Sisters Don't Tell

by Deena Lipomi

  “Get out of here. Now!” I try to move him with my energy, my words. “I swear I’ll call the cops on you if you ever come here again. I’ll do it. I’ll do it right now!”

  Harris backs away.

  “GO!” I yell, no longer caring who may hear.

  He jogs to his car as the truck turns into my driveway. Devon hops out and watches the Buick roar away from the curb.

  I inhale the warm evening air to stop my shaking. It doesn’t work. Devon appears beside me.

  “Who was that?” Devon asks.

  “Uh, no one. Wrong house.”

  Crickets chirp in the rose bushes.

  “Are you OK?” He uncrosses my arms, which were hugging myself, and takes my hands in his.

  “I’m fine.” I force a smile.

  “Good. Hey, how about bowling tonight? Some of the guys are going. You can ask Kasey if she wants to come?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t.” I mean to explain but my words are lodged behind my horror, shock, and general hatred at seeing Harris.

  Devon’s face falls. “Oh.”

  I breathe and regain my words. “We can still hang out here for a little while. Then I need to do something with Annie. Mom wants me to spend time with her tonight.” I squeeze his strong hands, not caring that his nails are dirty with car grease. “Mom and I got into a big fight about it.”

  “That sucks. Are you sure you’re OK?”

  Tears threaten my eyes. “I’ll be fine. It’s just been a crappy night. I’m bad company right now. Tomorrow night we can go out, I promise.” I force another smile and feel like a liar.

  I am a liar.

  “All right,” he says, unconvinced, and then quickly pecks my lips.

  It’s a tease for what I really need.

  “I’ll go hang with Josh, then,” he says.

  I stop myself from begging Devon to stay just for an hour, long enough to help me calm down and remember the good parts of my life (the parts involving him). But it’s my fault for cancelling on him, my fault for driving him away. My fault for lying about Harris.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says before saying good night.

  “Good night.” Tears burn behind my eyelids. I get them under control before trudging inside to live out my sentence.

  Annie’s room is dark, like it’s a short, grey winter day instead of a long, bright summer one. The lights are off, the blinds are closed, and the curtains are drawn.

  “Annie?” I say with an exhausted sigh. When my eyes adjust, I see her body under her sheet. It’s creepy, the way she isn’t moving. “Are you awake?”

  She pokes the top of her head out from under the sheet. “Yes.”

  “Want to download a movie? Or go to the Cinemaster?”

  Her voice is muffled. “No.”

  “Come on Annie, you can’t stay up here all day and night.”

  “Why aren’t you out with Devon?”

  “I told him I didn’t feel like going out tonight.” Another lie.

  “You’re feeling sorry for me.”

  “No. You and I just haven’t hung out in forever,” I say.

  “I heard Mom freaking out. I’m fine,” Annie says. “Go out with Devon.”

  “Annie, come on.” She flinches when I flip on the light. As much as admitting Mom is right pains me like a food processor blade to the thumb, staying locked in this depressing room is not good for her.

  Annie picks a thread at the edge of her sheet. Her hair is greasy and unwashed, and her face is pale and thin. Her sketchbook lays at the foot of her bed, open to an angel drawn with grey and black colored pencils. The angel has big eyes, big tears, and a swollen belly.

  “I don’t want to have this baby.”

  My heart stops for a beat.

  “Mom’ll think I’m horrible.”

  Mom thinks getting pregnant is a miracle since she could only do it once.

  “I can’t tell her or she’ll hate me.”

  The only sound between us is the sprinkler in the backyard and the crickets chirping through the open window.

  “Will you go with me, Mel? To the Parenthood Clinic?”

  Annie wants me to help her through an abortion when we’ve barely talked in two years? Maybe she could’ve warmed up with, “Will you teach me how to bake a cake?”

  “Go with Mom,” I say, knowing this is a ridiculous suggestion.

  “I don’t want to tell her,” Annie says. “Not until it’s done. I don’t want someone else to hate me.”

  “Someone else?” I ask.

  “Justine, Chloe, Samara, Harris, you.”

  I sigh. “I’m not mad at you.” What I feel can’t really be put into words. “I just don’t think I can go.”

  “Why not?”

  I don’t have a good answer. “I’ll ask Kasey. She’ll go with you.” She’s used to birthing centers, even if they are for four-legged mammals.

  Now Annie sighs. “Kasey’s not my sister.”

  They are the words I’ve been waiting for, and what I might now regret receiving.

  Annie needs me.

  I put on my brave face. “When are we going?”

  Chapter 15

  Annie insisted we could sneak out of the house this morning and make it to the Parenthood Clinic downtown without our parents finding out. I didn’t have a better idea so here I am, rolling out of bed at 5:45 AM so we can get to the clinic when they open at 7:00 AM.

  “Are you OK?” I whisper to Annie as we brush our teeth. We filled cups with water before bed so we wouldn’t have to run the sink for too long and alert Mom or Dad that we’re up and on the move.

  Annie swishes water around her mouth, spits, and shrugs. Her grey pallor and darkly underlined eyes tell me she’s not.

  I tiptoe downstairs and leave a note on the kitchen table saying Annie and I are “hanging out.” Mom should be so thrilled I got Annie out of the house that she won’t obsess about where we are. Hopefully.

  A minute later Annie joins me in the kitchen. With a nod we unlock the patio door since it doesn’t squeak like the front one and sneak out to the backyard. I barely exhale until we’re safely around the corner and the #48 bus rumbles down the street. The bus spits exhaust into our faces as it breaks to a halt, and we climb on board, me behind Annie, the only ones at the bus stop in town.

  We flop into a pair of hard seats. Annie stares out the window as the bus heads past the high school and out of town. Soon her head bobs and rests against my shoulder. I’m left to count the stops on my own to make sure we get off at the right place. Twenty minutes pass, maybe that many miles from home. The neighborhoods become drearier with more and more boarded up storefronts, and the number of people wandering the streets grows.

  It’s not like I haven’t been to the city before, but it’s always been with Mom or Dad or Kasey’s family, and we’ve gone to places like the science museum or indie art gallery or concert hall. Places bright and open.

  I wish we could’ve gone to the clinic in the nearby suburb, but it’s too close by. We can’t risk running into anyone we know and here in the city we won’t.

  “Annie.” I nudge her awake at the next stop. “We’re almost there.”

  Annie shudders when she lifts her head, like the whole expedition is overwhelming. I feel the same way; I just need to be the one to hold us together.

  “Come on,” I say as the bus brakes. I lead the way down the aisle past other riders reading books, listening to music, or dozing, and wonder if they guess why we’re here. We step into the bright sunlight, right across from a brick building that looks like a converted post office.

  Annie clutches her purse to her stomach like a shield between herself and the world.

  We cross the street silently and wait beside the glass doors until a woman unlocks them precisely at seven o’clock.

  “Welcome, ladies,” she says, holding the door open for us. Her bright pink lipstick is shocking against her dark skin, yet it matches her lively smile.

  Annie en
ters first, gripping her purse so tightly that her knuckles are white. That’s when it hits me: I’ve never seen my sister so scared. Not when she was called names in elementary school, not when she gave a speech on international adoptions at a town board meeting, not when she told Mom she was pregnant.

  The reception area is covered with a worn carpet. Polished wooden tables sit in the corners of the room. Besides a series of pamphlets with titles like, “If You’re Ready for Sex, Be Ready for What’s Next,” there are glossy magazines and well-loved picture books to kill the time. The room smells like paper and antiseptic, not that different from our dentist’s office.

  Too bad I also hate the dentist.

  I stand awkwardly by the reception window, slightly behind my sister, until the woman who unlocked the doors returns to the desk.

  “Do you have an appointment?” she asks.

  “No,” Annie says. It comes out a whisper.

  “Do one or both of you need to see the doctor?”

  “Just me,” Annie says, slightly louder.

  “I’ll need you to fill out these forms.” The woman attaches three sheets of paper to a clipboard and pushes it under the slot in the window.

  It’s as if Annie’s hands are melded to her purse.

  “Annie?” I say.

  She blinks at me.

  I snatch the clipboard and thrust it into Annie’s hands. The pen swings from a string and taps Annie in the belly.

  “Come on.”

  She bites her lip and nods, finally moving to one of the chairs.

  “The doctor will be with you shortly,” the woman says.

  “Thanks,” I say, and from the fake smile the receptionist give me, it’s clear I’m out of my league here. No wonder Annie cut me out of her life.

  Annie finally snaps out of her zombieness and perches on the edge of her chair with the clipboard on her lap and pen poised to write. I scan the form over her shoulder.

  What is the purpose of your visit?

  How many sexual partners have you had?

  Are you the victim of sexual abuse?

  If you are under 18, does your parent/guardian know why you are here?

  Annie scratches in some answers, crosses her legs, uncrosses her legs, crosses her ankles, and shakes her foot back and forth.

  “I feel like I’m going to throw up,” she says, her voice trembling like her foot.

  I’m more than out of my league: I’m out of my solar system. “You’ll be all right. The bathroom’s right over there.”

  “I don’t know if I can do it,” Annie whispers, staring at nothing.

  A chill tickles down my spine, one that I don’t know how to handle except to wait it out.

  “Annie?” a nurse calls.

  Annie stands and disappears through a glass door, her small body looking smaller than ever despite the baby growing inside her.

  Ten minutes pass.

  I flip through Parenting magazine. It will be such a relief when Annie’s no longer pregnant. (Won’t it? Could Annie be a good mother? Could I be a great aunt?)

  Twenty minutes pass.

  A young mother with three little kids tries to get them all to sit still and listen to her read a picture book. I listen, too. She’s not very good at doing the characters’ voices.

  Thirty minutes pass.

  I use the bathroom. I can’t wait for the secrets to be done, to not have to lie to Devon, to not have to keep Annie and Harris from each other because there will be nothing to bond them anymore.

  Forty minutes pass.

  I check my cell phone. No calls from Mom, thank god. She’s probably attempting to give us some sisterly space.

  At the forty-five minute mark, Annie appears. Gone are her worried eyes and puckered cheeks. She practically skips through the waiting room.

  “Let’s go,” she says to me and flits out the door. Seriously, it’s like her feet are on air.

  I rush to catch up. Any other time this would’ve been the normal Annie, the Annie of before. Now I ask her, “Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine,” she says with a hint of “why wouldn’t I be?”

  We cross the street and stand a few feet away from the bus stop bench where a man sleeps. Annie hugs me like he’s not even there.

  “Thanks so much for coming with me,” she says.

  I’m startled but hug her back. Awkwardly. This is the Annie of before before, but I’m so surprised I can’t be happy about it. When she backs away I ask, “What happened with the doctor?”

  She does a little twirl and her skirt floats around her. “I’m going to have this baby.”

  It feels like a brick whams me in the stomach. “What? Why?” I’m so loud the drunk guy mumbles in his sleep.

  “I figured it out. It all makes sense now,” she says.

  My ears must be smoking, like my brain is deep-frying in confusion.

  “A counselor came into the examining room after the doctor. She asked if I wanted an abortion for my own reasons. No one else’s.” Annie’s words come out faster and faster. “I thought since Harris didn’t want anything to do with the baby, there was no reason for me to want it either. I thought he was all older and wiser and knew something I didn’t, which is total crap, you know?”

  I could’ve told her that.

  “The counselor said that just because a baby’s father might not want it, that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t care about it either. It means I’m free to make my own decision about what to do. Suddenly, it was so clear, Mel!” Annie grabs my arms.

  Oh my god, I’m going to be an aunt.

  Relief. Fear. Excitement. Resentment. They all spin through my body.

  “I need to have this baby and let a couple adopt it. Like karma!”

  “Karma?” I stutter. Like that, I’m not an aunt anymore. Annie’s not a mother.

  Relief. Fear. Excitement. Resentment. They continue to spin through me, now for a different reason.

  “Yes!” she says, not deterred by my inability to form a sentence. “My birth parents gave me up for adoption to make Mom and Dad happy, and now I’m meant to give this baby up for adoption to make another couple happy. It makes total sense!”

  I literally shake my head to get it back in working order. “Wait, what about Justine and everyone at school? I thought they’d know about Harris and get him in trouble if it came out that you’re pregnant.”

  “Justine won’t have any proof that it was Harris as long as no one says anything about him.” She sucks me into her gaze and doesn’t blink, even in the bright sun. “Make sure you keep him a secret. From everyone. We’ll be fine.”

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “I have been.”

  Annie tosses back her hair as the bus grunts down the street toward our stop. “Then we have nothing to worry about.”

  Chapter 16

  “Where were you girls?” Mom asks, her forehead too furrowed to be happy about our mystery expedition.

  “Mom, I’m going to have the baby!” Annie hugs Mom tight as I look on from the hall.

  “Well, OK then.” Mom hugs her back and kisses the top of her head.

  “I want a couple to adopt her. Someone who can’t have kids. Like you and Dad.”

  Do I need to remind everyone that Mom and Dad did have one kid themselves? I shift from foot to foot in the doorway, waiting to see if Mom will correct her.

  “Whatever you want, Angel,” Mom says.

  At least in that way things in the household are going back to normal.

  I grab a drink from the fridge and hear Mom say, “Aunt Hillary and Uncle Bobby want to take us to dinner tonight. Do you think you’d be up to going?”

  “Sure. I’ll just take a nap first.” Annie breaks away from Mom. “Love you.”

  Mom glows. “I love you too, Angel.”

  Annie heads upstairs and Mom corners me in the kitchen.

  “So, where were you?” she asks.

  “Why didn’t you ask Annie?” I reply.

  Mom glares.

&n
bsp; I sigh. “We went to the city.” If Annie wants to tell Mom exactly where, that’s her deal.

  “You’re coming to dinner, right?” Mom asks, but it’s not a real question.

  A year ago, I would’ve loved to go out with my funny aunt and crazy uncle and laugh all night. Even a month ago would’ve been fine. But right now I don’t want to leave the house. There are too many secrets to keep, emotions to hide.

  Yet I give Mom the right answer to keep the status quo. “Whatever you say.”

  ***

  “So can I buy you dinner tonight?” Devon asks when he calls early that evening.

  Between the Parenthood Clinic trip and Annie’s following revelation, I totally forgot I’d promised Devon that we’d go out to make up for ditching him last night. Icy guilt settles into my veins and I squeeze my eyes shut to block out visions of my stupidity.

  “I’m so sorry. Mom just roped me into dinner with the family. I didn’t know my aunt and uncle were taking us out until this afternoon.”

  “Oh.”

  I squeeze the phone in my sweaty grip. “You’re mad at me.”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?” I sit rigidly on the edge of my bed. I hate feeling like this, like I’m doing everything wrong even though my life is out of my control.

  “Just disappointed,” he says sadly.

  “Hey, you can come with us! Out to dinner with my family.” I don’t really want to subject Devon to whatever insanity might ensue (including my own) but I hate to hear him so down when I know I caused it.

  “I don’t want to intrude.” His voice is flat, more resigned than angry. I’m not sure which is worse.

  “Are you sure? It could be fun.”

  I must not sound convincing.

  “Nah, it’s all right. I know you guys are all going through some tough stuff. Probably need some family time.”

  I’m ruining this, ruining us before we’ve really had a chance to grow together. My desperation pours out.

  “How about tomorrow morning? Can you come over? I really do want to see you. Please?”