American Vacanza

two different things go over the edge • madison

As the — supposedly — mature big sister, I was good at bottling up my feelings for the greater good. But once we stepped through the door frame after going shopping, I collapsed on the plush bed in a crying, watery heap. It was like all the joy, all the happiness I'd felt when we were out painting the town had been immediately sucked out of me as soon as we came back.

And it was a damn shame, too, because this hotel was supposed to be pure fun. At least, according to Yelp.

The worst part was, I didn't even know what I was sad about. But something was wrong, something I couldn't pick out but could just feel, and it was burning a hole in my heart whenever I focused on it too long.

Siena rushed to my side, trying to comfort me instantly after the colapse; I told her to go away, but she wouldn't listen.  "Seriously. Tell me what's wrong," she said, her cold petite hand resting on the small of my back.

Siena and I hadn't been fighting for a day, which felt like years; I hadn't called her a brat, she hadn't called me emo, I hadn't called her mom a gold digger, she hadn't called my dad neglectful. We had been too preoccupied with Ethan and shopping and... getting to know each other, I guessed, to actually have time for fighting. If I lashed out at her now, we might fall back into our old ways; it was kind of refreshing, to for once not have to worry about her.

While all these thoughts were running through my head like Usain Bolt, I was still sobbing, and Siena was still attempting, somewhat terribly, to comfort me. I at least owed her an explanation.

Even if I myself couldn't pinpoint the exact reason I was sobbing so hard, maybe letting it all out would enlighten the both of us.

"My mom," I began, my voice cracking in between words, "took me to Chicago when I was nine years old. I thought it was the best thing in the world back then. You know, she died when four years ago, when I was thirteen, and I thought that coming here would give me some sort of closure, but instead... I don't know if it's why I'm sad, or Ethan, or what, but thinking about her's  just making it worse.

"Like, since then, I've gotten used to doing so many things without her, you know? But I haven't come back here in eight years, and I can't stop thinking about her. That weird Sixteen store that sold all those odds and ends? She would have loved it."

My spine straightened on instinct, andn I sat up to face Siena. Her small, innocent face stared back up at me, blinking. I shouldn't expect her to understand any of this. She's lived happily in the suburbs forever, never having to deal with anything this heavy.

I appreciated the effort, obviously- but there wasn't much she knew to do. Finally, a tear streaming from her girlish face, she leaned in for a long hug. The kind of hug that's not just a hug, but an affirmation. I could tell that she didn't know what to say, which was fine, because I didn't know how to feel.

"I, uh, I can't even imagine what it's like to lose a parent. And I feel like... like a dick, for using that against you. It's such a low move." She sniffled. "If it makes you feel any better, my parents got a divorce two years ago and I've barely seen my dad since?" I could tell she was trying really hard. Trying.

"Of course it doesn't make me feel better!" I half-laughed-half-sobbed. "That's terrible!

She laughed, even though she had those sad, puppylike eyes that made you want to reach out and give her a hug.  It wasn't fair. Why should her parents just get a divorce, but one of mine had to go die? Why didn't my dad respect that enough? Why did he remarry so fast? Had he forgotten my and Isaac's mom that fast? And how? In the four years since she lost her battle to cancer, she was always present in some part of my mind. How did my dad let her slip his mind so fast?