say‘ I love you too’ because that word has no meaning for me and I’ m not an empty talker, so I’ m just silent and grave.
That evening they talk about vitamin Ds and antidepressants, and that sets little warnings off in my head because antidepressant: what the actual fuck. I’ m against all kinds of medication because they fuck up the body in undetected ways, and I don’ t want mom to depend on them— or god forbid— become an addict just so she’ s a little more upbeat for my sake. I’ m having green tea ice cream when dad asks me to go to my room and close all the doors. They want to keep me in the dark about this but I put my ear on the door and try to listen to what they’ re talking about. I can’ t hear much. The next day, dad tells me the meds are nothing serious, and I really don’ t have a choice but to take his words at face value.
*****
Me: I feel so bad for them because they’ re polar opposites and they have to spend the rest of their lives together and I’ m the only thing that’ s holding them together.
Sis: You think so? I don’ t think you’ re the only thing holding them together. Me: Okay, me and inertia, I guess.
Sis: Well. I think that’ s like a small part of the picture. The twenty years they’ ve spent together is exactly what they have in common, quite literally. They understand each other best, who else? But I also think they share some values: honesty, frugality, commitment to family. You don’ t think so?
Me:
Sis: I often wonder if they would have been happier if they met someone else. But I’ m not so sure. I hardly think each other is their problem. I think those problems would have surfaced in any marriage they were going to go into. What do you think?
Me: Me: I think I’ m the problem. Sis:
Sis: Look, I know what you’ re going through because trust me, I’ ve been there before and it’ s not pretty. And I didn’ t even have a sibling to talk to back then because you were so little. But you’ re not the problem. God, I wish someone told me that when I was younger. You shouldn’ t ever beat yourself over it because they still love you no matter what. Okay? You’ re not the problem.
***** It costs about 300,000 dollars to raise a child here, a veritable industry in itself.
I look in the mirror and remember to remind myself: I am loved, I deserve to exist, I am not the problem. Things will be okay.
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