still friends

Chapter 6: Grief

"Rebecca, I told you not to follow the boys and what do you do? What have I told you about your listening skills? Or lack thereof?"

She had just wanted to show how she was just as good as the boys. Bucky knew so, she'd told him. But his kid sister was just a kid, and even though she'd been a foot shorter than him, he'd always felt like the younger sibling. Rebecca had always one-up'd him, expect in this case.

Their mom had been less than pleased, scolding her daughter rather than comforting her as they stood on the stoop of their Brooklyn home, clutching her sprained wrist. She'd been crying, her bottom lip wobbly, and Bucky had stood watching, waiting.

After the scolding, Rebecca had ran into his arm, sniffling loudly.

"I told you so." He chastised, but lightly. He didn't want her to feel worse; he didn't want to sound like their mom. "Come on, I'll bandage you up."

When they got older, Rebecca had a few run-ins with less-than-manly men. When she showed up later than her curfew one night and a purple hickey on her neck, their mother yanked on her hair, exposing her neck before dragging her to the bathroom.

"I cannot believe you prance around these god-damn streets like a common whore." She was still drunk from dinner, and Bucky kept his bedroom door open, sitting up so he could watch them.

"I didn't mean to." Rebecca cried as their mother began viciously scrubbing at her neck, as if that would make it disappear.

"Just like your father, making every excuse in the book."

When he'd been woken up at nearly four in the morning, Bucky knew it was all crumbling down.

"I'm going to keep it, J." Rebecca had whispered, her fingers shaking. He held her hands, but he was just as afraid. "you should meet him, his name is Hoyt and oh, he's so sweet. He wants the baby too."

"What about mom?" Bucky asked, squeezing her hands. "I'm gonna be leaving soon, near weeks now. I won't...be around to make sure..."

He couldn't finish the sentence.

Rebecca had soft eyes, and she gave him a winning smile. "We're gettin' married. Next week. I'm leavin' tonight, were goin' to the courthouse." She squeezed his hand, her nails digging in. "come with us."

Bucky had felt sick, his head swimming.

He wished he'd gone with her.

Dearest J,

I'm a married woman! Hoyt got me the prettiest ring, its oval shaped, not that ugly square like grandma. It's the loveliest thing I own. I'll show you when you visit. How's the weather over there? Steve told me you've written to him too, I'm glad y'all kept in touch. He misses you, but I think he misses the war more, and feels bad that he ain't fighting. But really, what can little sticks do? I'm just teasing. Hope you're well, your nephew is about ready to be born. He can't wait to meet you.

Love,
RBC

He'd written her back, the hot weather scalding him as he knelt over the envelope. It had taken nearly three weeks for his letter to arrive, and another three for him to get hers.

J,

Mom insists on coming to the birth, which will be any day now. I wish you could instead, but I guess we all gotta forgive at some point. Aunt Ida is gonna come too, to ease the tension.

I miss you. Come back soon.

Yours,
RBC

Bucky had been happy that his sister and mother were reconciling, his body full of relief. As he'd read the letter, he could nearly smell his sister perfume. The fact that she was about to become a mother was mind blowing, it seemed like the functioning family she'd always wanted was coming together.