The Obscure Downsides of Fame

69 // the semantics

"Yeah. I'm good," was what she did end up saying. That wasn't what she had planned out in her head, though.

"Then why do you look like that day you had to flush Goldi down the toilet?"

She looked down, letting out a deep sigh.

"Are you okay?" I asked again, this time maybe a little less judgmental.

"I'm good," she repeated. "I was just thinking that maybe we could do something fun together? But you probably have something else to do later today, so it's fine if you can't."

"I mean, what do you wanna do? We can catch a movie if you want to."

"Yeah, but like..." a moment of silence passed as she was in her mind, thinking about something I clearly couldn't figure out. When she looked back up, the look in her eyes basically said 'fuck it' as she continued to speak again. "I'm okay. But are you?"

I was a little taken aback by the question, which was probably why she was so hesitant to ask. It was such a simple question, and by the way she acted, I expected something a lot more serious.

"Of course I am. Why?"

She rolled her eyes. "You can't be serious."

I narrowed my eyes in confusion.

"When was the last time we've truly had a conversation, Oakley? Do you remember?"

I started digging. The last time I saw her wasn't too long ago. It was right before I went to stay at Nolan's place for a couple of days. I passed her outside on the porch as she was leaving for school. I told her to have a great day and went inside, not paying her any mind. I was pretty sure it was around the time the antidepressants started messing with my head. Back when my mind was racing, came up with ridiculous lyrics and musical concepts I could barely now understand myself. And which I apparently also posted to Instagram.

Everything before then was pretty much a blur. I knew things that happened, but it was like the emotions tied to it were missing.

I remembered Nolan helping me do my hair. Him helping me get dressed, brushing my teeth, changing clothes like I was incapable of doing these things myself. Maybe I was incapable of it at that time.

But then, after a while of giving it a thought, I remembered. I'd practically told her I was actively trying to die.

"I'm so sorry. I should've never put you through that. I promise you I never meant it like that."

She started crying silently, and I didn't know what to do but to get off my ass and wrap an arm around her.

"I don't wanna lose you," she said.

"I'm so sorry for everything," I told her. "I promise you, I'm doing good. I'm doing great, even. Nolan helps me through a lot of shit, even after I've repeatedly made him feel crap. Mom and dad are always there for me too, even if I sometimes feel like I'm kind of burdening them with all that I'm asking from them. And you, you're my little sister. I'm supposed to be the one looking out for you, not the other way around. All I want is to make sure you're okay."

We sat in silence for a few more minutes. Trisha occasionally sucked in a deep breath.

"Let's watch a movie together. In the movie theater. It'll be like old times. Remember when I took you to Barbie?"

She let out a soft giggle, almost inaudible if she didn't follow up with the rest of the story.

"And you sang along to all the songs like you were giving a Barbie concert. All the little kids loved it."