(A.K.A My dying sister has done terrible things)
Most of us have lost someone close to us. But I’m sorry to say, not everyone who dies deserves to live. My younger sister has done some terrible things, and she’s told me all of them…
****
When I arrived at Mount Sinai Hospital yesterday, it was sleeting. My sister’s room was cold, a stark contrast to the warm apple cider she handed me from her beside. Emily, at the tender age of 17, lay frail and pale on her hospital bed, the cruel grip of Leukemia turning her into a zombified husk of who she once was. Because I was six years older, I felt like I’d never really known her.
“So this is probably my last Halloween, Tom,” she rasped, her voice barely audible above the hum of the machines surrounding her. “And I wanna share something with you. My sins. I’ve done three terrible things and I need to confess to clear my conscience before I die.”
With trembling hands, I raised the cup to my lips and took a sip. The warmth of the cider was comforting, yet my heart raced with trepidation. I told her, “Okay. Sure.”
“When I was six,” she began, her eyes distant as she recounted the tale, “I was at preschool, playing by the water fountain. There was a girl, Lily. She had the most beautiful, long red hair. And I was bald. It was my second round of chemo before remission, and I was so envious. In a moment of spite, I tied her shoelaces together while she drank from the fountain. When Lilly stepped away, she tripped on a flagstone and fell, breaking both of her front teeth. There was blood everywhere.” My sister sighed. “It was the first cruel thing I’d ever done.”
Tears welled in my eyes. My poor sister. The pain and guilt she must have carried all these years. It was just a flash of childhood anger, gone terribly, terribly wrong.
My silence urged her to continue.
“Then there was the time Aunt Vera visited,” Emily’s voice quivered. “She had cheated on Uncle James before, and their marriage was on the rocks. She was such an asshole and James was so kind. He always brought me stuffed animals in the hospital. I hated Vera for hurting him. So, I sprayed some of Dad’s cologne on her jacket. Just a little spritz. When Vera came home, James smelled the scent. He thought she’d cheated on him again and – he killed himself. Shot himself right in front of her.” My sister shook her head. “I wanted Uncle James to leave her, not kill himself. I swear.”
The weight of her revelation pressed down on my chest. Crushing my heart. My Uncle’s suicide nearly destroyed our father. They’d been more than brothers, they’d been best friends. And Aunt Vera – I hadn’t seen her in years. How could my sister do this to her? To all of us?
After a minute, I realized my sister hadn’t said anything else. “You said there were three terrible things,” I said, my tongue thick in my throat. Almost painful. “Three sins. What’s the last one?”
I knew the moment I asked that I didn’t want the answer. Was too terrified. Emily looked at me with tear-filled eyes, a sadness so profound it was almost tangible, then smiled.
“I poisoned the apple cider,” she said. “I’m sorry, big brother. But I don’t wanna die alone.”
****
But my sister did die alone, while I ran to the nurse’s station. Horrified. Thankfully, the ER doctor on duty was able to pump my stomach before any serious damage was done.
But while I lay here recovering from a stomach full of Drano stolen from the Janitor’s closet, I keep wondering the same thing: should I have told my sister, my confession? Told her that I was the person Aunt Vera had an affair with? Maybe not, maybe some things are best kept to ourselves.