White Orchids {BOOK 1 COMPLETED}

Chapter 2 - (part 2)

You can hear the music from the first floor, they're playing Känn ingen sorg för mig Göteborg by Håkan Hellström on high volume, the voices of the guests are mixed in with the music. I can see Emma in the mirror. She's sitting on the bed and biting her nails, dressed in a blue dress that reaches her knees, with a white cardigan. The blonde hair is up in a messy hair bun. I've helped her with the make-up, it looks natural and beautiful. That's all that is needed. She made sure that I knew that she didn't want any attention under the party, so she could melt into the background.

     I straighten out the brown skirt and the yellow sweater. It looks like Emma won't be able to handle most parts of the party.

     "If it becomes too much, then you know that you can always come back up here and close the door until you feel you can go down again," I say.

     She moves her mouth in a way that makes me think she wants to say something. She gets up from the bed with her hands tightly clasped together. Her whole body looks tense, like she will crack any second. The guest will definitely notice her nervosity, and she'll stand out whether she wants to or not.

     I put my hands gently over her shoulders. "Relax, it's going to be fine."

     She does not relax, if anything she seems more nervous. I grab her wrist and leads her to the slightly opened door. Emma takes a deep breath, we go down the stairs and into the living room. 

    Mom and Anders have put a bigger table in the living room, one that holds all eleven guests. The plates are filled with potato wedges and honey-glazed ribs, and in the middle of the table stands two large bowls with salad. Next to one of them there is a vase with white orchids. It was Anders that had bought them earlier today for mom, she had forced a smile when he gave them to her. We associated them – and would probably always do so – with dad. She hadn't said anything, she put that fake smile on her lips and thanked him with a kiss. It was also what she had done when dad died. She smiled and acted like she was okay when others where around. She spoke of dad and the memories they had with love, but never how she felt, or how she dealt with his death. When she thought she was alone I could hear her cry, a few times I had heard her screaming. But that had only been the first weeks.

     Emma pokes a potato wedge with her fork, she doesn't want to eat with people nearby. Anton, who is eleven looks strangely at Emma and ask his mother why she's not eating, Veronica – Anders' little sister – gives him a strict look.

     Emma ignores them and the rest of the conversations the guests are having. They are talking about all sorts of things, about the unusual hot weather lately, about Veronica's new job and about the new house mom and Anders bought. Emma looks like she wants to disappear. She cuts of a small piece of the potato wedge and slowly moves it towards the mouth and chews it just as slowly.

     I join their unending conversations about the weather. I don't think it can get more Swedish than this, the only thing that is missing would be herring and potatoes, or maybe a crayfish party.

     I laugh and play along; I smile and pretend that I don't have to put almost all my attention on my big sister. Occasionally I throw a glance towards Emma to see how she looks like. She gets paler for every second, but it seems like she's enduring it.

     It's exhausting. If I didn't have the constant need to watch over Emma this would have been child's play. I've never had problems with it before, it's easy to shut out negative feelings if I need to, at least until I'm alone and I can breathe out again. I can't do that now, I have to be on constant watch. Neither can I show them what I'm actually thinking, so I continue to smile and laugh even if the muscles in my face is opposing.