Worlds Collide

The wind pulls my long hair from its bun, the loosened strands dancing in front of my face. I close my eyes, feeling the tear tracks dry momentarily upon my skin in the presence of the cool breeze. But the chill making its way down my spine has nothing to do with the temperature. A section falls to drape gently over one eye.

“It keeps getting in my face!” I complain. You chuckle.

“Then tie it up, kiddo,” you reply. You reach over to ruffle the current object of my frustration. I try to slap your hands away, and you just laugh.

“I'm going to cut off all my hair!” I announce, balling my fists.

“Don't be silly,” you say, “You're an eight year old girl; you're supposed to like long-hair. Just tie it up and we can get back to the game.”

I let out a huff, before pulling back the strands with a hair tie from my pocket. You clap me on the shoulder, before we hurry back to the grassy field. Everyone's waiting for us; for you. Football games are where you shine. No one wants to play if you're not there. You're the pride of the neighbourhood; the new starting quarterback for the high school football team. I smile as I watch you jog to the group. You’ve always been my hero, but now your everyone else’s too.

I watch the fallen leaves twist and swirl, careening in the chaos the wind has created. The droning voice fades to the background as the wind stirs more autumn debris, swiftly lifting a few of the rust-coloured pieces to whirl around the site. They skip over the yellowing grass underfoot to spin just above the straight-edged, six-foot deep rectangular hole.

“What's that for?” you ask, approaching my latest project. I look up, but the glare from the sun behind your head hides your face. I look to the left, to the right, then behind, before gesturing you down. You crouch, resting your weight on the balls of your feet as you squat. I lean over, raising my hand to your ear.

“I'm trying to catch a tiger,” I whisper, before sitting back to watch your expression. You blink, before looking at the shallow indentation I've made in the sandbox. You stare at me, stupefied. I watch you back, awaiting your reaction.

“Well, that's just stupid,” you say. My six year old pride takes a brutal beating, and I can't help the trembling that invades my lower lip as I hold back the moisture in my eyes. Of course it's stupid. You would know; you know everything. What was I thinking? I sniffle, preparing to throw my red plastic shovel across the yard. Your hand on my shoulder stills my movement.

“Tigers are huge! You're gonna have to make it much deeper and bigger.” You pull the shovel from my grasp before pulling away to step to the other side of my hole. Plopping your weight down, you send me a cheesy grin before you start hacking away at the dirt. I look at you, dumbfounded. “What're you waiting for?” you ask, still moving aside pieces of earth. I can't stop the large grin making its way across my face as I crawl over to grab the plastic bucket. But when I turn back to give it to you, I'm met with a shovelful of sand on my chest. Roars of mirth ring out as you see my reaction. Clutching your stomach, you miss me picking up the lightweight bucket to chuck back at you. With a loud clunk, you stop to look down at the offending object while I collapse in peals of laughter.

“You'd better start running, squirt,” you declare, throwing down the shovel as you pretend to roll up imaginary sleeves. I let out a squeal as you smooth down the material of your t-shirt afterwards, lurching to my feet before you let out a growl, running after me. I dash around the yard, letting out shrieks as you come closer and closer. Darting around the old swing set, I didn't see you run the opposite way until you scooped me up in your arms with an, “Ah-ha!” of triumph. I start screaming as you throw me over your shoulder. Your cackles were cut off with a call of our names.

“Yeah, Mom?”

“Dinner's ready!” she replies. I let out a squeak of excitement. I’m starved. You put me down on my feet, before sticking out your hand. I reach up to grasp it, marveling at our size differences. Daddy always said you were tall for twelve years old. Before I can wonder about how tall I'll get, you ruffle my hair.

“C'mon kiddo, we'd better get cleaned up. Mom's gonna freak if she sees these grass and dirt stains at the table.” I smile as you lead me into the house.

You were always looking out for me. Anything from cleaning up before dinner to covering my tracks when I drank for the first time, you were always there, protecting and taking care of me. Whether or not I was pissing you off.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you shout, throwing your arms up in exasperation. I shoot you an innocent look, folding my hands behind my back. “I fucking told you not to touch my stuff!”

“I was just looking for some lined paper,” I say. You stare at me in disbelief.

“Underneath my mattress?!” I shrug.

“I saw something, so I pulled it out to see what it was.” You growl loudly, turning around to walk out. I manage to stifle my giggles as you whirl around in anger.

“What do you want?” you ask in frustration. I grin.

“Drive me to the cottage.” You jaw drops.

“No. No deal.” You start stomping away, before I call out,

“I guess I'll just leave them on Mom's bed then?” You stop. I smirk.

“How about a compromise?” You take a look at my expression. “Look, I just can't change my opinion like that,” you snap your fingers, “Mom and Dad will be suspicious.”

“I don't see what the big deal is. It's just one weekend,” I point out.

“Because I don't like him.”

“Good thing he's my boyfriend, not yours.”

“I just don't trust him!” I stood up.

“I can't wait to see Mom's reaction to your porn collection,” I tell him. You groan.

“C'mon! You're not supposed to sell out family!” you shout.

“But this is my job as the younger sister,” I point out. You let out a sigh.

“God, you are...shit, you’re so annoying.” I stick out my tongue. You run your hand through your hair. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. You’re so fucking manipulative.” I shrug.

“Aren't all teenagers?” I ask slyly. You let out a snort.

“You're barely sixteen! You shouldn't even be looking at boys!”

“You were dating when you were like, twelve!”

“That's different.”

“How so?!” I yell in frustration. I just want one weekend away with my boyfriend. His parents were going to be there too; I honestly don't see what the problem is.

“Shit, don't throw a tantrum. Fuck, I'm glad I'm moving out soon.” I stiffened. My breath came out in a hiss, before I toss the magazines across the kitchen counter towards you.

“That's lovely then,” I say, “Have fun.” I turn to leave.

“Hey, hey, hey,” you come over to grab my wrist, “Don’t be like that.” I held in my emotions. “Look, I’m gonna be twenty-two in a couple of months kiddo…Did you expect me to live here forever?” Frankly, yeah. But I don’t tell you that. “I need to start growing up, living my own life. It’s not because of you; you know that, right?” I take a deep breath. “Look at me.” I bit my lip, feeling your fingers gently turn my face. “Don’t be mad at me, okay? I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.” Tears were welling up in my eyes. I raise my arms, crossing them over my chest.

“It’s…I just wish you’d stay.” I hate the way my voice breaks.

“Don’t cry. You know what it does to me. I’m still gonna be here. I’ll always be here for you.” My lips curl up slightly. “I’ll be around to bug and annoy you just as much.” I look up with a pathetic expression.

“Promise?” You chuckle.

“Yes, my insane little sister. I promise.” I fling my arms around your middle, squeezing as tightly as I can. You make a slight choking sound before easing my grip a little bit. “You’re so odd. Most kids would be happy about their older brother leaving.”

“But you’re leaving me ALONE with Mom and Dad!” I shout, horrified. You throw your head back and laugh. “But…you can always make it up to me…”

“Really now? How?” The amused tone belies the narrowing of your eyes.

“By driving me this weekend.” I grin at my accomplishment. Guilt always works, especially with you.

“Ugh, do I have a choice?”

“Nope. So promise?”

“Yes, I fucking promise. I’ll drive you to what’s-his-face’s cottage.”

Despite how angry you were, you held up your end of the bargain. Besides, you probably would have driven me anyway; I just didn’t realize it at the time. I furrow my eyebrows, blocking out the sound of sniffling and quiet sobbing around, before closing my eyes. You’d drive me any place I wanted, take me anywhere I wanted. You’d come whenever I needed you.

I raise my tear-stained face as I hear the crunch of tires meeting gravel. Beams from the headlights sweep over me, making me quickly drop my head. Loosening my arms from around my knees, I scramble up from the porch. Before I even make it down two steps, you’re slamming the car door and stomping up to pound your fist against the entrance. I grasp your other arm, desperately trying to pull you back.

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop!” I cry.

“Stop? STOP?! No! No way in hell! Who the fuck does he think he is?!” You’re fuming as you kick the front door.

I’ve seen you angry before. But the past seventeen years pale in comparison to the look of rage on your face right now. It scares me.

“Just…” My voice sounds pathetically weak. You pause, turning to look at me. You’re sending me the look; that look. My will crumples as you open your arms. I collapse, sobbing into your chest. You make gentle, shushing sounds to soothe me as you scoop me up to carry me to the car. You place me into the passenger seat before I can even realize how you magically opened the door.

“Just wait here, okay?” you murmur. I nod, sniffling as I close my eyes. I tilt my head back, leaning the crown of my head against the head rest. The uncomfortable angle doesn’t even bother me. I heard the shuffle of you grabbing my bags from the porch. Then I hear the creak of the front door opening. My heart stops. My eyes snap open as I hear the sound of flesh meeting flesh; or rather, face meeting fist. I almost trip in my haste to get out of the car, horrified as I watch you yell and beat him.

“STOP!” I scream, as I attempt to break the two of you apart.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, you little piece of shit?! I’m gonna fucking KILL you?! Do you understand? DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME MOTHERFUCKER?!” You’re shaking him as he makes choking noises. “You don’t even deserve a fucking dick! I should castrate you for being the lying, cheating bastard that you are!”

You turn your enraged eyes to me as I touch your shoulder. I’m crying again. I don’t want to do this, don’t want to see this. You understand. You throw him down before spitting. “You’re fucking lucky, you cock-sucking bitch. I don’t want to ever see you near my sister again, got it?” I watch my ex-boyfriend roll over in pain. “GOT IT?!” You kick him in the ribs until he lets out a groan of affirmation.

“Please…I just want to go home,” I whisper. You nod, your arm going around my shoulders to pull me into your side. I settle into my safe place, my shelter of comfort for a brief moment before you gently nudge me towards the passenger seat. Climbing in, I see him pull himself to his feet through the windshield as her silhouette fills the doorway. I turn away, not wanting to watch anymore. Walking in on them had been bad enough. I simply walked out, not wanting to see or talk to either of them ever again.

As you reverse out of the cottage’s driveway, I roll the window down. The quiet whirl of the motor fills the silence of the car cabin as I watch you through the corner of my eye. You’re clenching and unclenching your hands on the steering wheel as you grind your teeth. I turn to face the passing scenery as the distant sound of a train filters through the trees. I inhale deeply, taking in the dark country road around us as the strong smell of evergreens fill my nostrils.

“Why?” The moment I was dreading. I contemplate for a moment, before replying.

“I just…didn’t want to see them, hear them, talk to them; especially him.”

“You should have kicked his ass as soon as you walked in on the two of them,” you grit out. I shake my head. “I taught you how to. Should have just dropped kicked him.” Amusement flashes through me.

“But I came up to surprise him. There was a surprise; just from him, not me.”

“So? You guys have been dating for over a year. You should have fucking ripped him a new asshole.” I smile at your language. It’s gotten steadily worse since you joined the military.

“If he doesn’t respect me enough to not sleep around, then I don’t respect him enough to even talk to him about it.” This makes you pause. After a moment, you let out a sound of resignation before focusing back on the road as you make a turn. I swallow, before facing you. “Thank you though,” I mutter. You look shocked, before furrowing your eyebrows.

“What for?” I bit my lip.

“For…being here for me. For coming to get me…” my voice trails off as I fight the sobs bubbling up in my chest, “for standing up for me—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” you chide, “Of course I’d come get you. I’ll always come get you.” You smile at me. “Even if it is 11.00 at night.” I choke out a laugh, quickly glancing at the clock in the dash. Now it's past midnight.

“I just didn’t know what to do,” I confess. “I wasn’t sure where or who to turn to.” Your expression becomes serious as you reach over to grasp my hand.

“I’ll be here for you, okay? When you need me, I’ll come. When you need someone to stand up for you, I’ll be there. I’ll fucking kick anyone’s ass who hurts you; I take pride in that fact. You should too.” A smile creeps its way across my face. “And when you don’t know what to do, or where to go…come to me. You can always come to me. If you need help, any sort of direction, turn to me; I’ll be your guide.” The emotion filling the car warms my heart. I squeeze your hand as my tears flow over.

“I love you,” I manage to get out. You grin.

“Of course you do. I love you too, little Sis.” You retract your hand from my grasp only to ruffle my hair. “Now no more tears, okay?”

No more tears. No more tears. Please, no more tears. My head falls forward as the trumpets sound. My black dress absorbs the rivers of moisture pouring from my eyes. I close my eyes, not wanting to see your comrades folding the flag. I hear the clink of the dog tags Mom refuses to let go of. Dad wants to hang them from the car's review mirror, but they were always hitting the dash.

“Hey, get your feet off the dash!” You swipe at my legs as I laugh at you. “C’mon! I’m trying to keep my new car in good condition!” I stick out my tongue.

“It’s not new, butt face. It’s used,” I point out. You let out a huff, before waving your right hand in dismissal.

“It’s new to me. And if you’re not gonna listen, then I’m kicking you out.” I gasp.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me, squirt.” I pout, before slowly lowering my legs.

“Finally,” you say. I cross my arms, looking out the window. “Hey now, don’t be stupid.” I remain silent. “You know this is the coolest birthday present ever.” I purse my lips, before turning around to smile at you. You smile back. “Thank you,” I say.

“You’re welcome. So how does it feel to be the big ten-oh?” I shrug. I’m not going to tell you that I spent the entire day counting down the minutes until you got home from work to drive me into town. You chuckle. “You waited all day for this, didn’t you?” Damn. You know me too well. I nod fervently. Mom and Dad had been nice with the cake and presents, but I’d been more excited for this. Everything else didn’t matter. “Well, we’re gonna take a detour, okay?” I shoot you a confused expression. “I found this really nice place the other day, I wanna show you.” You flick your signal before pulling over. I undo my seating before clamoring out of the car.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere!” I complain. You laugh, before tugging me in the direction of what sounds like the ocean. I don’t get it. We live near the beach; it’s not a big deal. Going into town is though.

“What do you think?” I take a good look at the rock surrounding us. I glance out across the empty air to see the setting sun reflecting off the waves. The few wispy clouds were painted a dull pink as the horizon was awash with orange and red. The crimson-dyed waves were crashing into the rocks below the cliff’s edge. I grin.

“It’s totally awesome!” You laugh.

“I thought that too. Pretty friggin’ poetic, isn’t it?” I nod, before taking a step forward. “Hey, be careful.” You grasp the tops of my arms before tugging me backwards. “We should get going; you still want to catch that film, right?” I turn away from the beautiful sight as you direct me back to the car parked across the street.

We stop by on the way home too. You’re resting against the hood of your car, finishing up some junk food from the theatre as I wander around the cliff, investigating. This is like something out of movie. It’s such a clear view of the sky; it’s hard to believe. I’m fascinated by the lack of the moon; you say it’s because of the date. New moons mark the beginning of a new month, or something like that. I crane my neck even further back as I see a blinking light in the sky. I strain my eyes, before widening them in realization.

“Look!” I point, “It’s a shooting star!” You’ve since come to stand beside me. You look upwards too.

“No, silly, that’s a satellite.” Does that mean the wish I just made isn’t going to come true?

“What’s the difference?” I ask.

“Well, a satellite is something humans make, and then send into space. They’re not really stars,” you explain.

“But it’s a light in the sky, just like a star,” I reason. You shake your head as you crouch down to my level. “What’s a star then?” You hesitate for a moment.

“Stars…are people.”

“I don’t get it.”

“You remember Grandma?” I nod, recalling the funeral we’d attended six months ago.

“Grandma passed away,” I say, repeating Mom’s words.

“Yeah, Grandma passed away. She went to another place.”

“She went to a star?” I'm thoroughly confused. How can a light be a place?

“No. There’s a story that says stars are the spirits of people who pass away. They aren’t with us anymore, but they stay in the sky, as stars, to watch over us.”

“Why don’t they just come so we can talk to them?” You shake your head.

“They can’t. Stars are far, far away.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…oh.”

“Well, if we can see the other place…can we visit?”

“No, we can’t. We can’t visit them, and they can’t visit us. Here and there are different places, different worlds.”

“Do they collide?” I ask, and you smile.

I probably shouldn’t be driving in this state. I could barely see the steering wheel, let alone the road. It’s a miracle I even made it here. It’s like someone was watching over me…I choke out back a cry at the thought. I make my way unsteadily to the edge of the cliff.

Thisis was our place. Whenever I needed you, we’d meet here to talk, to goof off; just spend time together like when we were kids. Collapsing to my knees, I sob into my hands. It seems I haven’t stopped crying since the day those men in uniform showed up at the house. I clench my fists so tightly that my nails become pinpricks of pain as they dig into my palms. You were always so proud to fight for this country; now you’ve died for it.

I raise my tear-stained face to the sky. The moon is but a sliver of light, faintly outlining the rocky surroundings and the oddly serene sea. I see the blinking of a satellite, before focusing on the twinkling in the dark velvet sky.

I close my eyes. I can’t breathe. I don’t know how to breathe without you here. You’re supposed to be here, suppose to be alive. You’re supposed to be my pride, my strength, my guide; my brother. Big brothers aren’t supposed to leave their sisters to fend for themselves. You aren’t supposed to leave this life yet.

The stars are so far away; worlds away. You’re in a different world now.

“Do they collide?” I ask, and you smile.