Storms 01 - Family Storms

mirror.”
    “Mirror?”
    “Yes, a mirror in which I see myself differently. I see what I’ve become to the people I love, how much I’ve hurt my parents.”
    She took a deep breath and looked at me silently for a long moment.
    “I hated you the first day my mother brought you here.I wanted to hate you forever, but my therapist pointed out that I was doing that to make myself feel better. If I could hate you, I could live with what I did much more easily, but hate doesn’t ease the pain or stop the nightmares, and you’ve been … been far nicer to me than I would have ever been to you if the situation was reversed. In fact, I’ve tried hard to get you to hate me even more.”
    “That’s true,” I said. She wiped away some more tears and smiled.
    “When my mother put you in Alena’s room and gave you Alena’s things, I really hated you, but you’ve never taken advantage of it. I complained. Oh, I complained to both my mother and my father, but I saw it only brought more pain to them, so I stopped complaining. When I did that and when I talked about you with my therapist, I realized I was trying to hate you for being so much like Alena.”
    “Why would you hate me for that? Didn’t you like your sister?”
    “Of course I liked her. I loved her.” She looked away and then turned back. “I wanted to be more like her, wanted to have my parents believe that and see that, but I couldn’t, and then you came, and you could. My therapist made me realize all this.”
    “I’m not trying to be like anyone,” I said.
    “You don’t have to try. You just are.” She sighed, lifting and dropping her shoulders. “My mother doesn’t know how close Alena and I really were. There were many, many nights when I went to her when she was sad and when she came to me. I hated that she got so sick. I hated everyone who was healthy. I even hated my parents for not givingher healthy genes, and I especially hated the world and God. Yes, I wasn’t there as I should have been when she was dying. I couldn’t face it. I wasn’t strong enough.
    “Maybe you can’t believe this, but I was looking forward to being her older sister, to guiding her through the dangerous channels we all pass through as girls. I wanted to be there for her when she had her first boyfriend. I hated being left an only child. I hate it now. Everything I’ve done to displease my parents was done in anger.
    “So,” she concluded, “I have the nightmares.”
    “I’m sorry,” I said. I really did feel sorry for her now. “But what can I do?”
    “You can help me,” she said quickly.
    “Me? How could I help you?”
    “You’re just about Alena’s age, what she would have been now. Maybe you’ll let me be your older sister.”
    “Sister?”
    “I’m not saying I won’t still suffer. I can’t ignore what I’ve done. Your limping about is clearly in my face every day, no matter what I do to forget, but as my therapist says, maybe it’s better to confront what I’ve done and not try to ignore it.”
    “I’m not sure I know what to do,” I said.
    “You don’t do anything, silly. I do it all. You’re being kept like a prisoner here, and it’s all my fault. You should enjoy being a teenager, too. I’ll take you to places, to the malls, movies, parties.”
    “Parties?”
    “I want all my friends to know you are part of my family now. I’ll admit I have a selfish motive. I want to stop feelingterrible and having these nightmares, and I want people who think I’m so terrible to see me as a better person. If you’re with me, they will. Well?” she asked when I said nothing.
    Maybe I was very much like Alena. Maybe I was incapable of hate and being mean, and maybe my being with Kiera would change her. I tried to think of it as a selfish thing, too. I would enjoy living there more if we weren’t at each other’s throats.
    “It’s all right with me,” I said.
    She smiled and reached out for my hands. “Let’s make a pact, then,” she said. “Let’s swear that we’ll try to be like sisters.”
    “Okay,” I said.
    She squeezed my hands gently, and then she let them go and fell back to her pillow. “Do me a favor,” she said.
    “What?”
    “Just return to your room and play the clarinet for a while. Will you?”
    “Play my clarinet?”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay.”
    “Thank you. It will put me to sleep, a good sleep,” she said, and closed her eyes.
    I stared at her a moment, and then I left, feeling as though I was