I have to start with Alicia, obviously. What are your characters' relationships with their siblings like?
Alicia adores her little brother and would literally give her right hand, or possibly her entire life, for his sake. So yeah. In response, he basically sees her as an angel (a little irrationally) and refuses to consider her anything less than a perfect and sweet big sister. But to be fair, he has no idea JUST how many lies she's told to try to keep him emotionally safe. The ones he knows about are really hard to swallow, but he still chooses to adore her.
“Are you crying?” Drew’s voice asks softly like it’s leading me by the hand out of that dark maze of memory.
“Yes.”
“Please don’t…” he whispers, his voice aching with sympathy.
Don’t cry for me, Drew…
I’ll pretend I’m okay if you can just…
“I won’t anymore,” I promise, drying my eyes on the sleeve of my pajama shirt.
I want to say something encouraging, but the affection is drowned out by bitter memories.
I can’t keep my voice steady or keep my thoughts to myself.
The words come out like a sob - like a shot of venom - “I just didn’t want to pull a ‘mom’…”
It hangs in the air for an infinite millisecond.
“I never would have thought that. It would have been nice to know…Alicia. I don’t want to have to…”
“I’ll do better.”
Twice in one day.
I guess I have a lot to fix - to get together.
“I’ll be a better big sister.”
“You’re a perfect sister,” he says stubbornly, and I shake my head on my end of the line, but I can’t find the voice to argue my own fallibility with him.
Essence is also an older sister, but her relationship with her younger sister isn't great. Beth is supposed to be helping Essence care for their mother, but she constantly just leaves Essence to do all the work. Essence is too worn out to be angry though, and she just tolerates it.
“Hi Ma,” I say as enthusiastically as I can, “What’s-?”
“I text messaged you the shopping list, Essie,” she interrupts. “Make sure you get the right ice cream this time. It’s the one without the chips in the chocolate in the quart sized container. I don’t like the way the frozen chips feel against my dentures.”
Mhm.
I raise my eyebrows like that could help me hear better, and the migraine ebbs.
I need to sleep.
I probably shouldn’t be driving.
When she’s done, I breathe slowly, trying to keep my voice calm and even, “Beth was supposed to be doing the shopping this week, Ma. I’m scheduled for next week-”
“That girl’s not picking up her phone again,” Mom interjects for the second time. I hear her frowning. “I can’t be waiting around for food and soap until she decides to answer my calls. The house is in shambles, and my scalp is driving me crazy.”
“Alright. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I nod, though she can’t see me, and hang up without waiting for a reply, because I know she’s not going to thank me.
The second the call is over, I put my face back on the steering wheel and try to let the coolness ease the ache.
I can do this.
Mom needs food. And someone to help her comb and braid her hair.
I’m gonna move.