“What did you say?”
“We are moving to Chester,” Mum repeats again to my little sister, Angela who’s sprung to her feet in utter shock abandoning her current position of sitting down beside to me on the couch. Chewing on my lip anxiously, I look back-and-forth between the two.
“Why!” she stares up at Mum who towers over her fourteen year old build. “What good reason do you have to force us to mo –” Stopping mid-sentence, she freezes briefly before turning to face me, her eyes glaring headedly in outrage. “This is because of you, isn’t it?” she scoffs. “This is ridiculous!” She storms out of the living room.
I watch her retreating back. Believe me I want nothing more than to get over it. Silence falls between mum and I as we both listen to Angela’s heavy footsteps go up the stairs. My gaze falls onto my lap.
“Don’t listen to your sister,” Mum’s voice softens in compassion.
I nod my head but don’t look at her. She sits down beside me and wraps her right arm around my shoulders tightly. I relax into her side and let out a heavy sigh, finding temporarily comfort in her warmth.
“She just doesn’t understand,” she whispers, attempting to make me feel less guilty but it is fruitless.
It’s my fault.
I pick up the white board and black marker pen beside me and write, ‘I’m sorry.’
Passing it over to her, I watch as Mum reads the message. She shakes her head in disagreement, her beautiful brown eyes appear to become glassy and her maroon lips purse.
“Honey, please don’t ever be sorry,” she tightens her grip on me but this time I pull away.
I take the board from her and follow Angela’s suit and walk up the stairs.
Passing Angela’s room, I distinctly hear her mid-conversation talking on phone. “…I’m just so annoyed with her. I don’t know why mum is doing this to me….Easy for you to say. You don’t have a mute for a sister…No I don’t know what happened with her. Nobody tells me anything.”
I pick up the pace to get to my room quicker. Gently shaking my head, I force my eyes to back the tears. I wish for nothing more than to could forget.
When I finally get into my room, I slam the door shut in anger. At myself. At my stupid condition. At him. I throw my board and pen carelessly against the wall and fall backwards onto my bed, grabbing a pillow and muffle my cries into it. This shouldn’t be happening. Mum shouldn’t be making this kind of drastic sacrifices for me. I should be having a better relationship with younger my sister. But I can’t. I cannot do anything to change reality. To change what had happened. If I weren’t too naive and gullible, everything would be okay. I’d be normal.