Shred Sisters

by Betsy Lerner

“How did you get to be so good?” It was a compliment that felt like an accusation.

she had a gift for making you feel guilty for something she had done.

Sometimes I guiltily hoped she would die; our grief would have an end point.

I had believed that it was Ollie who drove them apart, but now I saw that she was the fulcrum of their marriage. Without her the union collapsed.

She said it was a cry for help that no one heard, and she laughed. “You know, like a tree in the forest.”

I wanted my sister; I just didn’t know if I wanted Ollie.

I never viewed my ability to be alone as a strength. It was more of a default.

Too keyed up to sleep, I picked up the phone to call my mother, then remembered she was dead.

“You’re enabling her,” Anita told my father, using the new addiction vocabulary that had seeped into the mainstream. “What am I supposed to do, disable her?”

“I love you, little sister. I hope you know that.” When I failed to respond in kind, Ollie returned to her assembly line, filling the last of the goody bags. “It’s okay,” she said. “I know you love me, too.”