Rest Easy

I wish for days of epic romances she told me. For days when the world makes sense again. When love is real and pure and honest and people don't remember that divorce once existed, much less tore most families apart. That's what she told me as I held her hand. Her smile was gentle and peaceful. My hands were shaking and she looked at me and told me to rest easy. Rest easy. Of all things for her to say.

"I was sixteen when it happened. She came into my room and told me dad was leaving. I looked her in the eyes with all the cold malice I could muster from my heart and I told her I knew. I had always known it was inevitable. He was having an affair with the cute secretary with the 'busty babe' tits. Mom tried to play innocent but I think dad knew just as well that she preferred Jim, my brother's best friend's dad. Neither of them seemed to care, seemed to give two shits that they were hurting each other, much less us. Derek was in the next room over. I was sure dad was probably talking to him. They had it backwards though. Send mom , the gentle one to tell the daughter. But it was Derek who was the soft one in the family. It was him who couldn't handle the pain. He was the one who would get hurt.

But how could they know that? How could they know I hated them both, thought them weak and stupid. Sixteen years old and I saw things clearer than them. Derek would be the one to cry, but he'd do it in the silence of the dark or in the comfort of my arms. That was something only we could understand. The comfort of a sibling. My parents didn't get us. They never did. Even now, six hundred miles apart from each other and we still know each other better than ever.  I don't think mom even realizes I still talk to Derek. She doesn't. Why would she? She got what she thought she wanted from the custody agreement. Her precious little angel. She wanted to believe I was the good child because I wasn't failing school and acting out, getting arrested on the weekends for shoplifting. She wanted the star child with straight A's in school and a scholarship to any state university.

She wanted me to wear dresses and look pretty but the truth was so much different. The truth was that I was hateful and spiteful and held a grudge. I just didn't care about anything. That's why I worked hard, that's why I achieved anything and everything. Because deep down I had so little freedom, so little appreciation that the only left to do was work hard, to be the 'perfect' daughter. I wasn't Derek, who needed the love and the support. I wasn't Derek who was acting out for attention as some silent plea for help. I wasn't Derek who needed someone, anyone. Who needed his sister.

All I wanted was to feel real. To see something worthwhile in this cesspool they call life. Love is overrated, nobody truly keeps anything sacred anymore. The media is a propaganda machine for the idiots of society. The blind and the stupid. I despise them most of all. Not the people themselves but the idea they represent. All they stand for is how much you aren't good enough at something. You're either not democrat or republican enough. Or you're not Christian or Muslim or Catholic. Hell, while we're at it, you're not white, or black, or Mexican. Who really fucking cares anymore? Because that's all people see anymore. This society is a failure of life itself. We are no longer defined by who we are but what our affiliations are. Republicans are republicans just as democrats are just democrats. Military members aren't humans, they're just military members. You wear skimpy shorts? Skank. You're a guy and you want to meet a chick? Hell yeah, let's go get laid.

Society is disgraceful and distrustful and decaying. People don't see themselves anymore. They base their assumptions on the title of the article without actually taking the time to read it. And in the end it all means nothing. Because none of this matters. No matter what I write, none of it makes a difference. I'm still here and Derek is still there. My parents are still divorced and nobody cares about the word of a nineteen year old girl. Even if she is dieing."

As I finished reading the entry I felt more alone than I ever had in my life. Six hundred miles apart and she had known exactly how I'd felt. This meant more to me than anything else. I looked from the altar and glanced back at the coffin. "Jessy…" My sister had been everything in my life. Nobody else had seen me. Nobody else had even cared to look. My mom wasn't crying anymore. From my seat in the second row I'd heard her sobs the entire reception. My dad was drunk a few seats down. No surprise there. He'd paid almost no attention until now. But now they both saw the truth. They now saw her two year lie. She'd never cared enough to live. She'd simply given up.

I turned and set my hand on the coffin. "I see you Jessy. I always did. Thank you." The journal lay open, hanging open in my hand. I'd never bothered to actually set it on the altar. But its task was done here. I closed the journal and stepped down from the podium. Everyone stared in dumbstruck silence and for the first time that I could remember in years I smiled. It was a smile for me. I didn't care what they thought. Not of me and definitely not of her. They didn't deserve her respect. They had never earned it. Not like I had. I can't remember the look on my mom's face anymore. All I remember is that it was an ugly one. My dad just stared off in grief stricken silence. I'd stopped beside the row they sat at for a moment and took one last glance at the coffin. "Goodbye sis. Rest easy." I whispered. It was meant only for her. And then I walked from the church.