Living or Dead
By Hannah Sterkel, 17
This is a fictional story written from the perspective of an eight-year-old girl. Her alcoholic mother is pushing everyone in the family to search for ways of coping with her illness. Some of these ways are healthy, others are harmful. Potential triggers include alcoholism and relationship violence.
Living or Dead
Today in school we were told to make a family tree. All the other kids were excited because they have simple families. Their mama and papas live in the same house. They have parents who drop them off and pick them up from school while I am left sitting outside wondering if Mama will remember me. Everyone in their families seem happy. I wonder why no one in mine does. Everyone around me pretends to be happy but I know the truth.
Some people say that I’m “an old soul”. I’m not sure exactly what that means but I like it. It sounds cool. It makes me sound like a ghost. But I know I’m not a ghost. I don’t even have any ghosts. You see, some people think that ghosts are dead people who come back. That’s not true at all. All the grown-ups in my life have ghosts from their past. They have scary people who they used to know. Or who they used to be. Like my sister: she is only eighteen years old but she has ghosts from her past. She is ten years older than me. That’s an entire decade! She used to have a boyfriend. I’m not sure what he did but I know that he’s a scary ghost. After she started dating her boyfriend, she would spend all her time in her room. She stopped wearing tank tops and jean skirts and hoop earrings. She started wearing long sleeves and jeans and messy buns. Sometimes late at night, I would hear her crying in her room. I didn’t like him making her sad. They are both in college now. She had to go. It makes me sad that she’s gone. If she’s gone is she still part of our family? Do I include her on my family tree?
I’ll ask Mama. “Mama, should I put Lilly on my family tree now that she’s gone?”
“Silly girl. She’s not gone. She’s at school.”
“But Mama that doesn’t answer my question.”
Mama gets harsh and speaks quickly when I say this. “She is your sister and you will love her always. Even when she is not here.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Mama takes a deep breath. “Gracie, baby, I’m sorry. I know she’s not here and I know you’re confused. I promise she will be okay and she will be home soon.”
Mama pulls me into her lap and braids my hair before we go downstairs for dinner. Mama drinks wine with dinner. Her wine is the color of her lipstick. She drinks like she applies the lipstick. She applies her lipstick in smooth, fluid motions. She takes deep long sips of wine. Sometimes I wonder how she breathes between them. When she’s sad I know that’s when both the wine and the lipstick come out. She’ll put me to bed early and then I’ll hear the back door close. I’m not sure where she goes. When this happens, I climb in bed with Papa. He holds me in his arms and tells me stories until I fall asleep.
I walk into school. Typically when I go to school I pretend that everything is fine but today is different. I start crying during lunch and I can’t stop. I rip out the now messy french braids that Mama put in my hair last night. The hubbub comes bustling down the hallway and I know that lunch has been dismissed. Everyone is coming back to the classroom but I can’t stop crying. I don’t know why I’m crying I just am and I can’t stop.
I run to the nurse’s office and cry until I can’t anymore. She gives me an ice pack to put over my eyes to relieve the redness around them. I went back to class and continued to pretend that everything was fine. I have to pretend that everything is fine or people ask questions.
I get home from school and drop my book bag at the backstairs. I hear Mama on the phone. I wander into the kitchen to get a snack and see Mama collapsed on the floor gasping for air, she’s repeating “My baby. She can’t be. My baby. My poor baby.” I freeze. It’s Lilly. I know it is. She’s in trouble. I need to save her. It’s happening again. Her boyfriend. The bruises. The police. I run out the back door to go find her, even though I know it’s useless this time. I’m too late. She’s hurt too badly. Mama runs out the door after me. I feel arms wrap around me and I instantly know it’s Mama. I am hit by the weight of this so hard I am left gasping for air. I scream and try to escape from Mama. The desperate words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“I NEED TO SAVE LILLY! I NEED TO SAVE LILLY!”
“Gracie baby. I know.” She’s speaking quietly, tears streaming down her face. She won’t let me go. Holding me firmly until I give in, she tries to soothe me. As soon as I relax, she braids my hair to get it out of my face. “Ghosts come back to haunt you, Gracie. Don’t let them in.”
⦁ ⦁ ⦁
One week later I am standing in my closet with Papa. He pulls out my short sleeve black dress. He tells me that Mama said I have to wear black even though I want to wear red. Red was Lilly’s favorite color. He helps me into the dress and then zips it up for me. Papa brushes my hair. Slowly and gently. Mama hasn’t left her room since “That Day”, as Papa and I refer to it. Once my hair is soft and smooth, Papa scoops me up and carries me downstairs. We climb into the car. It is time to go say goodbye to Lilly.
Our family has been cracked into pieces. We are broken and damaged and bruised but it was much better when we were all here- when we had each other. I will never understand why Lilly continued surrounding herself by people that would hurt her. Maybe she wanted our parents to notice her, only her. For once, to worry about her instead of about Mama. I don’t know but I wish she would have told Mama and Papa. They could have helped her. We all could have helped her. She just needed to let us.
