Nowhere In Particular // H.S.

Thirty-Seven: Talk It Out

I don't remember my first memory. It's really just a jumble of moments that are hard to place in chronological order.

I remember Laurel and me being tiny with chunky legs, playing tea party at her grandma's house in the summer. I remember a camping trip where I didn't bathe for nearly a week and my skin was twice as dark as normal because of all the dirt piled on top. My dad dunked me into the lake, laughing as he told a story about mermaids, pretending that I was actually clean afterwards when really it was just enough to get the dirt off temporarily. I remember my mom stuffing me into an ugly velvety dress for Christmas Eve dinner where I complained about how it itched and Pat fed me so many cookies that I threw up on the car ride home.

I can't pin point that first moment though. Where I knew what was going on instead of just stumbling around and drooling like all other kids do. But I can remember my first memory of arguing with Pat.

Pat is a bitter person, always has been and I don't see that changing any time soon... but I like to think that there was a point in time that he was actually excited to have me as a younger sister. Surely he was just like me, feeling like he got a present the day I was born, just like how I felt when Blair came into the world. Even with our constant arguments, the never-ending battle to one up each other, I've always known that he cares. That's just the way we show this to each other I suppose.

Our first argument happened probably right around the same time of whatever my first memory of him was. I'm sure he has memories before this, moments of us getting along or whatever torment he put me through as a child, but arguing and Pat go hand in hand in my brain's recollection of the past.

We handled it differently than we do now, a little more screeching and pushing... but we were tiny children and screaming and throwing yourself on the ground is somehow the logical way to react to situations when you're that young. I don't even remember what we were arguing about, people rarely do. I'm sure it's because even if it feels like a big deal in that moment, later on it doesn't even matter... it's not worth remembering.

Somehow I don't think this will be the case for what Harry's just told me though. It's worth remembering even if down the line it isn't something that "matters."

When Pat and I got into our first argument it felt like my little world was crashing on top of me. I followed Pat around like he was the most important person in the world and when he yelled at me for doing something that probably wasn't even on purpose, I realized we meant different things to each other.

My young mind decided the best way to react to this situation, following my screaming on the ground, was to ignore him for as long as I possibly could. It was a little protest to my older brother, boycotting our friendship. This didn't last long because Pat quickly grew bored of having no one to bug him and soon enough we were back to normal. Normal turned into constant bickering and kicking each other under the table at dinner, but it was still normal.

It was the first time I had this twisted feeling in my gut because I thought the structure of our relationship would forever be altered. Of course that isn't how it works with siblings, in most cases at least. You can argue every day for a week and somehow make it out and be okay with each other.

What's normal for Harry and me is far different than what I've grown used to with Pat. Harry and I don't really argue much to begin with. It's never been a part of relationship up to this point, unlike with my brother where it was almost the foundation. I'm having a hard time deciding how I even feel about all of it to begin with... which only adds to my confusion of Harry and me not being on the same page.

I'm angry with him. We're both plenty aware of this. I may have kissed him. I may have given some indication that this would all work out... but he's not off the hook. He lied. He knew something very important to me and didn't say anything. He turned into yet another secret, another burden, when all I wanted was to escape those things that tied me down.