Nonage - May 13, 2011

I may have been a jealous child.

When you were born, Mom replaced me-on-her-hip for you-on-her-breast. That killed me…because you were a selfish, little baby. I remember, vividly, hearing mom curse at you because you drank from her so often and so often you sucked her dry. You didn’t even seem to notice how much pain it caused her or how she self-consciously inspected herself in the mirror because there were strained, blue veins all through her poor, swollen boobs. It seemed, your only concept of sin was letting even one drop of that milk spill.

See, she fed me formula because I refused to latch on when I was born. I must have known, somehow. I always thought I was much better child for leaving Mom alone like that.

And you grew up just the way I thought you would. Stuck to her goddamn hip, tearful, whiney. Mommy. I want this, Mommy. I want you, Mommy.   

You remember that day when we were rushing home from the park? I had a bike, as means to outrun you because you were perpetually stuck in training wheels, and you fell down and scraped up your knees trying to catch up to me. You wailed across the neighbourhood and some of the road-hockey kids tried to drag you off to their moms to get cleaned up, but you- stubborn, little shit- you made bike all the way home to fetch Mom. I fucking flew home, kid, I did. I don’t know why…if I was being the kind of sibling I normally was, I would have lollygagged. But I pedaled until my legs went numb. I must have felt bad, because I remember shaking and trying to explain to Mom that you were on the side of the road, ten blocks away, crying your eyes out; I felt like crying, too. I remember that.

Not everything was that bad. I think there was this one time, around the bike incident, when you and I went hiking. I remember now- it was around the divorce because Mom was crying and she sent us outside for the day. And it was your brilliant idea to go flower picking. We’d get a bunch of tulips for Dad to decorate in a vase for his new apartment and we’d get a bunch of forget-me-nots for Mom so that she’d feel better. There weren’t really any flowers in our backyard and none on the side of the road, but I was sure that if we kept going through the forest in our backyard, we would find some. So I led us out beyond our own territory, excited at first. We managed to find wildflowers out there, in the unknown, and it was beautiful for a minute or so when we had acquired all we needed and were surrounded by new trees. And I remember you asking, What now? 

And the truth was, I had gotten us lost. I felt my stomach plummet and saw the world and the trees and the petals of the flowers all falling around me in disarray. None of the paths around us were marked with arrows like I’d seen on the school trips to the hiking parks. These paths didn’t seem to care. I didn’t want to scare you, so I pretended very well that I was perfectly at ease. But it was you who took my hand when I said, I want to go home now, and without confusion, you walked a premeditated direction until I could see the bricks of our house in between the trees.

And when we touched down on our grass, you let go of my hand like you knew that I didn’t need you any more. I did.

-Kortnee Tilson