Interim(20)

“Oh my God, you’re right,” she whispered to Caroline. “I do get it from Mom.”

“Don’t worry. It’s better to be aggressive anyway,” Caroline replied.

“How so?”

“Aggressive people get what they want,” Caroline explained.

Regan’s eyebrows shot up a second time.

“Well, they do,” Caroline insisted, noting her sister’s expression. “They get picked first for basketball.”

Regan sighed and conceded her sister’s point. “They get picked first for everything. It’s obnoxious.”

Silence fell as Regan continued brushing Caroline’s hair.

“You can come in my room whenever you want,” Caroline said after a moment. “You don’t need permission.”

“Huh?”

“I just mean that I don’t care if you walk in without me saying you can.”

Regan considered this. “No.”

“No?”

Regan shook her head.

“Why not?”

“Boundaries.”

“Boundaries,” Caroline echoed.

“I know I’m your sister, so our relationship is different. Special. But we still need boundaries, Caroline. It wouldn’t be right for me to walk in without permission.”

“But I’m telling you it’s okay.”

“Nope. You can’t put a blanketed statement on all my future visits to your room.”

“Huh?”

“I need permission each time.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the right thing. What isn’t right is barging into someone’s personal space uninvited. You may decide one day that you need alone time, and then what would happen if I walked right in? Like I owned your room? That’s not very fair, is it?”

Caroline frowned. “I guess not.”

“We always need to respect each other’s spaces. That comes first. Always. It keeps people from getting their feelings hurt. Or getting angry. Or feeling like someone did something to them that was unethical.”

“Unethical?”

“Immoral.”

“Huh?”

Regan smiled. “Wrong.”

“Ohhhhh.”

The girls were quiet for a moment.

“Hey,” Regan said suddenly. “Listen up.”

“Yeah?”

“You can be good at whatever you want. Don’t say you’ll never be good at basketball. If you want to play, train. Practice all the time. You can master whatever you want.”

“But I don’t care about basketball,” Caroline replied.

“Oh.”

“I just care about people making me feel badly for not caring about basketball.”

Regan smiled. “Oh.”

Silence.

“Why did you stop brushing my hair?” Caroline asked.

“Oh, whoops. Sorry,” Regan replied, and went back to work.





~

I think my entire life would be different if I had a sibling—someone to watch out for me, someone to watch out for. I imagine we’d be tight . . . I even see us sharing a room. Whispering conversations in the darkness of the night. Making fun of our dad behind his back. Sharing our secrets and knowing they’re actually safe. I imagine it’s a different kind of connection than the ones you have with your friends. Well, if you have friends. It has to be different. It’s a blood connection, and blood is the strongest adhesive on the planet. It bonds instantly and permanently. It’s worth defending. And life is always a little more meaningful when you have someone to defend besides yourself.

~





He stared at his unconscious father. Blood oozed like thick strawberry syrup from a cut near his left eye, and Jeremy wondered if it would heal into a scar mirroring his own. Eye for an eye, he thought, half amused.

His father wouldn’t listen. Didn’t Jeremy warn him? Didn’t he say never to touch him again? Yet, the alcohol swelled his father’s muscles, transforming him into Mr. Hyde, and he was powerless against the rage. He demanded combat to alleviate the aggression, and so he flew into Jeremy’s room that morning looking for a familiar foe. Unfortunately, Mr. Stahl didn’t count on coming face-to-face with Jeremy’s baseball bat. There was no fight. Just one swing. Mr. Stahl lay curled in the corner of the room, still and quiet.