The List

2. boxes

The List

-forget-me-not-

2

boxes

It had been two weeks since the funeral and Dad had yet to give me more than a passing glance. I think he was more ashamed of my behaviour at the funeral than anything else but he needn’t worry. Gloria did her part as the stern but sympathetic parental figure to a ‘t’.

I was so used to her lectures that it didn’t even make more than a tiny blip on the radar for me.

Dad had gotten a promotion right before Emily died and to be honest, I think the only kind thing he’d done for me since was tell Gloria and I that we were moving for the job in Santa Barbara. I would’ve thrown a party at the chance to move but the only one who would’ve found the idea amusing was Emily.

To be frank, though we were only eighteen months apart, Emily and I had been like chalk and cheese all our lives. Em was the cheese; colourful, nice, a crowd pleaser. I, on the other hand, was the chalk: plain, pale, boring and mostly found in school.

I was never half as popular as Em which I didn’t really mind because I wasn’t half as nice as Emily either and people tended to irritate me. I kept to my own a lot, only really relaxing around a few close friends and Emily, of course. School was more about learning and grades for me, while Emily enjoyed the social interaction.

It had been bearable, despite my inherent lack of popularity. I just got through it all and managed quite fine, thank you very much. But after this, I was no longer Emily Hart’s shyer sister. I was Rose Hart, the last remaining Hart child.

Everyone remembered Emily and I had been getting nothing but condolences and pity filled looks since she passed. I couldn’t take it anymore; it wasn’t in my nature to deal with so many irritating people, especially a bunch of kids who claimed to know exactly what I was going through because they’d shared lunch with my sister occasionally.

Honestly, I was sick of them, of the teachers, all of it. So when Dad said we were shipping off in a few weeks time, it was a miracle I didn’t break out in song. The only thing holding me back was Gloria’s mind-numbing lectures and, oh yeah, my sister was dead and breaking out into song felt inappropriate.

I had to admit- I was envious of my father’s ability to retain his numbness all this time. I wished I could be so lucky but no, I was stuck feeling every bit of pain that came with Em’s death, as well as every other emotion that felt so…inappropriate in light of what was going on in my life.

I hated that I felt relieved and happy about moving because my sister was dead.

I hated that I felt bitter and angry about Dad’s neglect because my sister was dead.

I hated that I felt such desperate desire to forget and stop the pain because my sister was dead.

I hated that I felt sad and hurt about Emily’s absence because she was dead and I felt like the most selfish piece of filth in the world to be so preoccupied with myself.

I admired Dad’s numbness because I wanted so badly not to feel. I tried, a couple of times, to force myself into it. I tried forcibly to ignore my emotions but I failed miserably. I tried several times to lock myself away but boredom sunk in a lot and it made me feel worse.

And currently, I was trying a new tactic.

As I sat in the bedroom I shared with Em, packing away her stuff because, as Gloria had explained, Dad couldn’t ‘bear to see all the reminders of his little girl’. Because obviously it was much better to allow your other ‘little girl’ to go through the pain for you instead.