There are a million stories about a Mercer sister, who is loved unconditionally by her four brothers—I've read them, and by all means enjoy them. But I'm offering something different: a sister who arrived too late…one who is tolerated by the Mercer men, but is excluded and not considered to be a part of the family. Here's her sketch.
Sufferings of a Woman Scorned by Adiemus.
Deirdre pulled the comforter around her body and leaned her warm forehead against the frost-covered windowpane. Her hands were cool and clammy, and she rubbed together fiercely in an attempt to spark warmth between them. Suddenly disheartened, she glanced down at her feet; her socks were mismatched, as were her shoelaces. Various words and pictures etched in pen decorated her converse knock-offs. She inspected her fingernails…clean, neatly trimmed, fiery red. She had the time to maintain their beauty. She had the time to draw on her shoes. She had lots of time on her hands. She had few friends, and her family…well, save for Evelyn Mercer, she had none. Evelyn, of course, would say that this was not so. She would remind Deirdre that she had four brothers. But to Deirdre, family was not just a word, it was a group of people who loved, cared for, and supported each other. And so, Deirdre's only family was Evelyn.
Deirdre reluctantly stood up and pulled a crinkly piece of paper from her wallet. It was yellowish and terribly old, and she had never used it before. On it were two phone numbers—Bobby and Jack's. Bobby's handwriting was large and took up more than his fair share of the small paper, while Jack's was smaller but by far more scribbled. With a sigh, Deirdre grabbed her cell phone out of her backpack and dialed Bobby's number. After what seemed like an eternity, he answered.
"For the love of God, it's three in the--"
Deirdre blocked the rest of it out. He was ranting, and she didn't care to hear what he had to say.
"It's Deirdre," she told him, after he finally stopped talking long enough to ask who was calling.
"Who?" There was no surprise in his voice, only annoyance.
'He thinks I'm one of his one-night stands,' she thought.
"Deirdre." She repeated. She didn't know how to describe herself. 'I'm your sister.' Hell no, she couldn't say that. 'I'm Evelyn's daughter.' No, he wouldn't respond too well to that. 'I'm about to become your unwanted charity case.' No, she would have to explain to him what that meant, and she couldn't fathom talking to him about it over the phone.
It finally hit him. "Jesus. What's wrong? It's Ma, isn't it?"
Deirdre couldn't blame him for jumping to conclusions. After all, she was in a dire situation, and she NEVER called him. Truthfully, she never talked to him, even when he was home.
"Are you out of prison yet?" she asked.
"Yeah. Few weeks ago—"
"Come home. Get in contact with Angel; I don't know how. I'll talk to Jack. Just get here as soon as you can." She hung up before he could yell at her.
"One down………" she murmured to herself as she dialed Jack's number.
"Yeah?" was the only response she received.
"It's Deirdre. I can't talk right now, but you need to come home now. She needs you."
Once more, she hung up.
Deirdre sunk into her chair and pressed her fingers against her temple. Her family was dying. She briefly wondered if more than one person had to make up a family. If she were able to look out for herself, could she be her own family? The thought of total isolation sent pains shooting threw her skull. A rough, gnawing feeling began to grow in the pit of her stomach. Her throat was scorched and then she could feel the vomit rising in the back of her throat, but somehow she fought it down. Grabbing a warm soda—good for fighting a queasy stomach, Evelyn had said—she waited to ignore the frantic phone calls that she assumed she would be getting any minute now. It wasn't until ten minutes later did she remember that neither Bobby nor Jack had her cell number. She supposed they could call Jerry if they wanted it, but why talk to her when they had Jerry?
With great ferocity she snapped the tab on the soda can, and wished she weren't so damn jealous of the Mercer brothers. Like herself, they weren't blood relatives, which comforted her at first. But upon closer examination, she dreaded what she saw. Four brothers, though not bonded together by genes and DNA, were a solid family unit—and had no room for her. She hated them all from the moment she realized she was shut out of their world.
They ignored her in a myriad of ways. The first night Deirdre joined them they all stood around the dinner table and held hands as they said grace. Deirdre often wondered if her life would have been different had she forced them to take her hands at the table that night. 'Probably not,' she told herself. They didn't invite her to hockey games, even when they were a player short. In fact, if that were the case, Bobby would suggest Sofi as a player. Sofi! That was when Deirdre's wish of love from the brothers—any form of love—died.
Hate, she knew, was not the opposite of love—indifference was. When you love a person, you are obsessed with them. You want to know everything about them, you think about them all the time. When you hate a person, you also obsess about them. You want to see them in pain; you fantasize about hurting or killing them. But indifference—when you are indifferent towards a person you don't care whether they're dead or alive
After a while, Deirdre didn't care whether the brothers hated her or loved her. She just wanted them to have some emotion towards her, some opinion of her. But it never happened. After all this time, she was still learning to cope with it.
Ten hours later she awoke to someone shaking her shoulder. It was a doctor and the expression on his face told Deirdre all she needed to know. Evelyn, her only family, was dead. She walked away, only to collide with Bobby, Angel, Jerry, and Jack.
Jerry. Deirdre hated Jerry most of all. He lived nearby, couldn't he have dropped in once in a while? But that part that really got her was the fact that he was a father. For Heaven's sake, didn't he have any compassion? Never in a million years would he wish for his children to be treated the way he treated Deirdre. And yet, he never spoke a kind word to her. She didn't understand why, and as time went on she was learning not to care.
Angel, well, Angel was never home to begin with. He was always out with Sofi until he joined the marines. Out of all four of the brothers, Deirdre had the least contact with Angel.
Jack. He glanced at her, but said nothing. Jack never talked to her. At first he was guilty, and would occasionally nod in her direction or make eye contact, but ruthless teasing from his older siblings eventually made him cold towards her. He was a coward and they both knew it. She could have forgive him if he would just admit it…but he never did, and for that she hated him.
Finally, Bobby…there wasn't much to say about Bobby. He didn't acknowledge Deirdre—she neither pleased nor offended him. He'd had enough of reforming his mother's cases. He always got along with Angel and Jerry, but Jack was a bit of a struggle at first, and after Jack he felt he lacked the time and care to reform another one. Of course, if he would've made any effort to get to know Deirdre, he would have realized that she didn't need reforming. He was the one who started it………boycotting the new girl. Needless to say, it caught on.
And now they stood before her. One by one, walked around her and into Evelyn's room. Deirdre sunk to her knees, blinded by the hot tears that collected in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She knew what she had to do.
A few weeks later, she was in her new apartment when her cell phone rang out.
"Deirdre? It's Bobby."
"Hello," she said smoothly.
"Jackie, he…"
"I heard."
"Come back, Deirdre. Come………home. We never got a chance to…I already lost one brother, I.……." His voice was quiet and she knew he was crying.
"You can't lose what you never had. It's too late Bobby. Goodbye." She heard the sobs now, but hung up the phone regardless.
She lifted her head up and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were clear and her cheeks were dry. She did it. She had become indifferent.
Behind her stood the ghosts of Evelyn and Jack Mercer, crying.
End.
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