Life after NaNo
The weekends spent at Aunt Carmela’s house were never perfect, but they were better than the ones spent with Hannah as a babysitter at home, when our aunt couldn’t watch us. Because of her work, every once in a while there were weekends that she could not spare. So, it was Hannah’s burden as the oldest to sacrifice her weekend to us, while Mom was out. I hadn’t ever minded it much, until recently. Hannah seemed so much older than us now, or that she was least trying to be, and it only got worse as time went on.
“Make sure everyone does their homework, and dinner is in the fridge.”
“I know, Mom.”
“Thanks for doing this, mi chiquitína.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll try to be home tonight but, if not, make sure everyone gets to bed on time.”
“I know.”
Mom left earlier than usual, leaving us alone a few hours after lunch. The sun was still high in the sky but we couldn’t leave home to go out and play, when Hannah babysat. On top of that, the only friend who was allowed to come over in the meantime was Hannah’s friend, Denni. Those were the rules, set in stone.
And Denni did come over, not even an hour after Mom had left. Until she showed up, Hannah sat quietly in the living room by herself. Paula and Julia were playing in the back bedroom, and I was at the kitchen table with my papers and books, leaving Hannah in the warm silence of the living room. I could peek into the livingroom and see her, if I leaned forward at the table and peered discretely through the passageway between the two rooms. She sat and stared forward, silently, as if she was watching TV. When I leaned further and stretched my neck however, I could see the screen, and it was shut off. She almost seemed empty, like a powered-down robot, but I knew she was thinking. She had to be. Hannah was always thinking.
The knock on the front door switched her on, sending a current of life through her like an electrical shock, and she jumped to her feet. Opening the door eagerly, she let Denni in.
Of all Hannah’s friends, I liked Denni the most. She was a talkative girl exactly Hannah’s age, down to the exact same month, with skin darker than our mahogany coffee table. She was the only girl that made Hannah smile when she talked about her, and she liked to call her Yin. Hannah was then Yang, of course. I looked it up once, and the idea of Yin and Yang seemed to fit them perfectly. Yin was dark and calm and feminine, while Yang was light and hard and strong, even masculine. Though Hannah wore girl’s clothes and had long wavy hair, she had always been less girly than her peers, and many boys were afraid of her. Denni, of course, was the complete opposite of Hannah. If Denni wasn’t playing with someone’s hair or painting someone’s nails, then she was giving the full report on all the latest boys in the neighborhood. A couple of times, I had seen her do both at once. I had wondered for a long time how the two had ever become friends in the first place, until I read about Yin Yang, of course. Hannah’s agitated personality slid harmlessly over Denni’s easygoing nature, and Denni didn’t care when she did anything to annoy Hannah. Yang could vent and rant and growl all day long-even if it was about Denni herself-and Yin would patiently listen…and then sit and braid Yang’s hair, when when storm blew over.
Today, however, Yang wasn’t growling or hissing or fighting. As much as I hated it when she was like that, I had to admit that I preferred it to when she was subdued. When Hannah wasn’t fighting, something was very wrong.
Denni pulled her headphones off as she kicked her shoes into the corner and came inside. Like any good friend, she didn’t have to hear Hannah speak to know that something was wrong.
“Hey girl…what’s wrong?”
“I dunno.”
Hannah led the way back to the couch and flopped down in defeat, draping her arms listlessly over her knees.
“Something happen?”
“No. I mean, not really.”
“Well, then what’s up?”
Hannah was quiet for a long moment. Longer than was normal for dramatic effect or thinking about what to say. I strained to see her face, carefully leaning across the table, but her curtain of dark hair blocked my view. I only had Denni’s look of concern to go by. When she frowned and laid a comforting hand on Hannah’s shoulder, I had a guess at what must have been there on her hiding features.
Hannah shrugged off Denni’s hand as politely as possible, and Denni didn’t mind. My sister was never one for physical shows of affection, and it offended many people. But, like any good counterpart, Denni let such things roll off of her without a thought. So, she turned from facing her to just sitting calmly beside her, letting Hannah be. I heard my sister sniffle, and watched her wipe her eyes.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen my sister cry. The last memory that I could actually recall, was at Dad’s funeral. A spooky feeling rolled through me and up my spine, tightening my stomach both in worry and in a guilty sort of feeling, for watching her semi-secret display of emotion.
Eventually, her silently shaking shoulders stilled, and she angrily scrubbed away the last of her tears with the back of her knuckles. When she spoke again, her voice was gravelly from tears.
“She’s going to marry him.”
My stomach sank like a cold stone, it dropped abruptly into some dark pool with a hollow thunking splash, and Denni’s eyebrows perked over her eyes in surprise.
“Your mom?”
“Yeah.”
I couldn’t tell if it was a cough or a quiet sob, but something cut off the end of Hannah’s word, as if it choked her to say it.
“Oh no! What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything. She doesn’t know that I know about it. I heard her talking to her sister on the phone yesterday.”
She belatedly sounded like she was trying to keep her voice quiet enough so that one of us other kids didn’t hear her, but it didn’t work of course. I heard her. Sitting back in my chair, she dropped out of my sight, and I was left looking at the wall in front of me as they talked.
“…And you’re sure it’s actually going to happen?”
“Yeah. Soon. She wants out of this house.”
“Does she know that you don’t like him?”
There was silence. If Hannah was anything like me, then there was no answer for that question. Mom was happy for the first time in months, smiling and singing, even though she seemed so different inside. And it wasn’t like there was any solid reason not to like him. In fact, until that moment, I had thought that I was the only one who felt that way about him. It wasn’t that I particularly disliked him. I just…didn’t exactly like him. I felt small when he was around, he didn’t fit in the house with us, he was a stranger with his hand on Mom’s shoulder. I didn’t like him, but I couldn’t imagine telling my mother that. I couldn’t even imagine slipping up and doing something that would let her catch on to the fact. She would break again. He made her so happy…
But marriage?
I still couldn’t even swallow the word. My mind was gagging and choking on it, uncomprehending of what that even meant. I hadn’t even quite grasped the concept of them “dating.” That was something bizarre that teenagers did. Did that mean that they called each other boyfriend and girlfriend? Or, wasn’t there a different word for two people who were going to get married soon? And what about Dad. How did this work?
Hannah never answered Denni’s question. I couldn’t see her face any longer, from where I sat, dejected, in my chair, but I imagined that she was much like I was. Staring ahead in bleak thought, trying to absorb and deal and accept all at the same time. I couldn’t speak for Hannah of course, but I didn’t know how to actually do any of those things.
The conversation soon broke away from the looming topic when Paula came in to complain about Julia to her older sister, and then little Julia soon came whining after. The world returned to normal for most of the rest of the day, the girls creating their own whirlwind of chaos amongst themselves, and I did my best to duck, cover, and endure.