DEAR DIARY,
These are things that happened to me, cross my heart and hope to die.
The earliest memory I have of my sister is from a time when I’m two years old. She is considered responsible enough to baby-sit for me while our parents have a getaway. All I know is that they are leaving and that I’m going to be alone with my sister. I hear my momma say that big word a lot, “responsible.”
I’m terrified that I will die before they come back.
As soon as they drive away in the black car, she ties me in my booster seat. When I try to wiggle free, the rope or tape—I don’t know now—cuts into my arms, so I cry. I am sitting across from her at the table, big tears rolling down my cheeks and my throat hurting from crying. She’s eating something that I want, because I’m hungry, too. My parents are gone and I don’t think I will see them again, or get something to eat because my stomach hurts.
When she’s done eating, she leaves. Then I cry harder because I don’t want to be alone. She’s gone for a long time, a forever time.
When she comes back, she has a pretzel for me. I love pretzels. I like to bite them because my mouth hurts sometimes. Momma says I am a big girl, getting new teeth. I want the pretzel. She puts it on the table but doesn’t untie my hands. I try to reach it with my mouth, I reach far and then stretch some more. My tongue touches the pretzel. That’s when something bad happens. The chair with my booster seat on it falls over, and me with it. Suddenly I am sideways on the floor, still tied in the seat and screaming. Screaming.
Everything moves very fast when she pulls the chair up hard, and that scares me some more. But now she seems sorry. She cuts whatever is holding my hands and gives me the pretzel. I don’t remember what happens next.
Later I am crying for Momma and my sister puts something in my mouth to make me stop. It smells bad and I choke on it. She puts me on the bed and pulls my clothes off. I stay there looking up at her as she moves around the room. I remember she’s humming.
The next thing I remember is that I’m in the water in our pool. I’m holding on to a tube around my stomach that’s holding me up. I’m inside it, like I’m the hole of a doughnut. If I let go, I will slip down into the water and never come up. I can’t think of anything but holding onto that tube. I hate the water.
My sister is close by, moving through the water, forward and backward in the pool. I can’t figure out how she does it. It looks like she’s pulling herself through the water. I don’t know how to do that. If I let go of the tube, I will go down under the water. She stops by me and presses my nose and gives me a big smile. I smile back because I think she’s going to take me out, so I won’t lose the tube.
She puts her hands on the tube and I’m very happy. Then she pushes down. The tube goes under the water. I’m holding on and I go down, too. I scream and water pours into my mouth. My eyes are open and I see her legs under the water. She’s right there. I reach for her and the tube slips away from me. There is nothing holding me up and water is in my mouth and nose. I scream, but I only get more water in my mouth.
I feel her hands grab me. She pulls me up and puts me in the tube. I am spitting water out of my mouth and I can’t get any air. I’m so sick and scared. She starts to go forward and backward in the pool again. I know that soon she will stop by me and push my tube down. I can’t do anything. I can’t get away. I’m sick and scared.
That’s the first memory I have of my sister.