The Evanescent

Lara, what a simply strange name, is asking me to go to her birthday party. I don’t have the guts to ask my father if I can. That…or I already know what he’s going to say, so I might as well not try. He’s had the same answer for me for the past something years. I’m surprised I even got an invitation what with the number of people I’ve already rejected. Most of them don’t even bother asking anymore, but I don’t mind. Parties are such a hassle, and it’s never any fun, except for the food. I like food. It’s shame I can barely cook anything without proper instructions.

My little brother usually cooks for me. He likes it, even though I’ve always brought it upon myself to take care of the boys and Susanne. I am the older sister. But he doesn’t mind. The only problem is that he can’t cook anything more than black bacon and other breakfast essentials. Other than that, I like to barge into the kitchen and grab the kitchen utensils from him whenever he’s in his mood. He gets unbearably mad then, but I’ve never taken the time to actually care. Am I mean?

“Are you going to go?” I blink and look up from the gold-embroidered invitation.

“’Course not. Like Daddy would let me,” I answer, stuffing the invitation back into its envelope. Theodore’s somber eyes stare at me for a few seconds, then he turns away and sets himself into the chair he dragged from the dining room and placed in front of the main computer. He taps his fingers impatiently as the game he downloaded begins to load slowly. I stand up and curl my fingers through his thick, black hair. “You shouldn’t download any more of your little games,” I scold.

I catch his lips curl up in a retort, but he presses them together and says, “I know. This’ll be my last one.”

“That’s what you said last time,” I say, tapping his thick glasses. “Go to sleep soon.” He swats at me and glares at me with an annoyed face. I ignore it, plenty used to that recurring expression, and tromp up the stairs. As I pass by the boys’ room, I hear Samson utter a low cry and I hastily step into the dark room.

“Hey, baby,” I murmur as I lay down beside him on his bed. Samson blinks and flutters his eyelids.

“I had a bad dream,” he whispers fearfully. His forehead is amazingly sweaty and I can’t bear to ruffle his hair.

“What happened?” I ask.

He sniffles and presses his head against my chest. I try not to make a sound as his sweat rubs against my skin. “I dreamt that everybody left me,” he finally sobs.

“Nobody left you, babe. Now come on, go to sleep.” I reach up to the windowsill by his bed and grab a tissue. Samson nudges towards me and I wipe at his head a bit. “Did you take a bath?” I ask as I smell him.

He’s quiet, but I can feel the sides of his mouth curve up. I sigh. “Take it tomorrow morning then, m’kay?” He nods and yawns. Pretty soon, he’s snoring very softly and I make sure to prop his head up on the pillow so his snores don't turn into snorts. I press my lips against his cheek and close the door on my way out. Theodore’s still downstairs, so I trudge halfway down and whisper/yell “Go to sleep!” His fingers clack persistently against the keyboard until I stomp down the stairs.

“Fine,” he mumbles. I watch as he shuts down the computer, then close all the lights as he sweeps into the upstairs bathroom.

It’s Friday. My father is at work and my mother is who knows where. Probably living it large at my grandmother’s home. I close the door behind me and lay down on my bed, but Susanne knocks on my door and opens the door without my consent soon afterwards. I feel a prick of anger, but anything for Susanne. "What's wrong, Susie," I say.

She sniffles, pulling on the same puppy-dog look her twin, Samson, always gets. "I had a bad dream," she whispers fearfully. I roll my eyes. When Samson has a bad dream, Susanne is more than likely to have one also. I think it's twin telepathy.

"What happpened?"

"I dreamed that everybody left me," she mumbles as she races to me. Of course.

"Nobody left you, hon," I whisper, her hair flying into my face as she digs her head into my chest. "Now go back to bed," I add hurridly. Susanne usually sleeps with my mother, but since she's not here, she starts bawling.

"I don't want to!" she cries. I sigh and pull her to me.

"Fine, fine," I mutter. I roll the mat out from under my bed and set a few pillows and a blanket on it. Susanne keeps Vanilla, my stuffed rabbit the color of, well, vanilla, on the bed. I hate sharing my bed.

I make sure to lock the door and crash onto the ground. A few minutes later, I hear the click of my brother closing the lights and the thud of his door closing. Susanne's soft breathing gets slower and slower until I can barely hear it. She's asleep and I take a second to peer at her. Her arms are wrapped tightly around Vanilla's neck, to the point where I almost feel sorry for him, and she seems to be melting into my soft bed. A smile creeps across my mouth and I settle into my own sleeping area contendedly.

“Phoebe.” I breathe in exasperatedly and pull the covers up.

“Be quiet,” I whipser. I turn my head. There’s no one there. “What do you want?”

“Open your eyes. I know you can’t see me anymore,” a voice says softly, edgy with hurt.

“I don’t want to,” I reply.

“But…I miss you…” Something slithers over my stomach and I close my eyes truly.

“Go away.”