American Asia

Sisters Again

Asia

A sister? A sister! A sister. My parents are adopting yet another child, this one a twelve-year-old girl from my own hometown named Thalias. She speaks asian and english, both of which I can speak. They painted her bedroom, one of the unused guestrooms, her favorite color-blue, got her a dresser full of clothes, and  medium-sized bed with white wooden panes on the side and a “crown” at the back where her head would be. They also got her school supplies, shoes, and her locker and locker#, plus makeup and tooth and hair brushes.

Thalias arrives today! It has been almost a month and my parents have been in Asia for a long time. I squeal as their car pulls into the drive, run out to meet them and stop with a screech. I stub my toe and curse like a sailor while my eyes watered in pain. She looked just like me. Stunning, really. From complexion to hair to eyes. She was staring at me too. My parents glance nervously between us.

“Girls,” my dad said, sweating under his overcoat, I’m sure. “Introduce yourselves.

“Hi, I’m Asia.” I said, extending a hand.

“Thalias,” she smiled, taking it and jiggling it roughly.

“Girls,” dad input, “You’re sisters.” Then he took a step back as if expecting a bomb to explode.

“Yeah, I know, you adopted her for a daughter.” I said, pumping my legs on the swing next to Thalias.

“No, I mean for real. You’re blood-related.” mom explained. I threw myself off the swing, landing heavily, falling, and squealing loudly when I landed in the wet grass. I looked up and grinned cheesily. Thalias hopped down to help me up.

“Let’s go inside.” dad suggested. I let out the breath I was holding in. So we went in and ate cookies. “I have a special surprise for you two,” mom said, “You two are taking a trip to see your parents this winter” I screamed loudly, Thalias dropped her cookie, and half of my siblings fell out of the hallway. That went over so smoothly. We ate our cookies in silence. Halfway through my white chocolate macadamia, however, a thought struck me.

“Thalias, were you put into an orphanage after you were born or right when you were born. Thalias seemed to be thinking hard.

“Well, the agent who made me part of your family  said that mom gave me a name, then she got all sad because I looked like you, and she said she didn’t want me. So they took me away and put me into foster care, and by the time I was nine, I had run away seventeen times, slapped my agent quite a few times, and said that I hated my “parents” too many times to count.” Thalias rushed through her words, tripping over vowels only so many times.   I swallowed all of that as I pulled on my jammies and crawled into my heated bed. Maybe now I’ll find out more about mom.