I'm not much of an early riser, but my little sister is far worse off; I tug at her arm but she just moves her head away from me and hides underneath the blankets. That only gets her about five more minutes of... pretend sleep. I walk out of the house and head for the spout sticking out of the ground next to the nettle bush and smile to myself as grandma runs inside; after a short, noisy confrontation, I find Al standing next to me, squirming in the sunlight, as I finish wiping my face dry with a ragged towel. I stroke her head playfully and she tries to swat my hand away.
"You're hopeless aren't you," I chuckle to myself. "Come, I'll help you wash your face," I place my hand on her back and guide her gently toward the spout, but she begins mutely wrestling with me and eventually pushes me away. I hop on one foot and burst into a laugh, barely managing to balance myself on the fringe of the nettle bush. She bends down with a stoic expression and manages to awkwardly rub some water onto her face.
"Well, alright then," I smile and walk away. I do try to be more gentle than grandma, I think she at least appreciates that. The kitchen is a separate building next to the garden, and she follows me into it almost as soon as I leave, as if suddenly becoming completely disinterested in the face washing activity. The sun is shining warmly through the lace curtains onto the rickety table next to the window of some wood I care not about and Al's long, smooth hair is silver in the glare. I study her as she takes a bite of freshly-baked bread and a sip of warm goat milk and wonder at how she always manages to maintain a mysterious depth of expression—it's like she's in the middle of overthrowing the Copernican theory in her head, or something equally mind-boggling like that.
"Al, you know we have to take the goats out to the field ourselves today, right? Grandma has to run over to the electricity department to work out some billing issue."
"Is that why she was arguing with the electrician yesterday?"
"Well, yeah, I think so."
"Why does the whole village have to know every time some kind of a problem comes up in our house? It's embarrassing!"
I chuckle, "It's just the way she is, you know."
"Well, would it hurt her to maybe argue more quietly? All of my friends tease me about it." I smirk and shrug. "The other day Katie said grandma kicked her dog, so now she doesn't even want to talk to me."
"Katie's dog, really? It is a little aggressive though isn't it; she was probably justified in doing it," I replied as I furrowed my brow. "Look, I know our grandma is a little abrasive, but it's not like there is anything I can do about it. She has a very strong personality, and that's why she's able to take care of us the way she does. I think you would get along with her pretty well if you just opened your mind up a little about her." Al drops her head in silence.
Our parents passed when I was two and Al was just a few months old. I don't remember much about them, which is probably why I'm not as saddened by their passing as some people seem to think I should be, plus Al is always next to me, and I think that's really what makes me strong. I feel like I have to protect her, sometimes even from grandma—their personalities are a bit at odds. I guess you could say they are both very passionate. Then again, I am pretty passionate myself, but there is something that makes me look at things from the outside so to speak.
I'm not entirely sure how Al feels about our parents being gone. While I have some vague recollections about our parents, all Al has are pictures and grandma's bedtime stories. She grows silent whenever the subject comes up in casual conversation, as if unable to decide what her appropriate reaction should be. I try to avoid talking about it as much as possible.
