ANDREA SILVA
MY SISTER’S KEEPER
Dressed up in black lace with black leather boots, I look
down on the little black ants. I watch as they embrace
each other to feel better about the loss. I stand blank, I
stay still, with too many emotions running through my
nervous system. I can’t bear to go downstairs and join them,
knowing I can’t do anything to bring you back. Instead, I
start recalling memories I wish I had forgotten.
“C’mon Agatha, look at this.”
With an unresponsive face, I walk over to my
sister, knowing what she’s pointing to before I even get
there.
guessed.”
“Edward Hopper, look at that, I never would’ve
Lies. I knew exactly who he was. She stares
towards the horizon of his work while I stare at her.
Miriam has these eyes that light up when she’s found some
inspiration or some deep meaning to art, while I just see
pictures. As I watch her fall deeper in love with his work,
I become envious of her, even though I don’t want to be.
Maybe because I don’t find any inspiration in anything
I see, or maybe because she was always the one who was
easier to talk to. I have to admit, I always wanted to be
like her. I hide these feelings behind my shoulder and put
on a smile to make her happy; even though I would never
be the favorite, I knew that at least with her, I could be
myself.
They are liars, attention seekers, and I can’t stand to watch
them. Acting as if it actually mattered. Grabbing my leather
coat, I see Miriam’s cold body lying dead, but not her soul,
something that never can be forgotten.
I say my final goodbyes and drive out of
Riverdale without looking back. But even sitting in the
car, I still remember.
“Stop packing, what are you doing?”
“I can’t stay here anymore, Agatha; I have to
leave! I can’t look back, let me find who I was meant to
be.” With fiery eyes, Miriam yells, “Come with me! We’ll
explore Vienna together. We can buy a house, find our
passions together and take the world with our clenched
fists.”
I stand facing Miriam, conflicted, knowing
that wasn’t going to happen. We start sobbing and hugging
each other like fighting tigers. We both know she has to
follow her heart.
My eyes travel with her as she walks out the
door with nothing but a backpack full of clothes, money
and a notebook to record the images she sees on her
journey. Dreams, hopes and ambitions go with her out
the door, never coming back.
These old memories flash through my mind as I
stand at the window. What do these people even know about
Miriam? Many of these ants don’t know a thing. Coming
to her funeral is a showcase. An event in their lifetime they
are a part of, but not important enough to be remembered.
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