When She Was Me

by Marlee Bush

There it is. Proof I don’t deserve her. Another constant reminder of all the ways I failed her. How much I screw up doesn’t matter when I have a sister who’s always ready to help me pretend everything is OK. Even though sometimes I wonder if Cassie is pretending or if she genuinely forgets. Like there is a part of her, more dominant than all the more reasonable parts, that cannot see me as poison.

The words that break on other people’s tongues slip right off Cassie’s. Everyone, she says, should always speak exactly how they feel. But I know better.

The words I want to say form on my lips and die in the same spot. I’m one of those. The weak ones who can’t say the words we’re all thinking. Can never quite get them out.