Sweat beads were forming on my forehead when I pulled up to my two-story house on the other side of the lake. I didn’t bother using the air-conditioner because I wanted to feel the heat. I had to feel something after the mind-numbing experience I just had. I cranked my Faith Hill cd up as loud as it could go, trying to forget it all, but each mile just turned me more and more into a raving lunatic.
Locking my car, I walked up my concrete steps to my front door, silently cursing my need to trust. Trust was never a word to be used so freely again. Walking through the sunlit front hall, I noticed my older sister’s overnight bag on the front stairs. I dropped my purse and backpack on the tile floor with a loud thud, and headed towards the kitchen. My 10-year-old brother Jeremy passed me as I entered it with a large glass of milk in his hands. My eyes narrowed simply because he was a “guy” and turning around, I noticed Kara and my little brother at the kitchen table doing his second grade homework.
“Brian,” I muttered, causing the two to glance in my direction. He furrowed his eyebrows, and cocked his head.
“Are you going to yell at me? Cause you have those two wrinkles in the middle of your forehead, and—“
“No, Brian, I am not going to yell at you,” I uttered, smoothing out my shirt to try to control myself, “I’m just going to give you some sisterly advice.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Uh oh,” he said and grimaced.
“When you meet a girl…” I started, taking a deep breath, “never EVER tell her you want to kiss her when it’s not true, you got me? Because I can tell you right now that if I ever find out that this happens, I will find you. I will beat you to a pulp for the women of America, and just because you are the only guy besides Jeremy that I can legally do it to. Do you understand me?”
Brian simply stared at me. “But girls are disgusting,” he retorted.
I gritted my teeth. “Well, I guess it’s better than the typical hormone driven answer that I’m used to,” I said, walking around to the kitchen cupboards and taking various items out to make dinner with.
As I was slamming down glassware and stove pots, I could feel my sisters eyes on me. What was she doing home from college anyway?
“Hey Bri, go upstairs and finish your multiplication tables, okay? I’ll be up in awhile,” Kara said, pushing back her chair. Brian grabbed his books and practically ran out of the room. “No Nintendo!” she yelled out to him, and pulled out a barstool next to the sink. I heard a muffled “oh man!” and then a door shut overhead.
I turned my eyes back to my sister. I knew what she was thinking.
“No, it’s not PMS,” I told her, making her laugh.
“Yes, dear, I do think I know you well enough to know that specific fact,” she answered back, leaning forward in her chair, “now are you going to tell me about this little escapade or do I have to read it in your diary later on?”
“I don’t have a diary.”
“You’re weird, every teenage girl has a diary.”
I rolled my eyes. “You didn’t.”
She shrugged. “Didn’t say I was normal though, did I? Now out with it before I become disinterested. Besides, it helps if you spill it, believe me.”
I threw the potato I was peeling against the aluminum pan. “Oh, it’s nothing really. Just the usual stuff. Girl meets guy. Guy’s really fine, gets all the girls. Girl’s a loser, has few friends. Guy thinks it’s funny if he pretends to like loser girl, and girl gets her heart broken. Nice story, aint it?” I ended, leaning back against the countertop. I felt defeated. How could one, single guy in one day cause so much stress?
My sister was busy doing that whole staring thing again. It’s like my whole life was written across my face. I guess that’s what happens when you know someone so well.
She leaned back into her chair again and nodded. “This is big, Al, you rarely seem to take an interest in guys. How long have you known him?”
I sighed. “A day.”
Kara raised her eyebrows. “All of that drama happened in one day? Wow, wish I had your life.”
“Kara, come on, this is not a very good day for me, okay? Just give me the usual “everything is going to be okay” speech, and I’ll go back to being pissed.”
A look of concern crossed her face. “Okay, I’ve never seen you like this. Tell me the details.”
I looked down at the textured countertop and bit my lip. “His name is Taylor…he was new at the school today, and dad made me show him to his locker. We had a miniature fight, and I didn’t see him again till I got out of my classes…”
“Wait, wait, what was the fight about?” my sister asked.
I shrugged. “He called dad a name or something, it’s not important.”
Kara grinned. “Wow, he’s a winner.”
I rolled my eyes and told her the rest of my embarrassing story…up to the point where I went to return his wallet.
“Kara, his mom answered the door! He told me that she worked until four. I figured something just came up until I walked up the stairs and heard Taylor and his brother fighting, and screaming at each other…and being the nosy person that I am, I listened to their conversation. Good thing too…” I muttered, clenching my teeth, “cause I would have never known that his desire to kiss me was just a stupid bet. Can you believe that?”
Kara’s eyes were wide open in disbelief. “A bet between Taylor and who?” she asked me.
I sighed. “Remember in 9th grade, I had this crush on that guy Ryan Park?”
She nodded, light dawning in her eyes.
“Him,” I retorted, “I have no idea why he wants to do this to me, I mean, I haven’t really had an actual conversation with the pig.”
I heard my sister sigh. ”Great,” I thought, ”here comes the pity party.”
“Alex, you just have to forget about all of this, okay? Just forget that Taylor ever met you. He doesn’t deserve to have met you at all. Believe me, it’ll all be okay,” she promised, rubbing my arm.
I stared at her. Was this my sister? Or was she just losing her mind.
“Okay, Kara, I do believe it was you who punched Bobby Sherman in the face and broke his nose in the 10th grade because he dumped you for the head cheerleader,” I told her, looking at here strangely, “forget about him? Think again, I’m getting even!” I pushed myself away from the kitchen counter and crossed the room to the phone. Picking it up, I punched the first two digits in but was stopped by Kara’s hand on my arm.
“What are you doing?” she asked me squarely.
“Calling Shannon…she’ll help me with a plan. She knows guys better than I do…” I said, and turned to the phone.
“Al, don’t, okay? This isn’t the way to handle it. I was wrong to punch Bobby in the nose, and you know it. I’ve learned from that mistake, and I never will do it again. Revenge isn’t the answer.”
I slammed the phone down in its receiver and turned towards her. “Then what is the answer,” I asked her, hands on my hips. I was beyond mad…I was hurt. And my sister knew it.
She looked me in the eye. “What is it that mom had always taught us?” she asked softly.
A wave of pain washed over me, starting in my chest and ending in my toes. The feeling often occurred when that name was mentioned. Sometimes I never wanted to hear it at all.
“I don’t know,” I murmured, walking over to the bar and sitting down on a stool, my back to her, “you knew mom better than I did, why don’t you tell me.”
I could feel her eyes piercing into her back. “That’s not true, and you know it Alex. We each had a special relationship with her.”
I rotated in my chair. “I wasn’t referring to that. I was referring to the fact that I was only 10 when she died, and I can hardly remember her at all. How the hell am I supposed to know what she taught me?”
Kara was silent. She was only 3 years older than me, but I have always been jealous of the fact that she still remembers mom’s face…her words. She has a memory of my mom that I have always wanted to have. For years, I have looked at old photos, read my mom’s award-winning books just to remember one ounce of who she was.
And I could only come up with one conversation with my mother. I was nine, or so I’m told. We were sitting on the swings in my backyard, and I was doing what any other nine year old would be doing…asking as many “why” questions as I could muster. I remembered asking why daddy loved to cut the grass, why the sun went down at night. But the only question that I really remembered the answer to was why my mom loved strawberries. Her answer was simple: “because they taste like kisses.”
Kara was still looking at me. I hated her stare, hated the way she knew what I was feeling. But I didn’t hate my sister for knowing my mom so well. I just wanted to feel the same.
“What did she teach us? You know that already kid. I see it in you everyday, how nice and caring you are to everyone. How forgiving you are. If she were here right now, she would tell you the same thing I am. Just forgive and forget. Or…if you can’t forget, then just try not to let it bother you,” Kara ended, wrapping her arms around herself.
“It is going to bother me,” I responded, playing with some bread crumbs on the bar, “I’m going to see them everyday, silently laughing at my stupidity.”
Kara sighed. “You’re right Al, it’s not going to go away just because you will it to. You just can’t drop to their level, you know? Know about it, but don’t let them know. Don’t let Taylor kiss you. Don’t let them win, and don’t let yourself lose, but don’t do it in a way that anyone is going to get hurt.”
I looked at her. She was right. The only way to go about this is to be mature about it. Don’t let them –him- know that I’m hurt. Act like nothing is wrong. But what about the other problem?
“But what if I do want him to kiss me?” I asked my sister, smiling sheepishly.
Kara laughed out loud. “Is he that hot?”
I couldn’t answer, I only nodded. There was no way to express to her his beauty. It was as if he stepped out of a GQ magazine…
“Well, I know it’s going to be hard, but don’t look into his eyes. Guy’s eyes are so appealing. If you do that, you will kiss him. Believe me…” she added, rolling her eyes.
I laughed. His eyes…they were blue. Intoxicatingly blue that is. One even had a hint of green in the upper corner…
“Don’t even think about his eyes either,” Kara said, hands on hips, watching me, “that will get you into even more trouble darlin.”
I smiled. Ooops.
