I wish I could have told you I knew her better than anyone. I wish I would have asked why she memorized John Mayer songs and wrote in the margins between the crumpled faded pages of old Jane Austen books. And if I had, I wished she would have told me the truth.
But more than anything, I wish I could ask why people thought she was so heartless. Why everyone thought she was so incapable of love.
And then I would have asked her why she had chosen me, of all people, to love.
……………
“Do you want to get ice cream?” She asked and she peered up at me from where she was seated. The glare of the California sun was more stunning than the sun itself. In pictures, this day would look sunny and beautiful but in reality it was as cloudy and cold, just like my cousin. If only I had known.
“Can’t,” I told her and leaned on the heels of my shoes. “I have a date.”
She rolled her emerald green eyes, “You’re so cute when you’re delusional.”
“Period,” I corrected. “I’m so cute, period.”
She laughed, “And humble too.”
I smirked and she smiled up at me, twirling a strand of her raggedy un-brushed blonde hair.
“Why don’t we get ice cream real quick before you leave?”
“I’m leaving in ten minutes,” I told her.
“Oh,” she said and lightly drummed her bitten nails against the side walk. “Will you come over later?”
I didn’t think I would be able to. “Of course.”
She narrowed her eyes and pouted. “Liar.” My cousin had this delusional way of thinking that made her think she always got her way. But truth be told, she hardly ever got what she wanted and it probably had a lot to do with the face she made when she pouted.
I rolled my eyes, “I’ll try.”
She bit the inside of her lip before standing up and ruffling my dark hair. “I’m going to go read.”
“What no parties tonight?” I asked her.
She smiled thinly and shook her head, “Three weeks sober.”
I laughed because I knew her three week streak was limited. “See you later, Cous.”
She leaned up and kissed my cheek, “Don’t do anything I would.”
I laughed while she skipped back into the house.
………………………….
“Hello?” I yelled into the ridiculously over-sized and usually empty house.
The loud, echoing sound of water came from down the hall and I began to hear the faint lyrics of what sounded like one of the crappy, poetic songs she’d been recently listening to.
“Shit,” I heard through the thick wood door.
“Cousin?” I said and knocked but there wasn’t any answer.
The music overplayed the sound of my voice, so I opened the door.
“What the hell?” I asked when I saw the blood she was trying to wash away.
She groaned and rolled her eyes. “It’s not what it looks like,” she told me quickly.
I raised a thick eyebrow, “Really? Than what exactly is it?”
She narrowed her eyes that were currently greyish and grabbed a bottle of whiskey that she had on the floor. “I broke my streak.”
“Of course you did.”
She nodded, as if had somehow answered my question, and I walked closer to her grabbing her small wrist in my hand and tracing the long, thin cut on her arm. “Don’t tell me…”
She shook her head, quickly, pulling her hand away. “You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t,” I said and my voice was rising with every word.
“My mom called,” she slurred as she nervously twirled her blonde hair. “She was upset.”
“When?”
She sighed, “Before I could find the key to liquor cabinet.”
I sat myself down on the sink and I could feel her eyes watching me, calculating my reaction, trying to figure out what would come next. She used to hate to get screamed at but over time, she’d learned to expect it. Words no longer did her any harm.
“Come here,” I said and held out my hands. She didn’t think twice before rushing in to my arms. My hands held her small waist tightly as she tried to keep herself from crying.
“I love you, cousin,” she mumbled against my shirt.
I shushed her and rubbed her back, “I love you too.”
She shook her head, “you don’t understand.”
I didn’t say anything after that because she was right- I didn’t understand.
Honestly, I hadn't wanted to understand.
