I got up from the table and hugged my mom. “I'm okay now. Thanks.”
My mom just smiled at me as she lightly touched my cheek. As I made my way to Georgia's room, my mother followed quietly behind me. I stopped briefly outside my sister's door to take a deep breath and to steel myself. I glanced at my mom only to have her give me a reassuring smile, and then we entered the room together.
It was painful to see my sister's despair. Her sobs ripped at my heart and I struggled to control my own tears. It was hard to realize that I was the weakest link here; the rest of my family was able to focus on Carolina and ignore their own sense of loss. I wished desperately to be like them, but I was failing. All I could do was to cradle my sister in my arms and weep along with her.
When Carolina finally cried herself out, she mercifully feel asleep from her exhausted state. Our mom stayed at her bedside reading, just in case she woke up and needed her. I knew this was one of the ways our mom, Virginia tried to console herself; a way for her to deal with her own grief and pain. I knew she felt as helpless as the rest of us, but she was so stable and dependable that she seemed to transcend her woes.
Georgia and I were sitting at the kitchen table with our dad, John. Though we had a lovely living room, we always seemed to convene in the kitchen when we needed each other. It made me think of the old traditions of sitting around the hearth, but I knew it was deeper than that. This was where our family came together; where we connected.
Georgia looked drained as she drank from her steaming cup of coffee. She had helped Carolina through the first difficult moments after being told that Roger was mortally wounded in Afghanistan when his motorcade was ambushed. She had been the rock that steadied Carolina, holding her firmly in her time of need, but now Georgia looked weary from her efforts. She was solemn in demeanor and ragged in appearance from the emotional toll.
Though we were all close to our parents, there was a bond between us sisters that was deeper than even our bond with our folks. I think mom and dad encouraged that in us for many reasons because they often held back, giving us space to work things through without them. They wanted us to be strong and unified; to be independent and resourceful.
I once asked my mom why they didn't really engage with us when we had issues to work through. At the time she had told me it was because we needed to learn to problem solve. I thought that was a rather simplistic response, but I understood it better as time went on. I understood that they were preparing us for life without them. I didn't like knowing that, but it was reality.
People didn't last forever and death is inevitable. Our parents wanted us to know how to survive without them though they wanted us girls to be bonded. I believed it comforted my folks to know that the three of us sisters would still be together even when our parents were no longer around. Though I hated to think of anyone's mortality, especially my mom and dad's, I understood the necessity of their choice.
Georgia was a natural born leader, so it was natural for her to assume responsibility for her younger siblings. She had a strength that was absent from both Carolina and my character. I wouldn't say we were weak, but that we weren't as confident as our older sister. Georgia just seemed to know how to separate her emotions from her logic, enabling her to function effectively no matter what she faced.
I was never certain if Georgia was so strong because she didn't want to seem weak or because she really was that confident? Our dad had always taught us that right or wrong, you needed to make a decision and stick with it; indecision can get you killed. He said all the best leaders were decisive and that was a part of being in command. I think Georgia took this to heart more than the rest of us.
Carolina seemed to be the counter balance to Georgia. All the rough, coarse edges of one sister seemed softened by the existence of the other. They were almost like the flip sides of the same coin and it bonded them in a way that even separated them from me sometimes. Still, my sisters and I seemed to draw calming energy from one another, summoning strength just being near each other. Though I wasn't sure how I fit into the scheme of things, I knew that I belonged and that felt pretty good.
I sipped my hot tea, thankful for the chamomile that soothed my tensions. I knew we'd eventually live past this horrible time, but for now, it seemed overwhelming. More so, it just seemed senseless to me. Why did we need to fight wars at all?
“Why can't people just live in peace, respecting each other?” I threw my concern out into the universe, not addressing anyone in particular.
Georgia gave me a brief, joyless smile to indicate her understanding of my sentiment. I didn't realize until that moment that Georgia was thinking the same thing as I was. Our brother-in-law was dead and our sister was in mourning because people sucked. That wasn't a good enough reason for me and acknowledging that made me feel angry.
“There are many different reasons for war, darling,” dad replied.
“Really, like what?” I asked in annoyance.
“Territory, resources, competition,” dad responded.
I shook my head in frustration. “Not good enough reasons for me to kill.”
My dad was a man of great wisdom and tremendous patience. He seemed to understand the human condition in ways that I couldn't even fathom. He was able to see the heart of a situation and understand it. Furthermore, he was able to read people and see them for who they really were. I admired that ability, especially since that was not a gift I was blessed with.
“Dakota, humans are essentially beasts and like all beasts, we have primal urges. It is an innate part of our being that pushes us to violence.”
“Beasts, really? That's dumb,” I snapped, getting up to get more tea. I felt edgy and obviously needed more chamomile.
Georgia adjusted in her seat, but she just seemed too tired to try to join our conversation. Our dad was not so inclined and continued our discussion by saying, “Humans are animals and like all animals, we are capable of doing wondrous things or things truly horrific. A person who feels desperate, terrified, or cornered will revert to their instincts and lash out. Violence is usually a physical manifestation of feeling threatened and vulnerable.”
“Dad, I get that. I really do, but that is extreme and in our modern society, there should be no need to feel that desperate and threatened. We have so much at our disposal,” I countered.
“That's not really true, honey,” my dad informed me. “Our world is only capable of supporting a finite population. We have limited resources and unfortunately, we have allowed our species to grow beyond our means.”
“What are you saying exactly, dad?” I wasn't sure I was happy with the picture my dad was painting me.
“War is a means of population control,” he told me directly, bluntly.
Like Georgia, dad was a straight-shooter. My oldest sister got her ability to command her emotions and wield her wisdom from him. She had inherited her strength and character from our father, just as Carolina had inherited her compassion and humanity from our mother.
“That's sick,” I complained. “Do you really think that?”
“Yes,” my dad told me honestly.
“Me too,” Georgia said, looking me square in the eyes.
I felt a little stunned. Though I could see their point, I was mortified at the idea of killing good, innocent people for the sake of population control. Still, we did that with other species, like deer for example. That was why we spayed and neutered cats and dogs or even euthanized some; population control. It was why some countries opted to limit the amount of children a family could give birth to.
“It's a hard reality,” our dad said, “though necessary.”
“People didn't live as long in the past. With the advent of medicine and technology, we haven't just extended people's lives, but we've lowered the infant mortality rate. Our population is growing at an astounded rate,” Georgia finally chimed in with her two cents.
“So that is enough to justify killing? That's enough to accept Roger's senseless death?
” I was irritated and beyond angry. This was bullshit and I resented them for saying it to me.
“Yes,” Georgia replied simply.
“You're a bitch, Georgia!” I said viciously. I was still standing next to the counter, too stressed to sit.
“You're only proving our point, little sister,” Georgia told me calmly.
It took me a minute to absorb what she said, but when I did, I felt ridiculous. I realized that in my agitated emotional state, I was moving into the “fight or fight” response. This was indeed proving the point my dad and sister were trying to make.
“Violence is an innate response,” my dad repeated. “Whether a threat is real or imagined, large or small, the biological response is the same.”
I felt a bit defeated and extremely unhappy. “This still doesn't explain or justify Roger's death.”
“It's all we have,” Georgia told me, to which I scoffed without looking at her.
“Dakota, everybody dies. It's natural,” Georgia replied calmly as she got up to put her mug in the sink.
Georgia put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently as a show of support. She was much kinder than I deserved, especially after calling her a bitch. She hadn't deserved my outburst or my accusation. After all, I wasn't really angry at her.
“I know,” I told her. Looking up at her I added, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell or call you names.”
“I know,” she said, smiling at me as a show of reassurance. Then before returning to the table, she grabbed some celery sticks from the fridge and rinsed them off. She offered me some of the celery as she sat down.
My dad was watching us closely. He seemed content with how our exchanged progressed and he finally added, “Don't fear death, Dakota. If you live in fear of dying then you will never truly live at all.”
“Perhaps, but none of this brings Roger back. How I chose to live doesn't justify his death or Carolina's suffering,” I pointed out sadly.
“And yet they're connected,” our dad countered.
“How?” I inquired. “How are these things connected?”
I was just playing with the piece of celery my sister offered me. I didn't feel hungry though I knew I should eat something. I just felt so restless and tense. The chamomile obviously hadn't helped at all.
“Roger was a soldier, just as I am. We both understood that our careers would put us in harm's way, bringing our inevitable ends closer than they otherwise might have been. Still, we selected to be soldiers, despite all the dangers, so we could give everyone a chance to a better life.”
“Dakota,” Georgia injected, calling my attention to her. “It hurts to lose someone you love, but they wouldn't want you to stop living. They wouldn't want their sacrifice to be in vain.”
“Roger understood the risks, both in what he did and what could happen if he didn't fight for what he felt was right,” our dad added. “He also knew that if anything happened, Carolina would have us.”
“None of this makes me feel any better and I doubt it'll make Carolina feel better either,” I commented truthfully.
“It's not meant to make you feel better,” Georgia told me. “It's just meant to help you to understand so you can accept what is and move forward.”
A fresh wave of tears began to trickle down my face. My dad reached over to wipe away my tears while Georgia got up to grab me some paper towels. Sometimes life just seemed so chaotic and stupid. Sometimes nothing seemed to make sense and it all seemed useless. However, the spark of life was strong and my desire to continue pushed me past my sorrow and my agitation.
“How do you let go?” I asked. “It hurts so much. I miss Roger and worse, it hurts to even think about Carolina, let alone look at her.”
“You have to learn to control your emotions,” Georgia told me.
“You cannot change what is,” our dad told me. “You can only control how you react and what you do or say about it.”
“I can't just ignore how I feel,” I countered.
“That's not what we're advising you to do,” my dad told me. “We're just saying that you need to choose to accept this and to embrace your pain so that you can move beyond it. You need to choose to be stronger than your emotions for the sake of your sister. Her needs are greater than yours.”
“Now I just feel like an ass,” I groaned in frustration.
“No, darling,” our mother said as she entered the room. “You're just human.”
My mother smiled warmly at me and walked over to kiss the top of my head. As she placed her hands on my shoulders, standing behind me, she addressed us all. “Carolina is awake and she is asking for her sisters.”
Georgia and I looked at one another as we got up from the table together. I felt my oldest sister willing me to find my strength, but I was afraid I'd fail. Carolina needed us and I was worried I wouldn't be strong enough to help her through. It made me feel selfish and inept.
I glanced back at our mom and she said, “It's okay. Everything will be okay.”
My dad nodded in agreement and Georgia reached out to take my hand, “come on.”
As we walked towards Georgia's bedroom door to where Carolina rested, I felt myself locking up my emotions. My older sister needed me and I wouldn't fail her. I was taught control and to think, so that was what I would do. I would control my feelings and think only of my sister and her needs. I could do this because I loved Carolina more than I loved myself.
When we entered the bedroom, Carolina was sitting up in bed. She looked tattered and disheveled; everything about her screamed in agony. Though I had been scared, somehow I found I was able to endure; that Carolina was also enduring gave me hope.
“Mom said you wanted us,” Georgia commented.
“Yes,” Carolina replied in a tiny, raspy voice. She reached towards us, gesturing us to join her on the bed.
As we huddled into a sisterly embrace, I asked, “Are you okay?”
Carolina nodded, though tears silently trailed down her cheeks.
In that moment, realization dawned for me. I understood that my presence and my shared sorrow were in themselves healing. I had worried that I was being weak or that I wasn't strong, but I was exactly who and what my sister needed me to be. I was exactly enough to help Carolina in her time of need.
Georgia was a tower of defiance to the challenges of the world. She gave Carolina courage and the will to overcome all obstacles. Though it had taken me a while to comprehend all this, I now saw that I gave my sister an anchor. I let her know she wasn't alone in her pain and that I'd hold her tightly, keeping her secured and comforted.
I had a new respect for my parents and the insights they had. Their wisdom never ceased to astound me. As my sisters and I held each other, I saw how we fit together. Carolina's compassion ensured Georgia's empathy. Georgia's logic ensured Carolina's sanity. I was the tether between them, the common ground. Alone we weren't much, but together, we were everything.
Though it took some time, we moved on; each day seemed to get easier and was filled with less sorrow. The void created by Roger's death was ever present and it was obvious that it would never heal. Worse yet, it was obvious that a large piece of Carolina had died with Roger, but we all found our way somehow. We were scarred, but we were alive.
Though Carolina was growing stronger and learning to live without her soul mate, she was different. She lacked the joy that had radiated from her before. As she learned to laugh again and reengage in everyday life, she lacked the luster she had once had. She was like pure silver tarnished by the harsh oxidation of the world. Still, we all took one step at a time, each day as it came, and moved beyond yesterday, through today, and towards tomorrow.
Chapter Ten
The school year was always hectic, so it seemed to speed past. Since the holiday seasons followed close on the heels of school reopening its doors, that just added to the chaos. It really was like that silly saying about how “life is like a roll of toilet paper” because the closer I got to the end of the semest
er, not to mention year, the faster it all seemed to go. Yay for toilet humor; true and reliably funny!
I loved this time of year more than any other. I loved the autumn tones that colored our world in beautiful shades. I always enjoyed driving around to see the changing of the leaves, intrigued by the death of summer and the birth of winter. It was an exciting time of year, filled with wonder.
I wasn't much of a holiday person, though we did celebrate somewhat in our family. We celebrated a lot more when my grandparents were living, but now, we seemed to have more conflicts in scheduling that prevented us from doing things traditionally. Besides, with dad being in the military and mom working in healthcare, they still had to work regardless of what time of year it was.
Our low-key approach to the holidays also benefited my sister, Carolina. The holiday season was especially difficult on her since it was the first year without Roger. Though we all missed him terribly, the holiday cheer made Carolina more aware of his absence. As people talked about families getting together and sharing time together, Carolina returned to crying herself to sleep and her eating slackened, causing her to lose weight she couldn't afford to lose.
My sister tried to maintain outward appearances, but she wasn't fooling anyone. We could see how the season took a toll on her, draining the little life that had started to return to her. She never really moped or complained, that wasn't her style, but she just seemed… joyless and empty, like she was just moving through the motions. Her smiles never reached her eyes and never filled with happiness.
The arrival of Labor Day went by without much notice. The most attention I think it got was that Rae complained about it lightly. She said that Labor Day was like the official announcement that summer was over. I guess she was sort of right about that, though I knew the history of the holiday.
I knew that this day was set aside to honor the contributions made to our country by its working class; the people who made our nation run. These were some of the very people who were being laid off and displaced. The American worker seemed a rare commodity these days and our economy showed it. I couldn't help thinking that if our people were to rededicate themselves to the prosperity of our nation, that we'd really be great again.
A Ripple of Fear (Fear of Dakota #1) Page 15
