I stomped up the front steps of my house, ignoring my younger siblings. 12-year-old Emma and ten-year-old Egan had driven me crazy the entire way home with their endless, senseless, loud chatter. My thoughts were clouded darkly with ways to rid myself of them.
“Riki!” Emma called after me, skipping up the walk. “You’re not mad are you?” Four years younger than me, Emma had been my shadow for the longest time. She was finally growing out of it, but sometimes that made me kind of sad. She’d gotten to the age where she actually cared about how she looked. Her blond curls were pulled back from her face and clipped up, and she wore a jean skirt and a pink cardigan, but I knew as soon as we set foot in the door she would change into shorts and a t-shirt. She hadn’t grown up that much, but then, I hadn’t either.
“What’s she got to be mad about?” Egan cried indignantly. He clumped up the walk after Emma, his shirt untucked and partially unbuttoned and his sneakers untied. His metal Superman lunch box clanged against his knee, covered in dents from being thrown and not caught.
I chose not to answer them and opened the front door. I had barely stepped inside the threshold when my four-year-old nephew, Gus, collided with my knees.
“Aunt Riki!” He cried.
I could only look down at him surprised. I hadn’t seen my sister and brother-in-law’s car in the driveway. They didn’t live close enough to walk over. Maybe Enid had dropped Gus off.
“Hi Gus,” I ruffled his hair. “What are you doing here?”
Before he could answer, Mom appeared in the living room doorway.
“Erika, Emma, I need to talk to you,” she said. “Egan, take Gus out back and play.”
We were brought up to believe that “slow obedience is no obedience,” but there was something in Mom’s voice and eyes that made all three of us comply extra quickly. Egan didn’t even complain about being left out, he just set his backpack and lunch box down, grabbed Gus’s hand, and walked toward the kitchen. Emma and I tossed our bags by Egan’s and followed Mom into the living room.
Mom motioned us to sit on the couch. We sat down a little closer than we needed to—I felt like reaching for Emma’s hand, to reassure me as much as her. Mom sat on the love seat across from us. She didn’t say anything for a few minutes. I didn’t know why, but I was nervous. I studied her, trying to read what was lurking behind her eyes.
She wore her usual apparel—a knee-length skirt and blouse, no hose or socks, just sandals—her short blond hair was styled perfectly, as usual, and her make-up was flawless. I’d always known my mother was beautiful. I knew Emma looked exactly like her, and, to my sadness, I did not.
Wait, no. Her make-up wasn’t flawless right then—what was it? She wore no eye make-up. She’d been crying. My heart jumped into my throat and sat there like a painful lump. My own eye make-up would be washed off soon—I didn’t need any reason other than my mother’s pain. I knew Emma felt the same way.
Mom took a deep breath and looked at the floor, blinking repeatedly.
“Enid and the kids are staying with us for awhile,” she said finally. “Emma, you’ll have to move in with Erika, okay?”
“For how long?” Emma asked at the same time as I said, “Why?”
Mom met our eyes; hers were wet and distressed. For a second I thought she just couldn’t decide which question to answer first.
“I—I don’t know how long.” Her face and voice simultaneously melted into tears. Mom was most definitely a crier—I could never count how many times I’d seen her cry—yet I still couldn’t stand to see distress so openly displayed on the face of this woman that I loved more than life itself.
I covered my face with my hands, trying to keep my own sadness from escaping. I knew what the answer to my question was before Mom managed to get it out.
“Enid and Smith are—are separating.”
Emma had run upstairs to take refuge in my room—the room that we would be sharing—and Mom had followed her. I headed out back to join Egan and Gus. My head was filled with too many confusing thoughts for me to stay inside.
When I walked out the back door, Egan was helping Gus into our tree house. Egan saw me over Gus’s head.
“No girls allowed!” he yelled.
Gus struggled the last bit up the ladder and tumbled in the door. He turned around to look at me, copying Egan’s disdain.
“Yeah, Aunt Riki. No girls allowed.”
“I’m perfectly content to stay on the ground, thanks,” I said, not bothering to mention that it had been my tree house before either of them was born. My older brother Elton had rarely dared to declare the tree house out of bounds for girls because he knew Enid and I could just as easily kick him out. It was only when Elton’s friends were over and Enid wasn’t around that he had the guts to forbid my entrance.
I went to the very back of the yard to my favorite tree—a huge old oak—and climbed into the tire swing. I was getting too big for the swing, but it had always been my place to mull things over. I’d come to this swing both times Mom had told me I was getting a new sibling. I had been quite content with only Enid and Elton to bug me, and Emma did not impress me greatly so I was not thrilled with the arrival of Egan.
I’d come to this swing the day I’d realized that hell was a real place and I deserved to go there. I didn’t want to go there more than I’d ever not wanted to do anything. I was pretty sure I knew how not to go there from the many Sunday School lessons and sermons I’d heard over my five years, but I didn’t know if I’d be able to do it right. I cried and worried about it for a full hour before I finally went and told my mom. She’d gladly told me the way. I prayed and asked Jesus to forgive my sins and save me. Then Mom cried happy tears with me.
I’d come to this swing the day Enid got married. I’d even worn my maid of honor dress. Luckily it was after the wedding because I kinda got the pastel purple dress really dirty. Mom said we had to throw it away.
I’d come to this swing the day Elton left for college. I’d been hiding kind of. I hadn’t wanted to tell him good-bye because I knew I’d cry. He’d found me. His soft blue eyes assessed the situation immediately—or maybe he’d known before he even found me—and he’d simply said, “Hey. I’m headed out, kid. Didn’t wanna leave without telling you I love you.” He turned to go, and, gripped with fear that I wouldn’t get another chance, I scrambled out of the tire and threw my arms around him. He’d held me until I was ready to let go. He walked away without another word, and I climbed back into the swing and cried.
I stared down at the tread of the tire thinking about all the dried tears on it that I could no longer see. I ran my finger over the ridges to see if I could feel the tears—I could, but not on the tire, only inside me.
I heard Egan and Gus laughing in the tree house. All of us adored our nephews—even Egan who usually had no patience for younger children. I looked up at the window of Emma’s room. Enid, Cashel, and Gio were all taking a nap in there. That would be their room indefinitely. I thought of my nephews growing up in a broken home, and the thought tore at my heart.
Surely Smith and Enid would get back together, wouldn’t they? They had to. They wouldn’t get a divorce. The word was bitter in my mind. I’d always thought when I got married, divorce wouldn’t be an option, and I’d taken it for granted that my siblings felt the same way. Isn’t that what we’d been raised to think?
What had gone wrong?
I laid my head on the tire and concentrated only on the crick-crick sound the rope made as I swung.
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