What You Know Is True

I don’t know what Louie said to Mama, but she wasn’t as pissed off as I thought she’d be when I got home. At the most, she threatened to have me live with my Dad and let him handle me if I couldn’t pull myself together. Like he could’ve done any better. Even when they were together, Mama was the one to do all the disciplining.

After her scolding she went into her office. I heard her talking on the phone, but I don’t know to whom or what about. Most likely it was about me, but I didn’t care too much. I wasn’t going to stress over it.

I decided to look for the book again. I ended up cleaning my entire room and it was nowhere in there. I wanted to try Louie again, so I waited till later when Mama would be asleep.

x x x x

My phone read 12:40 am. Mama went to bed 2 hours ago.

I didn’t charge my way in this time. I felt more relaxed, but still a little edgy. I knocked on his door and after awhile he groggy said, “Come in.”

He must’ve thought I was Mama, because he sat straight up in bed when he saw it was me. I closed the door softly and leaned against it. “Chill. I’m not gonna touch you. I want to talk.”

For the first time Louie’s face was blank as he stared at me. The moonlight coming in from the window created an eerie glow on his face. I could see his shoulders were tensed and his hands were knotted in his lap.

I always lost my anger too fast. I wouldn’t do that this time. “I need the book, Louie. It’s important. You might think it’s childish but –“

“I don’t have it,” he interrupted quietly. I couldn’t understand why he was lying, why he couldn’t just give it to me.

“Stop lying. You were never good at it.”

“I got it from Josee, but I guess she was better at it than me,” he said. “Or maybe not.”

“Why is everything suddenly about her?” I struggled to keep my voice down, but the agitation was already starting to get to me. “Do you hate her or something?”

“I do hate her! I hate what she did to you.” My muscles tightened as the temperature suddenly became hotter. My head was urging me to leave, to block out what Louie was saying. I pushed the sickening feeling away and tried to breathe. I wouldn’t walk away. I was gonna figure this all out tonight.

“It’s just kid’s stuff,” I said. “She didn’t favorite me more than you.”

“She did.”

“Okay, so she did. Fine. Are you seriously jealous? Are you kidding me right now?”

His staring got to the point where I couldn’t look at him. For once it was me who looked away. “You should ask yourself that. Do you really not remember? Or is it you just don’t want to?” he asked, voice getting more strained with each word. “I know, Dallas. I’ve always known what she’s done.”

A throb began in my head, and I could see the edges of a memory forming, but I closed my eyes and pushed it far back. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and began laughing, soft at first, but then it became louder, and there was a small joy in me from it. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. You’re the one making up lies –“

“You’re the one lying to yourself!”

“Just like how you’re always lying about eating and not starving yourself? I guess your method isn’t working out since you still look the same.”

Would you believe me if I told you, I was just saying the first thing to come to mind, whether it was true or not? My words hung between us, and instead of satisfaction, a ton of weight crushed my chest.

When Louie’s eyes widened like he had finally been exposed, that’s when I knew I wasn’t just saying random stuff. It was all true. Mom’s suspicious about him not eating was true, and more serious than I gave it credit for.

My skin turned cold as I opened my mouth to – what? Apologize? Insult him some more? But he beat me to it.

“You don’t know anything,” his voice broke, and I expected him to start crying before he could finish speaking. “Fine, you’re right. I do lie about eating. But you’re so messed up. You think I have problems when yours are worse than me. You’re too much of a coward to see all the things wrong with you, so don’t try to turn this all on me.”

He actually cried. The tears dripped down his face, faster than he could wipe them away. I grabbed the doorknob to leave. I had to get out –

“You tell me every day I’m just some gay, fat kid. But I know worse things about you.”

“Louie, stop.” My small headache turned into a full migraine, and right then all I could see were visions of me and Louie as kids, and Josee was there.

“Josee thought she was being secretive, that no one would find out,” Louie went on. “But I saw what happened, and I figured out she was always doing those things to you. And when she died and no one could understand why, I knew the reason, and you did too.”

I slid down the door and put my head between my knees. “Shut up.” I don’t want to remember. Josee was the best sister I could’ve ever asked for. There was nothing wrong or sick about her. That was Louie. He was the reason why she was dead.

“I always wanted you to like me and not hate me. And I kissed you ‘cause I thought maybe you’d finally like me like you did Josee, ‘cause isn’t that what she did? I’m so sorry I did that. It was stupid and messed up and I wasn’t thinking, but –“

“SHUT UP.” My scream rattled off the walls and muted everything else. I waited for Mama to show up at the door but she never did. Louie continued to cry, but his expression was now neutral.

Louie was a liar. Josee was normal.

“Dallas.”

She wasn’t horrible. She wasn’t.

“Why do you keep lying to yourself? It’s been years. Why won’t you admit it?”

There was something wrong with her.

x x x x

I ended up running out of Louie’s room and locking myself in mine. I hadn’t slept at all, and by 3 in the afternoon I was still only lying in my bed, watching my ceiling fan. I was too afraid of dreaming to sleep.

I finally got out of bed an hour later and came downstairs to see Mama getting ready to leave. She merely glanced at me and said, “Louie went to your dad’s place. He’s spending the night there.”

Later I would find out by “spending the night” she meant he was staying a couple of days there. She didn’t look mad or upset, just tired. She told me she had a quick meeting to attend and she’d be back soon. She said she loved me as she left.

I don’t know how long I stood there in front of the stairs. My eyes were weighted down, and my head felt clogged up.

I wanted everything to be normal. But I never got what I wanted.

I went back upstairs and stared at Louie’s bedroom door. It was half opened, and I went inside without a thought. There were some clothes scattered about on the floor, along with notebooks probably filled with his stories or sketches and collages of buildings. Sometimes I forgot those things about him --- that he liked writing and architecture. He didn’t really tell anyone stuff like that anymore.

On one part of his wall near his bed, he had a poster board with a list of states written in different colors on it, and underneath those states were names of schools. One school on the east coast was highlighted and next to it he had written Top choice; need to visit. There were various sticky notes on the poster board with each one written in completely.

I stared at it and tried to get rid of this lost feeling that had fallen on me. I was the one who would be graduating when school started again, and I didn’t have anything like that. I didn’t know where I was going or if I even wanted to go to college. Louie had his entire future planned out. He never told anyone about it. Not to me anyway.

Maybe I really didn’t know him. I didn’t know he had some kind of eating disorder, that he hated our sister, or anything. The weighted down feeling I had been having all day was being replaced by hollowness, but I ignored it and focused on finding the book. I looked for a long time before I thought Louie most likely took it with him to Dad’s.

The last place I hadn’t tried yet was the closet. The book wasn’t on the ground or under piles of jeans and shoes. There was a top shelf, and I peeked around boxes to if it was there. I shoved a stack of magazines aside and spied a small, rose-colored notebook and grabbed it.

The material was made out of velvet, and it had gold stitching that was designed like vines and roses on the cover.

“Really, Louie?” I scoffed. When he decided to keep a journal, did he really have to pick out the most feminine-looking journal in the store? I was surprised he hadn’t glued pictures of musicians or whatever on the cover to make it less embarrassing. I opened to the first page anyway. I wasn’t concerned about invading his privacy.

It was old. The first entry was dated January 15, 2006. Louie was around 10-years-old then, so it probably only had childish ramblings in it. I thought about putting it back till I noticed the handwriting was not something a little kid would have. It was small and neat, and cursive in some places.

I knew for certain the journal was Josee’s when I read the first entry.



x x x x

It was written the same year she died.

I took the journal with me and quickly went to my room. I made sure the blinds on the windows were closed so it would be dark in my room; the sunlight felt too exposing. I sat on my bed and I could barely hold the journal. My throat was itching to scream, but nothing would come out.

I was afraid to read it. This wasn’t like my dreams or memories that I wouldn’t let come through, because I was too nervous of what I’d see. From that first entry I knew what this whole diary was going to be about.

The truth was inside, and I wanted so badly to burn it. I thought about doing it, but I couldn’t get my legs to move.

I couldn’t ignore this anymore.

I started reading it.