I See Colors | Taegi

sixteen

I'm welcomed home
by my younger sister sitting on the couch
who usually
is in her room at this time.

"Taehyung oppa."
She calls,
"Mom's out again,
so can you make dinner?"

I hum.
"When will she be back?"

   "I dunno."
She shrugs.

People have different ways of shrugging.
My sister's is very obvious,
like she's in a comedy show,
while Yoongi's is very slight,
like there's a weight on his shoulders
trying to keep them still.

   "Okay.
   Give me around
   twenty minutes."

   My sister looks at me
   as if she also feels
deep inside
   that what Mama is doing
   is betraying
   who we thought she was.

   "Okay.
   Thank you, Oppa."

I nod
and go into the kitchen
as two bold memories
fight against each other
to determine
what emotion I should be feeling.

In the end,
I end up feeling
drained.

.

.

.

   I watch as
   my sister eats the dinner I made
   like she hasn't had any food
   in days.

   Meanwhile,
   I'm taking slices of the chicken
   and chewing them
   until I can focus back on
   what they taste like.

   "You're not talking to your friends."
   I observe out loud.

   "Yeah."
   She scoffs.
   "What's that to you?"

   My sister often acts like this to me;
   like I'm a stranger
   who helps her
   and her friends
   are her siblings.

   "Is dinner good?"

   I don't ask that
   because I'm unsure of my cooking,
   but because I want her
   to give me
   a friendly response.

   She nods
   without looking at me.

   "...Am I doing something wrong?"

   She shakes her head.

   "It's just-..."

   She sighs.
   "I dunno."

   I raise an eyebrow.

   I remember
   when that would make her laugh.
   Now she just glances at me
   like I'm trying to be attractive.

   "It's a girl problem.
   You wouldn't understand."

   She stands
   and walks up to her room.

   I don't tell her to come back
   because she finished most of her food.

   My eyes are still looking at the staircase
   as I silently hope that
   she changes her mind
   and comes back downstairs.

   My sister says that phrase a lot to me,
   which makes me wonder
   if the girl problem
   is talking to me—
   a boy—
   about her regular problems.

   I've never really understood why
   girls are both defensive yet sensitive
   around boys.
   Emotionally,
   girls and boys aren't that far apart.
   They just express them
   differently.

   My sister knows that
   I'd never make fun of her
   for feeling a certain way about something.

   Yet she still talks to people
   who would make fun of the fact
   that she feels anything at all.