The Closer I Get to You

4

Beyoncé

Solange walks in front of me and I cling to her backpack as if we were in kindergarten holding a rope to walk through the hallways so we don't get lost.

We walk home on Fridays. because my mother says so. We barely move around through out the week so this is her way of lessening our chances of bedsores and butt calluses by at least 5%.

My vision is double as we walk on the sidewalk and I take some puffs of my joint. Solange knows of my addiction, but I buy her toys and candy so she doesn't rat me out.

It's shitty, but I swear I'm gonna stop. If not for myself for my family and friends. I'd rather do a backflip onto scalding nails than influence my sister to get hooked on drugs when she starts to get exposed to certain things in high school.

We get to the driveway and I pull my keys out of the back pocket of my book bag.

"Hold up, Solo." I light push the ten year old to the side as I slightly struggle to unlock the door.

I open it and she runs in, throwing her bag on the couch and going to her room. I sigh and take in the smell of my mama's favorite air fresheners. Food is in the slow cooker as I enter the kitchen and set my bag down in one of the chairs.

Our home is a one floor-er with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. Not horrible, but it is an older house with smaller rooms.

My family began to struggle when I was 5 or 6 and my mama and I came from a birthday party to find my father fucking another woman in the living room. My mother loved the man so she forgave and continued in the marriage. A little later we began to have financial issues because he could never let his side girls go. He put more financial effort into them and us. My mother would get pregnant again and birth Solange, months later my dad would leave for one of his girlfriends who gave to him a son.

He left us with a world of things to fix and a child for my mama to raise with my help. Our financial situation is better now, but my mama struggles mentally so I help as much as possible. We stopped attending church out of my mother's shame and obligation to work 12+ hours each day. It was gradual, but by the time I realized we had stopped attending altogether I had lost the reasonings for any faith.

I was young and handed such a big weight to carry. Even my mama would cry and agree with me on harder days.

For a brief period of time I was insanely angry and pointing the finger to everyone else in the world. As an unknowing child it's so easy to do that, but now I regret it and the more I let my mind slip to it, I pop or puff on something.

It was around 9th grade that I got wrapped up with the wrong people who took advantage of my poor mental health and got me interested in drugs. Then sophomore year I met Zendaya and we were very toxic and on and off. My mama accepted my sexuality but never Zendaya. I should've listened because here I am carrying the burden.

With her being an addict I went from being a recreational (every couple of months user) to an addict as well. We're broken up for good but it's left for me to pick these pieces up.

Someone with a broken home is more succeptible to falling into shitty habits. Two co-dependent teens is an absolute disaster waiting to happen. I blamed the Divine for bringing such a person into my life. But we were kids. Daya didn't know much better either.

She had a similar share of family issues going on as well. I stopped blaming her when she slowed her intake and I kept going up.

Drugs were built and targeted towards those who don't seem to have it fair in life and those who haven't realized their potential, I know. But I'm too deep in the well and too weak to climb my ass back up.

I check my phone briefly to see the groupchat blowing up. I move to respond but before I can, Solange interrupts my action.

"Beyoncé, I'm hungry."

I clear my throat and nod, "Okay, I'll get you something to eat, go get cleaned up okay?"

I lean on the kitchen counter as the drug kicks in. Solange leaves right before my eyes hood up. I feel the shift in my own energy as I scramble for plates and cups in the cabinets.

I've done this enough times that balance isn't much of a struggle to keep.

I feel myself growing angry at the little bitch of salt my sister accidentally spilt next to the stove trying to make breakfast this morning. I notice the cracks in the kitchen floor tiles. I tense up at how old and grimy the fridge looks when I open the door for some juice. I hate how loud the chair is when Solange slides it out to sit down. I stop moving and bare down on the countertop to stop myself from yelling.

my phone dings again and I unlock my phone seeing some messages with the skull emoji coming in from Robyn.

Ironic, isn't it?

I should stop interacting with others while high. I do more damage than good. With hat in mind I roll my eyes and push my phone away from me.

"Slow down!" I tell her sternly as I set the food down in front of her.

She stares at me for a couple of seconds then picks the fork up.

she arches her brow, "You eatin' too?"

"Yeah..." the room starts to spin and I pinch the bridge of my nose. "in a second."

She takes a bite then stops to chew her food and swallow.

"Well I'm gonna wait for you."

I muster up a smile. Even through the drugs I fight through to be nice to my sister.

I bring my plate over and sit next to her. It's now that I slunk over and fight to hold my eyes open. The clink of the utensils on her plate makes me straighten up and open my eyes.

"You um..." Solange stops eating again.

I feel bad while I nod.

"How was school today, sis?"

It's my best attempt to avoid the topic. I'm not about to get into my traumas and mental health issues with a ten year old.

"Good." she answers with a smile. "We have tryouts for the school play. I wanna try it."

I smile, "You should audition."

"You should come to the show with your friends."

"You need to audition though, sis. Inviting people when you haven't even auditioned yet."

"I'm gonna do it though." she says sternly with a smile.

I smile.

The one thing I've done right amongst my shortcomings has been shielding Solange from the issues preceding her birth and my father's shady actions. But at times it feels like I'm a teen mom and/or living a sort of double life. I'm raising the person I should be while turning around and showing her the not-so stellar actions my unsolved issues have caused me. I'm not mad my mama isn't doing the bulk of raising her. She's working and providing as much she can, but I know that I shouldn't be the one tasked with raising my sister.

I'm gonna slip up, I'm not sure at what point though. What am I gonna do when she starts wanting our father around? How am I gonna explain the events of the past couple of years to her?