Sisters

 

It is a strange and disarming truce she, Montana Mattingly, enters into, not really knowing with whom. Her sister is dying and likes to hint that their mother owes them some unspoken debt from a vague and never fully defined childhood memory.

That is her sister’s perspective. Life rules modeled by the family:

  • People are for a “step up” to increase their quality of life.
  • There is no God.
  • Most people are stupid.
  • True grace is nonexistent.
  • The world owes her more than a few miracles.

Marriage has disappointed Montana intensely and memories of it leave her as though choking on dry chalky saliva. Many of her life moments are spent sucking anything positive from anyone, anywhere.

And yet, Montana holds a spark. The spark one finds floating out of reach, flickering only slightly and even then without much animation. She has reached her fiftieth birthday while still physically stunning and interesting to observe — albeit without experiencing motherhood. Her cloud of self-covering is darkness so perverse that even she shrinks from it as though darting out from under a clothesline of sour wet laundry, startled to find herself alive.

She has come home to help. Yet everywhere she turns, the squirming reminder that she does not belong here mirrors the voices inside her. Home. Why does she bother to try when the family “Kodak Moments” slide up and down her throat as a drunkard’s bile of last night’s foray? She is as uneasy as melted ice.

Just today, her sister’s illness in remission for the third time, victorious well-intended speeches slam into her brain. “Fill your cup,” they say. “Enjoy these moments.” “Love your sister, your mother.” “Seize the day.” “Look for the positive.”

Her heart goes on beating without expecting it to. Stumbling, stuttering, remote, and without a steady sound. She longs for a sign from the Universe announcing that all would be well. It will be okay. This is as good as it gets. Stop waiting for something else.

Taste, savor, hesitate, taste again, fall, fail and start again. Breathe, engage lift off, soar, fly, swoon, dive and relax. Yes, that’s right.

Live.

Writing and Art by FawnRising©1995
Le Lac du mon Père
January 3, 1995
Crystal Lake Florida United States of America Earth