LIMINAL || 𝙅𝙖𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧 𝙃𝙖𝙡𝙚 [1]

𝟞 | 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕒𝕟 𝕒𝕤𝕤

Cara was racking up over time hours at the hospital like there was no tomorrow. She'd always been a hard worker, but I couldn't help wondering if she would rather be there than stuck at the house with me. When Dad was put up for his promotion, the possibility of my parents pawning me off onto her was tossed around, but I don't think either of us really imagined it would happen. When the time came, she donned her best Older Daughter Martyr (™) voice and promised it wouldn't be a problem.

Oh you two are moving to Europe? And I have to completely rearrange my life to accommodate this move because that's what is expected of me? Sure, I don't mind at all.

I knew she wasn't happy about it, that much was obvious from her tone of voice and body language whenever it was brought up.. Cara had always been a private person; now I was butting in on her privacy by moving in. She was an incredibly easy read, too. Perhaps it was the fact that she was my sister, or that she had the habit of being blunt. I never had a problem pinpointing her emotions at any given time.

That was why, come Monday morning, I could hardly stay standing when our hands collided as we both loaded the dishwasher after breakfast. I wasn't moving fast enough, a problem Cara had always had with me. I was in the way and her impatience had been particularly acute for the beginning of the week. She slid past me in the tiny space between my body and the counter, meaning to place her cup on the top rack. The touch was small, hardly anything. But the effect it had on me was substantial.

Resentment. Annoyance. Spite.

If Mom could read Cara's mind, I'm sure she'd tell her to, "quit being ugly," a phrase that we'd heard often growing up. All I could do was grip the edge of the sink until the feelings began to fade.

"Would you move?"

And I did. I turned on my heel, grabbed my bookbag, and swiftly walked out of the house in a huff. I imagined Cara staring at my back the entire time and wondering what had set me off. It's complicated, not being able to tell people that you did, in fact, know exactly how they felt because you were feeling it too. I hoped that by the time we saw each other next, we both would have forgotten it completely. I hated confrontation with my family, especially my sister.

The school's senior parking lot was half full when I arrived. I waved hello to Angela on the way to my locker, as she and Eric got as much of their PDA in without attracting teachers. There was only five minutes left for me to get to class, and my lock wasn't working properly. By the time it sprang free, I grabbed my books, and reset the lock, I had to sprint to Mr. Savrda's room. The bell rang just as my butt hit the seat. A few minutes into our lesson, my mind was more consumed with irritation at Cara than math. I knew as well as anyone that just because you felt a certain way didn't mean it was directed at the person you were with at the moment. I couldn't know for sure that her ill feelings were all directed at me, but I wasn't so naive to think they were completely unrelated either. I could very well be making a mountain out of a molehill and projecting my own feelings. Or I could just be a brat, like she often told me when we were younger. It was one of those things we argued about a lot.

My head was too preoccupied to focus on the lesson. Words like polar coordinates and cycloids appeared on my paper, but I had no idea what they meant or what to do with them.

Just try to look busy, hope that he doesn't call on you, and you can go back and study later.

I tried not to think about earlier this morning; I couldn't afford to be unfocused during math after the last quiz grade I'd gotten. Maybe I could organize something fun for us to do together this weekend. Maybe I could switch out of AP Calculus. Maybe I could hop a plane to Paris and force Mom and Dad to let me stay there. Maybe I could hitchhike back to Alabama.