1979
"Stevie said Mom said it was okay," Vera blurts out before her brain and mouth can stop her. Her heart skips a beat and plummets into her stomach, twisting when his large eyes turn to hers.
"Is that true?" She feels her stomach acid bubbling against her navel, so she jumps up and runs toward the stairs. She knows that she threw him to the wolves, and she's aware of the punishment he'll face because of her, but she doesn't know why she lied or why she was afraid of her parents.
Lately, she's felt a string of unknown emotions masquerading behind anger, vexation, and tenderness in certain parts of her body. Stress-induced shedding, cravings for Snickers bars and Tab sodas—ironically enough, she prefers Pepsi or Sprite instead—bloating, acne on her face as well as on her back.
Sauvera nudges the door shut behind her when she enters her room, but it doesn't completely close. She mopes toward her dresser with her lips parted, then leans against it with her forearms on the surface and her breath burning her skin.
Shortly after Judith was placed in Red Cave, she awoke to blood-tinged sheets and pajama pants. Beforehand, she felt as ill as she does at that moment—sometimes worse—but lacked the guidance to help herself or the knowledge of what was happening.
"Pull yourself together, Vee," she mutters to herself, shuddering as she forces the words out. She watches goosebumps rise on her arms as they lift her tiny hairs, then she turns her head to her porcelain doll sitting on her bed.
She sniffles, exhaling air that soothes her tense body and looks at the surface of her Victorian vanity. Wooden brushes, combs, pearls, and buttons are neatly separated in small woven baskets near the top left corner's edge. She reaches for a brush, carries it to her bed, and sits on the edge. Lifting her Betty Brunette doll in one arm, she brushes her raven hair from roots to tips while humming Tired of Me by The Skyliners.
With it come memories of her older sister. The first time they heard it was on the car radio in nineteen seventy-six on Judy's sweet sixteen. She recalls them riding to the Grand Canyon to celebrate her entry into adulthood and envying the moments she shared with their aunts, Stacey, and their mother. Moments and conversations deemed grown-folks talk-slash-business.
"Vera!" Her breath hitches in her throat when she hears her brother call her name, and she whips her head to him, clutching the brush.
Shit!
"Stevie, what the hell," she whisper yells. Seeing him peek through the crack of her door makes her skin crawl. She lets out a faint scoff, then stands to her feet, leaving her doll and brush in her place. She walks closer to him, noticing the dark look he's giving her, which makes her mentally roll her eyes. "Get away from my door!"
"Why'd you lie to Mom and Dad?" She doesn't know what to say, so she merely rolls her eyes at his question and folds her arms under her chest. Usually, he doesn't respond to her uncouth attitude, but she can tell he's full of wrath when he flares his nostrils and takes a deep breath. "You're so unbelievably selfish. He's gonna beat me for something you did, not me."
Wow, classic Stevie. He just has to make everything my fault.
She thinks, adding emphasis on my.
"Oh, please, you came in after me to watch TV too. If it wasn't allowed, why didn't you say something?" When he doesn't answer, she steps closer and fills the gap between them with a mocking grin on her heart-shaped face. Stevie scans her from her thick Senegalese twists to her socks before shaking his head at her.
Is he really looking down his nose at me? My eyes must be acting up today.
"Aren't you — je ne sais pas — older," she asks with the expectation of getting under his skin, but when he doesn't react, she gnashes her teeth behind her smile. Without thinking, she says, "But hey, I get it. It must suck being the reason Judy tried to kill herself. So, what, now you're trying to stay in control or something?"
Finally, he emotes. She watches his jaw drop, and, in her head, she hears applause at her efforts to anger him paying off. In her moment of gloating, she doesn't stop to think about what she said. He's silent at first, and the longer he doesn't speak, the more it becomes deafening. She racks her brain for something else to say, whether cruel or not, but nothing comes to mind in time.
"I hate you," he mumbles, and her elation falters before it fades. He gains enough confidence to raise his voice and straighten his posture. "I don't know what your problem is with me, but you know what? I won't be here long enough to piss you off anymore, and when I'm gone, don't act like you cared."
He's just fucking with me.
She flickers her irises from one of his to the other, searching for the gentleness that used to be behind them, but all she sees is darkness and the fury that she assumes is due to her. She replays the night he found Judith. When he screamed, she raced up the stairs before their parents could process his reaction, and her mind was filled with countless conclusions as to why he reacted that way; all ended with him dying. Tears well up on the brims of her eyes, her lips begin to quiver, and her shoulders rise and fall with each trembling breath.
Just say you didn't mean it.
"She's coming home." They look to the stairs when they hear their mother speak, and her voice cracks again when she says, "Our baby's coming home."
Judy?
They meet each other's solemn gaze, yet only he wipes his eyes. Hers follow him to the banister, watching him step carefully through the darkness to avoid the floor creaking. Sauvera wipes her falling tears, then sniffles before she follows in his footsteps.
When you get there, just say you're sorry. You don't even gotta say it in words. We're twins, he'll know it when he looks at me.
She takes a deep breath as she slows beside him. His hands rest on the railing, and his eyes are cast down on their mother. She's wailing in Walter's arms, and he's caressing her back in a feeble attempt to calm her. Though he's lost in his head, she stares at the side of his eye, waiting for it to dart toward her.
I can't say it. Just—say it with your eyes. We used to talk that way all the time when we were little, so he's bound to understand.
"Dry your eyes." Vera takes a deep breath, eventually accepting that he won't look at her. She licks her lips, then bites the lower one as more tears trickle off her lashes, and Walter says, "Let's take the kids and head to Piggly Wiggly. Judy still likes red velvet cakes, right?"
Just forget it. It's not like he'd be brave enough to say sorry back. Even if he did, he'd probably be lying.
"I don't know." Vera rolls her eyes as she shifts her body away from the scene. Facing the direction of their rooms, she roams through the void in search of hers. Faintly, she hears Sheryl conclude, "She's been gone for so long, I don't know if she'd gotten smaller, taller — happier. I hadn't seen her yet, but I already feel like a stranger is on her way to us."
I don't even know why I'm sad right now. He's the one who's unbelievably selfish. I'm dealing with a lot too, but does he care? For a self-proclaimed older brother, he sucks at his job.
Engrossed in her attempt to tarnish him, she carelessly steps on an old board in front of her room, and it creaks. She turns to her twin as he diverts his attention to her.
Oh, now he wants to look at me. Well, I'm not apologizing.
He rolls his eyes at her and they stop on the ceiling. Her flicker wider and she inhales to whisper yell, "Je te déteste aussi, Stevie!"
She feels her throat tighten and a vein throbbing in her left temple. Stevie looks at her, and she notices his jaw tightening, a gesture he'd often make before he would hit her.
Shit, why'd I say that?
Sauvera dips into her room as he approaches, covering more ground than he did before.
Shut the door. Shut the door!
She slams the door shut as he sticks his hand into the gap, and when she sees his fingers clutch the door frame, her mouth falls open and time seems to stop. She knows her brother better than most, and what no one knows is how prone to violence he is because he hides it well. When they're alone and he's angry, he would strike her hard enough to knock her onto the floor and sometimes pull her hair. A year prior, when they were twelve, he pushed her into her vanity, and the back of her head collided with the mirror. That was added to the list of incidents she never spoke of.
She hears his muffled groans and reluctantly retracts the door to look at him, but when she does, he shoves his hands against her chest, pushing her onto her backside. With her hands beside her hips, she stares at him with her lips agape and tears threatening her widened eyes. He glares at her as Walter asks, "You two wanna get dressed? We're heading to the store."
She wants to run downstairs and tell them what he's done, but she knows how her father would react. If Walter took a belt to Stevie, Stevie—with enough vigor to kill her—would inflict the same amount of pain on her, if not worse. So, she relaxes her face to appear stoic yet inhales a shaky breath.
Don't be afraid of him, Vee.
"If you wanna fight," she says, grunting as she pushes herself to her feet. She folds her arms and continues, "Dites-moi quand and I'll be more than willing to kick the shit out of just — like — Kenickie."
She pokes his chest each time she pauses. The first time, he doesn't react, but when she does it again, he slaps her hand. She mentally scoffs and pictures herself smirking. Her assumption that his sudden passiveness is due to him backing down results in her reaching to grab his jaw, and when he shoves her onto her back, he knocks the wind out of her lungs.
She's trembling as if she's cold, and her heart's pounding harder than ever. Every part of her is screaming for her to run downstairs for her parents, unaware that they're gone, but she refuses to show weakness.
"You're dead," she asserts through gnashed teeth.