Karter

I can almost still hear the screeches that came from my sister when she found my mother blue on the floor. I can almost still feel the frosty fall Augusta atmosphere that would tighten my face when my father was too busy lying in bed or at the bar to pick me up from school. I can almost still taste the burnt toast with butter my sister would make us for each meal because she didn’t know how to make anything else. I will always remember November.

In the Collins household of what is now two, there are eleven months and 30 days. January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, 30 days of ignorance, and December. November is sort of like a dirty word between my sister Margo and I. It’s the month my mother decided to die and my father joined the crazies down at Lakeview Psychiatric Hospital. It’s been five almost six years now. You’d think my sister would be over it.

Since my parents have been gone, Margo has basically become my maternal figure. She cooks, cleans, takes me to school, and basically anything you would expect a mom to do. She couldn’t go to college because of me and I feel kind of bad about that; on the other hand, she’s also my best friend so I’m glad she can’t leave. Margo is the type of person you would call if you needed help cleaning up a dead body (no pun intended since she did clean up my mother’s). She is the most dependable, hilarious, make-the-most-of-every-situation kind of girl. That saying, she also thinks she can make anything better with a game of Scrabble. If I had a bad day...Scrabble. I didn’t get to go out to dinner with my friends because money was tight... Scrabble. Mom and Dad are gone… Scrabble. She thought you could fix everything with a triple letter score or a made up word we would argue over to get points. I’m not saying this is a bad thing; it does take my mind off of whatever may be wrong; but could she just pick a new game? It’s getting a bit old.

She’s the only thing I’ve had for five years. She is my best friend. She would do anything for me just as I would do anything for her. It’s my 16th birthday coming up and all I want is for her to let me go see my Dad. He’s been off limits since he got admitted to the hospital five years ago. Margo says he is dangerous, but he’s my dad and I miss him.

Margo

The morning of November 5, 2011 continues to haunt me. Everytime I step into what used to be my parents’ bathroom, I cringe at the thought of what I found lying on the floor. I grimace at the fact that from that day forward my family would begin to shred into a million tiny pieces that would be too small to ever be put back together. I become angry at the thought of any opportunities that I had of making it in the world being completely washed away from the tidal waves that took my childhood.

It has taken a lot out of me to raise my sister for five years. I was just 15 when it happened. I couldn’t even drive let alone raise my nine year-old sister. I did what I had to do.

Sometimes, it’s hard to remember that Karter was only nine when it happened. She was too young and naive to understand what had been going on. That my mom had chosen to die or that my dad developed Bipolar Disorder and became too dangerous to live with anymore. She doesn’t understand that up until I was 18, I told authorities that we lived with our Aunt up in Portland so we didn’t have to go into foster care. We don’t even have an aunt in Portland. Even now at 15 years old, she still doesn’t seem to get it. I understand. It’s hard to lose two parents in such a short amount of time. Karter has always been one to find the good in everything. She wants to find the good in our dad but the problem is, there isn’t anything. There used to be. (There used to be a lot of good in our family.) But not anymore.

Karter

For the past few weeks, things have been different around the house. Margo has been working late every night and coming home after I have gone to bed. The only time I ever see her now is our daily walks to my school. I’ve tried to ask her about her sudden change in pace, but she always answers with, “it’s okay, I don’t mind staying late,” which is weird because she always used to complain about working. There was always something wrong with the traffic, or the noisy streets, or the broken air conditioner, or her lousy boss who never pays her on time. What is different now? I don’t mind her absence. It just means I don’t have to argue with her about what to watch on TV. I can watch all the McDreamy scenes in Grey's Anatomy that I want.

Margo

Okay, I’ll admit it. I haven’t been staying late to work. I met someone. Well, not so much met, more like reacquainted with. His name is Ryan Turnley. We went to high school together. He was the type of guy who played sports, but never went along with what the other athletic guys would do. He was a good guy. He always made you feel special and safe. He was always there for me when I lost my parents and I really liked him. But I was always too scared to tell him how I felt because like all teenage girls, feelings were overrated. But now, at the wise age of 21, I finally told him. We have been going out almost every night after work. Sometimes it’s dinner, other times it’s a walk downtown. Sometimes, it’s finding a park bench as far away as possible and just talking. Those are my favorite times because I can let everything out. I’m not afraid to hold in anything with Ryan. It’s not like talking to Karter where I try to preserve her innocence and not talk about our parents. I feel free with Ryan. I could spend forever with him. Wow, did I just say that ? I guess I did. Haha. I love Ryan.

Karter

Today marks exactly one month until my sweet 16. One month until I maybe, possibly, hopefully get to see my father. That is if I ever work up the courage to ask my suddenly happy sister.

Keys rattle in the keyhole and the doorknob begins to turn open

“Margo! You’re home! That’s weird!” I said under my breath.

“Yeah, I thought this house needed a little change of pace.” Margo answers with a bit of guilt in her voice.

“Okay cool!” I say. This conversation is already starting off weird. We haven’t really spoken to each other in weeks so… I’m just gonna pop the question. “I’m glad you’re here because I wanted to ask you something. Don’t be mad. Take this with a grain of salt and really think it over.”

Margo narrows her eyebrows and squints her eyes. “What is it? The way you just set up your question doesn’t lead me to believe it’s a good one.”

Inhale...exhale… I close my eyes and count to three in my head. A question like this deserves a lot of preparation. “So you know how my birthday is coming up?”

She nodded her head in agreement.

“I’ve been thinking and I know what I want my present to be”

Margo sighs in relief. “Oh good! I never know what to get you these days. Teenagers are so difficult to shop for.”

“Actually, this gift wouldn’t require any shopping at all!”

“What do you mean?” Margo says with a puzzled look on her face.

Okay here it goes. I can do this. “I want to go and visit Dad.”

There is a long pause of dead silence. This must be what it sounds like in outer space where there is absolutely no one around. The room feels so dead, even a zombie would seem more alive in here.

This isn’t so good. Maybe I should say something. “This dead air between us is a good sign. I-”

“What in God’s green earth are you saying? There is no way that I will ever let you see that man as long as I am living.”

“But Margo,” I try to keep my cool, “This is the only thing I want. It won’t cost you a penny. You don’t even have to come! All I’m asking for is 5 minutes. 5 minutes to look into his eyes and hopefully find some closure.”

“Karter, I said no and that is my final answer. Don’t ever ask me again! Do you understand?”

Tears are drowning my eyes as I try to hold them in so that Margo doesn’t see how devastated I am. I can’t stay here any longer.

Margo

The next thing I knew Karter was running into her room and slamming the door. I know I had been maybe a bit too harsh, but I am just trying to protect her-- that became my job the moment our parents were gone.

She didn’t come out of her room for two whole days. I tried everything to will her out of there. I even went and bought her favorite food, doughnuts. I guess she had been living off of peanut butter and Life cereal that the leaves in her room in case she wants a midnight snack. I wouldn’t know though because she kept her door locked. The only reason I know she is still alive is the sound of her Tv through our thin white walls.

I don’t regret my decision at all though.

“Karter!, It’s Monday. I have to go to work and you have school. I’m leaving now. If I get a call from your school saying you didn’t show up, I am going to be very angry.”

I grab my bag and walk out the door.

Karter

She thinks she can just tell me what I can and cannot do like that! She is not my mom! I’ve been plotting all weekend how I can get my revenge. Well, not so much revenge as really my way. I’ve been plotting how I can go see my dad. The school takes attendance in second period. That means, I go to school for first and second period, sneak out before third, walk to the bus stop on Danby and Third, hitch a ride to the hospital, visit my dad, leave before 2:30, get back on the bus, ride the bus back to Danby and Third, walk back to the school where Margo picks me up and bam! The deed is done. Easy enough right?

By the middle of second period my heart begins to race and my legs pulse up and down uncontrollably. I can’t focus on anything but the minute hand ticking on the old clock on the wall. Today was the day I have been waiting for for five years! As the teacher’s voice becomes a distant mumble and the seconds turn into minutes, the bell finally rings. I promptly pick up my bags and head to the door ever so confidently so that nobody would suspect a thing. It was actually much easier than I had anticipated because I had forgotten that juniors and seniors could have third period off and I just walked out with them.

The trek to the bus stop was longer than I had initially expected, but I was still able to catch the 11:00 bus… barely. The thirty minute bus ride was the longest half hour I had ever experienced in my almost 16 years of living. I was so eager to finally see my father again! What would I say to him? How should I enter the room? It would just come natural I thought.

When the bus came to a stop at the hospital, I ran faster than the speed of sound into the building. I signed in and made my way into the commons where they said my dad had been for the past two hours. As I opened the door, my eyes were immediately drawn towards a short but bulky man with shaved brown hair. I walk closer and closer until I am able to reach out and touch his shoulder. “Hi Daddy! I missed you!”

It took him awhile to turn around to see my face. When he did he just sat there in his chair and stared at me. It was a blank stare as if he wasn’t looking at me but rater looking through me. I touch his shoulder again as I used to do every morning when I walked down the stairs after I woke up. He swipes his hand across mine to throw my arms off of his shoulder and across by body like a slingshot.

“Get out of here!” he screams so loud that I was afraid my sister would hear it from all the way across town.

My eyes swell with tears both from the dislocation of my shoulder from my father shoving my arm and the four words I had never anticipated to hear my father say to me in a million years.

“Daddy, It me Karter! I’m your daughter remember?” I say trying to keep my voice from quivering.

“I said GET OUT!” My father stands up from his chair, throws everything from the side table next to him onto the floor and raises his fist in the air as he lunges towards me. That’s all I remember.

Margo

Looking down at my little sister with a swollen purple eye, her arm in a sling, and a bruised neck, I can’t help but shed a tear. I would like to make this one of those “I told you so” moments but I feel like Karter’s been through enough for one day. This is the exact reason why I didn’t want  Karter to go see our father. He had been violent towards me a few times when I was younger and I didn’t want that to happen to the only person I had left.

As Karter begins to wake up I make my way into the hospital bed with her and just lay there. I want her to know that I am there for her. As soon as she is able to make out what is going on around her, she turns her swollen neck to face me and says, “ I’m sorry for not listening to you. You always try to do what’s best for me. I love you. You’re a great sister!”  Hearing those words made me realize that I haven’t been there for Karter as much as I should. I have been to preoccupied with Ryan and my job to truly understand the hurt that my sister was feeling. I should have been there. I should have known this kind of thing would have happened. As I lie there searching for a response to Karter’s wholehearted words, the only thing I can think to say is, “I love you more.”