The Wrong Sister

In the days that followed, the items in Stacey’s house were sold or divided among family members. The house was put on the market, with Marcy managing the sale. I hadn’t realized just how much I had accumulated during the nearly year I had spent with Stacey until, weak and sore, Lisa guided me into the room where most of it had lived. My eyes fell on the rat’s cage. “Burkey boy.” “He missed you.” I shuffled over, carefully lifting the dark rodent with my one good hand, pressing him to my shoulder, and kissing the back of his head. “He’s a big guy,” Lisa said softly, smiling. I nodded, tears streaming. As Lisa reached for Kleenex, Burke began licking them off my cheeks. She laughed. “I guess he beat me to it.” After replacing him in his cage, I stepped back into the hallway and glimpsed the master bedroom, bursting into tears. Lisa placed supportive hands on my shoulders and gently squeezed. “You’re getting a bit bony now.” “I’m down to 109.” “We’ll make sure you don’t lose any more.” I shrugged, muttering under my breath, “I don’t give a shit,” though Lisa likely heard me. Then I turned to her. “You lost weight, too.” “No, I’m the same 135 pounds I usually am.” Surprised since she looked slimmer than 115 to 120, I shifted my arm in the sling instead of a full cast and walked with Lisa down the hallway into the living room, where Noah stood talking to Marcy. Noah looked sad, and Marcy eyed me with what seemed like contempt. I understood; it had nothing to do with Stacey or me, but the fact that I had survived. I probably felt worse about losing Stacey than she did. “When are you heading back down to San Francisco?” Marcy asked Lisa. “As soon as we can gather her things, unless you need me to stick around longer.” Marcy glanced at me, then at her sister, before saying, “I hope you don’t find this rude, but I’d like a private moment with my sister.” “Sure, no problem,” I said, heading down the hallway to collect what I could. “Take it easy and wait for me, so you don’t hurt yourself,” said Lisa. “Okay.” Though several yards away and deaf in one ear, I could hear their conversation clearly. Marcy voiced her concerns, confirming my suspicions—perhaps intentionally so I could hear. “I know this may sound horrible, but seeing her only reminds me of what happened.” “Yeah, but we can’t punish her for surviving. She didn’t ask to live any more than Stacey asked to die.” “Do you think she’ll hurt herself? You don’t really know her that well.” “I certainly don’t know her full story, but enough. She’s agreed to work with a counselor, and I’ll make sure her needs are met.” “Isn’t she only going to be a hardship for you? Feeding, clothing, and housing her while her benefits and insurance expire?” “I can handle it. No one’s forcing her to stay. I promised Stacey I’d take her, but even without that, I want to do this. My place is paid for. Utilities and food won’t be a problem.” “Medical, transportation, attention—don’t you worry about that?” “There are ways around it. She can walk, ride a bike, take a bus, or get a ride if needed. She’s not a child needing constant supervision.” “Plus, the county would help,” Marcy added. “Not ideal. Better options exist if I can provide them.” “That’ll cost a fortune. You’ve got money, but not like Stacey.” “I appreciate your concern, Marcy, but this is our decision.” “Why isn’t she on disability?” “Probably a mix—years worked, marital status, intelligence. Complicated.” “Long-term goals?” “Not thinking that far ahead. One day at a time.” “What if she hurts herself?” “Proper hospital care,” Lisa said, laughing lightly. “Come on, you’re a pediatrician. You deal with plenty of troubled kids who aren’t even yours.” “Bennie and I worry. She has horrible memories, anxiety, and anger issues. Stacey had a way of calming her.” “I know. That’s why she was a psychologist. I may not have a Ph.D., but I can learn some tricks too.” “They’re simple tactics. She’s easy to please and amuse,” Lisa explained. “She can get pretty wild. ADHD maybe. God, she never stops talking.” Lisa laughed. “It gets quiet around here. I could use the chatter.” “She shouldn’t be around other anxious people—they feed off each other.” “Makes sense.” “Worst-case, she can always move out,” Marcy said. “I’d rather not give up, but yes, it’s an option.” A few minutes later, Lisa found me on the bed with Burke. “I would have packed, but I have no boxes.” “Oh, that’s okay. I packed some, but wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable.” “I don’t give a shit,” I muttered. She smiled. “Hang out with your friend, and I’ll get boxes.” “In your truck?” “Yes.” “Not surprised. You seem like a truck person.” She laughed. When she went for the boxes, I overheard Marcy comment, “Still can’t decide if she’s not all there or just a bit weird.” Lisa laughed. “Yeah, she’s quirky.” “That doesn’t bother you?” “No. Eccentric keeps things interesting.” “Opposites attract,” Lisa said. “Where can I grab a few boxes?” “In the guest room,” I said. She returned shortly with a few boxes, rolling her eyes. “Where’s Stacey when you need her to calm her sister down?” “You’re wearing the wrong color for that,” I teased. Purple? “Passion,” I said. “Blue calms.” “Oh,” she said, gathering knick-knacks. “Cute,” she remarked on a small plastic puppy. “No,” I said. She smiled again, unpredictably. “Let me put my ratty in his house, then I’ll help.” “Don’t overdo it. Heal that arm.” “I don’t care if you see what I’ve got. I just hate making you work harder.” “No worries. I see your favorite color is pink,” she noted. “You gather right. Not much green.” “That would make me hungry.” “Restaurants often use green and red decor despite most people preferring blue.” “Wow,” said Marcy, startling me in the doorway. When all was packed, including Burke, Lisa asked, “Do you feel up to the drive tonight, or need another night to rest?” “It’s your call,” I said, trying to keep emotion from my voice. When I looked at Lisa, I saw the emotion in her eyes. “I’m up for the drive if you’re up for the ride. You and your friend,” she said. “Ok. Let’s go form a happy-but-sad little family in your very slanted city,” I said, sarcastic but trying to lighten the mood. She pulled me in for a careful hug, mindful of my injured arm. We said goodbye to the others. “I’m so sorry,” I told Noah. “Good luck in life.” He nodded while Lisa smiled. “You’ll see each other again someday.” Marcy followed us outside. “I hope your arm gets better soon.” “It will. I promise not to hurt myself or cost too much,” I said. Marcy’s face went red, and Lisa froze before bursting into laughter. “You'd better watch what you say from now on, sis.”