After You

Jess

Alfie,

Well, you got what you wanted. It's now officially The Alfie Show. All eyes are on you. Are you loving it?

I thought you'd like to know that since you died, my parents haven't asked how I am. Not even once. When I came home from school in floods of tears after they told us, I thought my parents would at least hug me. I got home and they weren't even there. They were next door with your parents and Jacob. I thought they might at least have waited for me, but no, that's fine. Your family needed comforting, and our families have always been best friends. I tried my hardest to understand, even though I was breaking down inside.

They got home eventually. I opened the door to them, and they walked past me like I wasn't even there. I hadn't even opened my mouth to speak, and my Dad said "Not now, Jess. We've had some really bad news today".

Like we didn't grow up together. Like I wasn't almost as much of a sibling to you as Jacob was. Like I didn't matter.

Still, I shrugged it off. I thought maybe they were as enveloped in their grief as I was; too blind to see anything else outside of their sadness. It made sense; you were like a son to them in the same way I'm like a daughter to Cara and Stephen. Maybe I was the one being selfish; maybe I was blinded by my grief and needed to give them time to come to terms with it. I decided to wait.

Three weeks later, and I'm still waiting.

My parents have barely even looked at me since you died. They were so wrapped up in themselves at the funeral. I made the mistake of asking what time we needed to be at the crematorium and they screamed at me like I'd offended your memory in some way by not memorising the exact date and time. I haven't even bothered trying to speak to them since. They wander around the house like zombies. When you died, a part of them died too.

Sometimes I think they wish I died instead. You were the son they wish they had. We both said that all along; that they should have just swapped us at birth. Your parents adored me, because they adore everyone, but you and Jacob were supposed to be fraternal twins; one boy and one girl. When two identical boys popped out, they were surprised – and a little disappointed, in your opinion. After four girls, my parents were desperate for a boy, and out I came.

It's strange how, at the time, we never would have described our childhoods as anything but idyllic. It's only when you look back now that the cracks begin to show. I remember you resenting the amount of time your parents wanted to spend with me; the dinners where I'd do nothing but talk about make-up and clothes with your mum – back when those things still interested me. I ran away to your house once, when my parents told me to "be more like Alfie".

Over the last few weeks, I wonder if those words have crossed their minds again. I wonder if they've wanted me to take your place; to "be more like Alfie". To be dead.

So, that's what's happening in my life. I don't know if you thought you were being some kind of selfless martyr, doing what you did, but you weren't. You've screwed everything up for everyone else, and now I have to spend half an hour every week sitting in the Room of Bad News with a bereavement counsellor who sets us ridiculous tasks like this when I should be getting on with my life.

One of us has to.

Jessica