Seeing You Seeing Me

He Doesn't Know My Life

School has been the same mostly. Everyday is a daily rountine. I get up, get my clothes on, run downstairs, eat a bowl of cereal, kiss my sister on the head as she lays silently on the couch, her robot Stanley connected to her. That's what we call her drip; she has stage 2 heart cancer. She hasn't gone to school in 2 years.
She always tells me she misses school. She misses our walks. She misses telling me her secrets. She misses baking with me and jumping into the local family pool. And trust me, I miss doing all of that as well.
Her smile has faded over the years. She's changed physically, but mentally, she's still my little Riley.
I mean, I haven't got to tell her all about how amazing grade 5 and 6 is. And answer all her burning questions.
Like, "are the teachers kind? Just like grade four?"
Or,
"Are there a bunch of books lining the walls?"

I try to tell myself that Riley will be better soon. And that she will be right back to finishing grade four and heading right to grade five, where she left off.
But I just don't know when it will happen.
I want it now. Riley wants it now.

I sit down next to her, and rub her head, her bandages rubbing against my palms.
"I like your hair today," she mutters.
I smile at her.
"What about my outfit? What's good about that?"
She looks slowly down from where she's lying.
"It's nice. I like the jeans. Are they supposed to be ripped?"
"Of course! It's a style!" I laugh, and quickly turn my head when I hear my father.
"Alexandra, that's enough for now," he says. He always stops me from talking to Riley for too long. He isn't my father. He's my stepfather.
I've always accepted him. He's good.
He's treated me well. And he's always treated Riley and my mother well. He even brought along a dog, a German Shepard named Duke. He has a brown patch around his left eye, and his fur is so soft. I remember cuddling deep into his fluff and falling asleep.
"I'm sorry," I nodded. "We were just talking about my outfit-"
"Good, good. But remember, Riley doesn't always-" he stops, and goes quiet. "She doesn't always have what you have."
I looked back at Riley, staring at the TV nonchalantly.
I mean, that's not what I meant when I was talking with Riley. She enjoyed talking about that stuff. She was a little fashionista. I'd know that better than him.