Remember; You Have the Universe

[ 42 ]

One night,
over
Caesar salad
and roasted
chicken
(ew! to
bland, dry
white meat)
Quinn
throws her fork
and a fit.

I am sick,
thus grumpy,
and turn my
nearly baleful
eyes on her.
I am not
in the mood
for a whine fest.

She blames
Jeff
for marrying into
a family
that has
me.
She complains about
how's she's
tired
of eating
so healthy
just because
I have to.
She wants
fried chicken
and salt
on her potatoes.
She wants
chips instead of
carrots
with her
sandwiches.
Quiana doesn't
say anything,
but it's obvious
to everyone
that she agrees.
Jeff says
it's better this way.
That taking
care of
our bodies
is hard sometimes
but will make
life easier
in the long run.
He claims
eating healthy
is not a
bad thing.
Quiana and Sam
are used
to treating Quinn like
the baby.
I've never
had
until then
a younger sibling
to bash on.
Just a half-brother
who's
ten years
my senior
and doesn't care
that I exist.
Sam rags on
Quinn
for being,
"such a
whiny baby,"
to which she
makes a
guttural noise
of rage
but I
have not been
forgotten.
Quinn fires at
Jeff,
saying she wants
to go back
home
and have
her life back—
one that
doesn't revolve around
or even
involve me.

I shoot back,
asking her if
she thinks
I like being
this way.
My neck
is too stiff
to turn toward her
and it hurts
to breathe.
She confirms
that this is
what she thinks.
At this point,
Quiana steps in
to defend
her sister,
making me jealous
of what
they have,
and instead of it being
a fight between
siblings,
it is
everyone
against me.
Quiana informs me,
her face
taut
and sour,
that I'm obsessed
with attention,
that I don't care
about anything
but my stupid lungs.
That I
am an
attention hog.
That everything
has to be about
me and
how hard
my life is.
I ask her
what kind of
problems
she has
that can compare
with mine.

Jeff,
who has been
protesting
this entire time,
shuts it down.
Jason babbles.
My mom watches,
looking at me
like she doesn't
even know me.
I am not
her daughter.
I am a disease
upon this family.
I am tearing
apart
something that
could
be whole;
people that
could
have happiness.

Jeff says
we have all
expressed valid
and honest
emotions,
which is great,
but we are
hurting
each other
and need to find
a better way
to express or
frustrations.
Ever the
peacemaker.
He tells me
everyone's struggles
are valid,
and it is not
about how big
the problems are,
but how big
they are
to the person
living through them.
He tells
the sisters
change is hard,
but they should
be welcoming
toward me,
the girl without
a family—
except he doesn't
add that
last part.
He tells Sam
to use kind words
when talking
to people.
Jason gets scolded
for nothing.

Sam goes back
to being
disinterested;
the sisters retreat,
sulking;
I simmer
in what
they've thrown at me;
my mom
haunts me
with that distraught
look on her face.
She mumbles
that this
is all
her fault
and leaves
the table.