|Taken in a bathroom after my sister's first runway show.|
My sister's birthday is today. My brother's birthday was yesterday. I spoke to him. As for my sister, I haven't seen or heard from her in six years. No one in the family has.
Six years is a long time to have lost one's original best friend. We had shared hopes and dreams, desires of living out of a difficult circumstance that promised the worst endings for two black girls. We weren't always close knit. We didn't always stick together like glue. Sometimes we fought and challenged and stole from each other.
In good times, we enjoyed our multi-colored Barbie arrangement and spoke way past bedtime with Ma walking past our shared bedroom shouting, "hush!" and "go to bed!" We bonded over Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Mighty Morphin Power Rangers was ours. She was Trini the yellow ranger and I was Kimberly the pink one with a skirt. She hated soap operas, but we could talk about "Passions" for hours.
I remember my sister as a fighter, a courageous, vibrant soul who spoke her mind and challenged anyone contesting against her values. She could tell wonderful stories, rap hardcore verses, sing metaphoric poetry, and draw a great set of hands. Today, my mom has her beautiful collage portrait of Halle Berry hanging in the kitchen.
|My favorite glamour girl.|
|One of many shots taken in our tenure. She was teaching me how to bike in a mild rain sprinkle and caught this whimsical rainbow.|
I heard my sister. I just didn't listen.
Unfortunately, a roll ignited and we ended on uneasy terms. On the morning, after a goodbye hug, she left my friend's house. I felt sadness and regret, especially upon discovering a sweet card she left behind, striking a poignant inner cord. No matter how hurt or angry, a sister's love is a love that is so special that such animosities float away.
We called and texted. Slowly, she drifted towards an unreachable place, deleting all of her social media accounts and email address, disconnecting phone.
I miss her. I miss her a lot.
It's been so hard and brutal without her presence. I yearn to talk to her about hair. About veganism. She doesn't even know that I became a vegan.
Yet there's so much I don't know about her either. Like where she is.
It's a frightening thing not to know. The not knowing eats away at sanity.
Every once in a while, I read one for her emails and fall into solace. She was a Jane of all Trades.
I must reflect on an eerie excerpt from my sister's piece called, "Alice's Sister," from March 13, 2009 (my paternal grandmother's birthday), a supernatural mystery story about an only child borne into privileged superficiality, longing for a sibling. She had wanted to know my thoughts. I thought she was onto something very suspenseful.
"I can show you how I did it, I can teach you how." I heard the smile in her hollow voice.
She knew the last thing I wanted to know was how she did it. I didn't want anything to do with her or the secrets she bought with her.
I couldn't speak. All I could do was shake my head no.
The sound of her approaching footsteps stopped a few feet from me. I stopped shaking for a moment. A gust of air blew past me.
I suddenly felt her skeleton hand on my shoulder.
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
"What are you!" the words came out of me with repulsion.
"I'm your sister Alice."
I shook my head too afraid to verbally challenge her.
"Yes I am." she said with a chuckle.
Tears began to roll madly. Why did this thing choose me to come after?! To torture me for wanting a sister?
"LOOK AT ME!"
As I shook my head no, my vision began to blur with darkness and my neck began to pop.
I knew she was entering me, forcing me to look her direction through mind control.
I tried to fight her. It was like falling in and out of a sleep that became too easy to resist.
"I can't," I cried weakly, hating myself for not having the strength to fight against her.
But of course she had her way. I was turning in my chair fully in her direction. I felt my eyes still tightly closed beginning to pull apart.
I blacked out for a second.....