When I Outgrew My Sister, My Mother Cursed Me to Death

My older sister, Penny, has brittle bone disease. Our home was a fortress of safety rails and padded corners. I was never allowed toys, running, or jumping, lest I distract or endanger Penny.

This lasted until my eighth birthday. As I carried the cake to her, Moms sharp voice cut in: Stand up straight, let me see! She measured our heights I was now taller than Penny.

I felt a rush of pride. Maybe I could finally help more, protect her better. But when I turned, I saw devastation on Moms face.

"What are you showing off for? If your sister wasnt sick, shed be taller than you by now!"

Panicked, I stammered an explanation. The cake slipped from my hands and splattered on the floor. Trying to help, Penny lost her balance and fell.

Mom shoved me aside and rushed to her. "Why do you have to upset her? Cant you let her have one good day?"

"Why couldnt it have been you who got sick? Why arent you the one dying?"

My hand tightened around the medical report in my pocket. Okay, Mom.

...

I'd been carrying that report with me for a week.

Last week, when I went with Mom for Penny's check-up, the doctor had stopped me, suggesting I get a quick exam as well.

Mom was busy at the pharmacy window, picking up Penny's prescriptions. Without even turning around, she'd said, "There's nothing wrong with her. She's as healthy as a horse."

When the results came back, I held the paper in my sweaty palm.

I couldn't read all the words, but I recognized the two that mattered: "brittle bone disease." They were the exact same words written on my sister's chart.

The doctor told me I needed to wear braces, take medication, and come in for regular check-ups.

He said a lot of things, but I only remember one question: "Your bones are already showing subtle signs of the condition. Does it hurt?"

Yes.

It hurt. A sharp, splitting pain whenever I turned over in my sleep, when I got out of bed in the morning, when I walked down the stairs.

But I shook my head and forced a smile. "No, it doesn't hurt."

I carefully folded the report and tucked it deep into my pocket.

That evening, I worked up the courage to tell her, but I overheard Mom on the balcony, her voice a low, desperate plea.

"Brenda, you know how sick my daughter is... can you please ask the foreman for another month's advance on my paycheck? My daughter can't wait."

The words died in my throat.

I looked down at the corner of the report peeking out of my pocket and pushed it deeper inside.

It was okay. My teacher always said, "first come, first served."

Penny got sick first, so she should be treated first. I could wait.

I tiptoed into Penny's room and quietly took a set of her old, worn-out braces. I clumsily strapped them on under my clothes.

This way, I wouldn't get hurt. I could definitely hold on until Penny was better.

But the next day, as Mom was helping me with my jacket, her fingers brushed against the unnatural hardness on my arm.

She ripped open my sleeve. When she saw the braces, her face turned to stone.

"What is this? You're stealing from your sister now? These things are for saving her life!"

"Do you have any idea how expensive these are? You're perfectly healthy. Are you wearing this to curse yourself, or are you cursing your sister?"

I flinched, my eyes pleading with her. "No, Mom, I..."

Mom cut me off. She raised her hand, held it there for a second, then let it fall, her shoulders trembling. "So young, and already so cruel."

"You see your sister suffering, and it makes you happy? You have to copy her just to spite me?"

I took off the braces, folded them neatly, and placed them back by Penny's bed, closing her door with a heavy heart.

"I'm sorry, Mom."

It's okay. I'll just be extra careful, and then I won't get hurt.

As long as I'm careful enough, I can live for a long, long time.

It wasn't until Mom screamed those words at me"Why don't you just die?!"that I finally understood.

I was sick, but I couldn't take Penny's place.

A single bottle of medicine cost so much money. Mom's money was all for Penny. There wasn't enough to share with me.

But what if I died?

Then Mom's burden would be lighter. All the money, and all the love, could go to Penny, whole and complete.

Mom was right.

This was the best, most correct thing I could do.

After Mom finished massaging Penny's legs and giving her medicine, she carried her back to bed.

Penny whispered, "Mom, don't be mad at Annie. She didn't do anything wrong. I was just clumsy."

Mom didn't answer, just waved a tired hand.

I hid behind the door, listening, my fingers gently rubbing the ribs where Mom had shoved me.

When Mom came out, she froze for a second when she saw me.

Her eyes were still red, her voice hoarse. "I'm leaving for work now. You watch your sister. Don't cause any more trouble."

I nodded, rubbing my cheek against the hand she offered.

Mom's hands were always on Penny. For once, her touch lingered on me.

Her palm was so warm, and her sleeve smelled faintly of soap. I had yearned for this for so, so long.

She paused, gave my cheek a gentle squeeze, and then she was gone.

The door clicked shut.

I knelt by Penny's door, listening until I was sure she was asleep, then I started to clean.

I looked at the smashed cake on the floor and licked a bit of frosting from my fingertip. It was sweet. Such a waste.

I scrubbed the stain from the floor, mopped until it shone, and folded the clean laundry into neat piles.

Every time I bent over, a sharp pain shot through my spine. I bit my lip and told myself it was okay.

It's okay. This is the last time I'll have to help Mom.

I looked around the tidy apartment, nodding with satisfaction.

I dragged a chair over to the wall cabinet and took down the family first-aid box.

My teacher said you should never take medicine without a grown-up, or you could die.

I was glad I had paid attention in class. I knew exactly how to die.

I rummaged through the box.

This was Mom's sleeping medicine. I had to leave that for her. Can't take it.

This was Dad's pain medicine. Can't take that either.

This was Penny's medicine. It was very, very expensive. I put it carefully back in the very corner.

I kept searching, and finally, I had a small pile of colorful, rarely used pills.

I cupped them in my palm. They looked like a tiny, rainbow-colored mountain.

I slid the chair to the refrigerator and took out the strawberry milk Mom had given me as a reward last week.

I hadn't been able to bring myself to drink it.

But the medicine would be bitter. If I couldn't swallow it all and didn't die, I would just cause Mom more trouble.

I hesitated, then poured half of it into a glass.

I put the cap back on the other half and placed it back in the fridge for Penny when she woke up.

I carefully locked the front door.

I knelt by my bed and, from under the mattress, pulled out the award certificates I'd never been allowed to display.

I smoothed them out, one by one, and then placed them back under the mattress with my medical report.

Finally, I climbed onto my little bed.

From under my pillow, I took out my savings: three twenty-dollar bills, seven tens, one five, and five dimes.

Some of it was saved from my lunch money, some from selling scrap I'd collected, and some from doing homework for classmates.

I wrote on a slip of paper: "For a new wheelchair cushion for Penny. She says her current one hurts."

I placed the money and the note in the very center of the table, where Mom would see it the moment she walked in.

There. Everything was taken care of.

Now I could die in peace.

I swallowed the pills with the half-glass of strawberry milk.

It was fragrant and sweet, and it covered the bitter taste of the medicine.

Strawberry milk was so delicious. Penny would definitely like it.

I lay down, pulled the covers up to my chin, and folded my hands over my stomach.

On TV, people who died peacefully always looked like this.

When Mom came home and saw the clean house and the money I'd left, she would feel a little bit of relief, right?

Dad wouldn't have to work three jobs at once anymore, and Mom wouldn't have to beg for advances on her paycheck.

And Penny... Penny could have all the love.

My breathing got lighter. My body felt like it was sinking and floating at the same time.

I squeezed my eyes shut, afraid to open them.

The pain in my ribs was fading, replaced by a spreading numbness.

What a strange feeling.

Suddenly, I missed Mom so much. And Dad.

Last month, when Dad left for his long-haul job, he promised he'd bring me strawberry chocolate when he came back. It's a shame I'll never get to taste it.

When I opened my eyes again, I was looking down at myself, lying on the bed.

So this is what it's like to die. It doesn't hurt. It just feels... light.