can't get angry with them; I'm supposed to be their caretaker.
"Prue, don't be mad at us." Phoebe says, giving me a puppy dog look.
"I-I'm n-not." I'm surprised at how weird my voice comes out.
"You have a right to be frustrated." Piper puts in wearily.
"I know." I say, Phoebe inches closer to me, she tries to give me a hug and I pull away.
"So you are mad."
I shrug, "No I'm not." Yeah I am. I don't want to talk about it, but I shrug again. Oh yes, I'm mad.
Piper"Prue, we need to talk about it." I look at my sister who hasn't sad more than ten words since, rubbing her on the back I say, "This is an equal assignment, we can take care of each other."
"Oooh!" Phoebe jumps up excitedly, and I smile at her, "Piper can do all the cooking, Prue can deal with the taxes and important adult stuff and…"
"Phoebe can do chores." For once Prue has a small smile on her face, she knows Phoebe can't back down now.
"Fine," Phoebe hugs Prue, and I put my head on her shoulder, "I will do chores."
"I'm always here if you need to talk." Looking Prue in the eyes is difficult, because hers are on the ground.
"I know sweetie, but I think I need to be alone now. Don't worry about anything; I'm enrolled in courses in the University of San Francisco." Prue tried to smile at us again; her eyes aren't twinkling.
"Okay, sis, we'll leave you alone. Call us if you need us." Phoebe and I start to leave, and Prue stops us.
"Thankyou. For everything. And Pheebs?"
"Yeah?"
"You don't have to quit your ballet lessons, Grams is making sure you stay." Prue knows this isn't fair, she knows that Phoebe loves her ballet lessons just like she loves her photography. Luckily, my passion is cooking, and I don't have to take a class for that, since Grams was the best teacher I had.
"Prue." Phoebe says, and I push her out the door.
"Bye." Prue says and gets back to some reading called The Joys of Home Photography.
Once in the big hallways of the manor, Phoebe turns to me and asks, "Do you think Prue will ever be okay with this?" I really don't know the answer to that question, besides, Prue is the one that answers all of Phoebe's curious questioning, and I don't know how she survives it.
"She'll get over it. Come on Pheebs, help me cook dinner for Prue." And Phoebe now knows I'm trying to tread away from that subject, she's a horrible cook, therefore I NEVER ask her to help me with dinner unless it's setting the tables.
Phoebe
"Wake up!" I open my eyes slowly to see Prue's hair in my face. "Sis, I gotta take you to school, it's just like you to get up late!" She throws me a pair of jeans and a tee shirt that says "University of San Francisco". "It's for good luck for me," She tells me, and I yawn, beginning to roll over. "Nuh-uh missy, you're getting up, your sister is already at the car, and she can't drive alone yet, that's next week."
"So?" I ask, grabbing the jeans, and taking a pit stop at the bathroom.
"So, we don't want Piper to get arrested while driving, so hurry up." She yells after me.
"Geez, someone's had their happy pills this morning." I mumble, looking through the crack of the door out at Prue.
I throw on my clothes, and look in the mirror, there's me, except I look older than yesterday. My eyes have circles around them, and my brown hair looks stringy against my navy sweatshirt. Really, I don't care what I look like now, the only reason I apply mascara and makeup is because my boyfriend, Ryder is at school, gotta look good for him. I'm a little woozy from my lack of sleep, but I stumble downstairs, grab a bite of toast, and am on my way. "Aren't you going to eat something?" I ask Piper, who is staring at herself in the rearview mirror.
"Nah, I'm not that hungry. Come on Prue, we're late!" She says, and Prue drives off. I don't get why Piper cares so much about what people think of her in school. Highschool is a trap for those kinds of people, it's pretty easy for me, because I'm used to those bitch-girls talking behind my back. It doesn't bother me at all; I just wish Piper would learn that.
We stop at the highschool, and I doze through my first few classes. Ryder meets me outside Mr. Murphy's science classroom, and gives me a kiss. We've only been going out for a week, but I really like him. He smiles at me, pushes back his dark hair, and puts his arm around my waist. PDA, it's not like anyone else cares, Piper would slap me if she saw this, but geez, sometimes she needs to get a life. People gasp at me because I'm a freshman and he's a junior, two-year difference. Gasp. I have to keep it a secret, as much as I want to piss people off, I don't want to piss Prue. She's angry, and usually she isn't the type to, lets say, not yell with her anger, so I can't make her anymore frustrated than she already is. Ryder squeezes my butt and I look at him, surprised, it's not like I've never been squeezed there, but I just met Ryder, and the feeling makes me weirdly uncomfortable. I want him to stop. "Ryder!"
Mr. Murphy steps outside and eyes Ryder wearily, "Mr. Samuelson, please get to your class. We don't need you turning our freshman students in to skanks, thankyou."
He shrugs and walks away, as I walk into another boring science class.
The bell rings an hour later, and I am so happy to get out, nobody can deal with more than one hour about freaking rocks. My eyes are half closed, only to be opened by the blinding light of the cafeteria. I notice Piper sitting alone at one of the tables, not eating anything. Then some guys come up to her and laugh. Uh oh.
I go closer so I can hear what they're saying.
"Piper! What the hell are you doing sitting here all alone?"
Shit. Piper's not answering them.
"Come on Piper!" One of the guys laughs and touches her inappropriately. "Talk to me."
Another guy with red hair laughs, "Ew, why would you want to go out with her she's goddamn ugly!"
Piper's guy friend, Justin comes up to them and glares, "Leave her alone, get away!"
They unwillingly leave. I bet they're on pot or something ridiculous like that. I walk over to them and hear Justin say, "Piper, don't listen to them, you're beautiful."
"No I'm not." She huffs, and puts her head on the table; her eyes are rimmed red.
"Those guys are such idiots Pipe." I rub her on the back and lean on her shoulder.
"Easy for you to say, you're beautiful, you have breasts. Your life is at ease." I can tell Piper is trying so hard not to cry, and it breaks my heart.
Piper
I hate this world, I really do. People are so rude, and ugh, why don't they like me? I furiously mix the eggs and milk together. The smell of it makes me sick; I don't want to eat it, yet I'm still cooking it. Cookies are browning in the oven; they used to smell good, now they don't. I take them out and see that they are horribly burnt. Little pieces of black charcoal, I throw them out. They're so imperfect, I can relate. Oh well, I wasn't going to eat them any anyways.
The house is really empty this time. Phoebe is at ballet lessons, and Prue is at some class or another. Our house is an old Victorian, so it creaks really easily. It freaks me out. I leave the milk and eggs out to slowly rot, and run upstairs to my bed. I don't really know what to do with these feelings, what can I do besides cry and scream? God, why did I have to be so ugly? Why couldn't I have been born perfect like Prue and Phoebe?
It's no use, I can't seem to find anything that will satisfy this hunger; nothing will work. The phone rings, and I run to pick it up. "Hey Grams, why are you calling? You shouldn't…"
"Don't you tell me what I can and cannot do young lady, I called here to talk to my pretty young granddaughters and that's what I'll do." Piper rolled her eyes.
"Well unfortunately, you get one ugly old granddaughter, cause your other pretty ones are off having a life." I laugh half-heartedly, trying to make it sound like a joke.
"Are you off on this kick again, Piper? How many times do I have to tell you this isn't true? You're lovely." Grams coughs into the phone.
I decide to change the subject for the better of it all, "So how are you feeling Grams?"
"Just fine." She says, slowly. But I can hear the pain in just her voice; I can't lose her. My mother died when I was five, my father left when I was three, and my older sister is beginning to fade away, I cannot just lose Grams. "Where are your sisters?" She asks, it's a subject changing parade, we're not comfortable enough to talk to each other about the things that bother us, even though I've known Grams my whole life.
"Prue's taking some classes at the University, and Phoebe is at ballet."
"I'm glad Prudence didn't stay mad forever about her photography school. It's good she can finally move on."
"I know Grams, but she really loved it." I say into the phone and hear a tap on the shoulder behind me.
"Really love what?" Prue smirks a little at me, and taps her foot on the floor, waiting for me to give her the phone.
I walk off to my room, as I hear Grams say, "Prudence! How are you?"