there isn't much to do in a town where there is less than 3,000 people. you go out, eat at the bakery, go to the plaza. go to school. there isn't much to do. but if something happens, if an event different from daily life happens, everybody finds out.
either someone tells you, or you hear it from the old men sitting on the booth behind yours at the diner, or something. you just know.
so when my sister almost died from a cocaine overdose, it followed me around everywhere. because there isn't much to do in a town where there is less than 3,000 people. so they gossip to compensate for the things they cannot do.
i heard it from mason first. of course i knew already, but when i heard it from him, i knew that it was really out there.
he called me at 6:00 am.
"jesus, mase. what's with you? it's 6:00 am."
"nova?"
"yeah?" i was confused. the thought of him knowing wasn't even out there for me.
"is she okay?" during that time, mason had the biggest crush on my sister. i wouldn't blame him. she was dreamy. she could be everything.
i didn't register what he was saying. i couldn't. i hadn't even processed the whole idea yet. your sister almost died of an overdose. now work with it. it wasn't easy.
"who is okay? mason, what are you talking about?" i remember rubbing my eyes, repeatedly. in that moment i wouldn't have thought that this would follow me for so long. i didn't think of the repercussions of my sister's actions.
"for god's sake, nova. your sister." he sounded exasperated with me. but that was normal. "is she okay?"
and that was the start of an infinite amount of questions i was never willing to answer, but i always did. people wanted to know, and my parents wanted me to tell.
by then, i was a way more emotional person. and i expected people to care about what i had to say, so when he asked me that, 14-year-old me felt that pang in her chest 14-year-old girls get. that pang of need of attention.
"yeah, she's fine." i wanted to cry, but i never got around to it.
he sighed. "good." and then he was silent. i remember wanting to hang up. i remember thinking he had hung up. but then i heard the question i wanted to be asked.
"are you okay?"
i don't remember what i said, but the question felt like a big deal.
two years later, everything had changed. even though my sister was alive, she was still as careless; that hadn't changed.
mason wasn't in love with her anymore, though. i don't think he ever was, just like she never cared, even when she acted like she did. my parents were out of the question and i had nothing to do but just deal. deal with the fact that i was sixteen and i was alone at home, listening to my sister's drug-induced laughter. i was alone in my room that was spotless and perfect. and i wore clothes without a stain on them.
i was fine before my sister almost died. my parents were still shitty, but they were fine. mason was fine and now he'd gotten sucked into this mess of my life.
"nova." i heard someone say behind my door.
"yes?" i said, my voice was polite, just like i'd always been taught to be. "come in."
my mother came through the door. she had darkness under her eyes, inside them too. "why don't you take a walk, corazón?"
"but, mamá, i'm studying." i was lying of course, but i knew why she wanted me out of the house. i was just looking for an excuse.
"you can study later." there was a smile on her face, but her voice was stern and her eyes were desperate. i would've confronted her, i would've told her that this was my room, that i lived in this house too, and that i demanded her to respect me enough not to bring her lover into the house. or at least when i was around.
correction-- i should've. but i didn't. instead, i closed the book that i wasn't reading and stood up.
"of course. i'm sorry, mamá, for going against you." i said as i walked to the door where she was standing. she was wearing a sad smile, like she was tired or something. it made me curious, but i said nothing.
"good girl," she whispered. "such a good girl." and she kissed my forehead, she smelled a little bit like wine, and her clothes smelled like cigarettes. i held my breath as she held me.
good girl.
i grabbed my jacket on the way to the door, so i wouldn't get cold.
such a good girl.
i grabbed my journal from an old drawer that nobody used, with it a blue pen.
good girl. was that all i was? was i not a person? when did i lose all my freedom?
it felt like words were falling off me. like if i didn't write them, they would just vanish, so i ran. i ran from the plastic smell of my house to somewhere real. i ran until i felt like that house was so far that i felt like was a person again. and i wrote. i wrote and wrote and wrote until my hand quivered.
and then i felt a hand on my shoulder.
☾✺ ☾
