Summer Bird Blue

by Akemi Dawn Bowman

Lea was good at that. She was smiley and kind and she’d encourage people to talk for as long as they wanted if it’s what made them happy. I’m the easily irritated one she’d sometimes pinch behind the arm because she was always trying to remind me to stop scowling.

When I see someone I think is physically attractive, I don’t picture them naked or wonder what it’s like to kiss them—I just see people who are aesthetically pleasing and could potentially make a good friend.

“I’d rather punch myself in the face repeatedly than go to group therapy,” I say instead. I don’t have anything against therapy, but I do have something against people.

Because that’s how it is when you have a sister you love—you never stop talking to them, not ever, not even when they do something horrible, or stop breathing, or exist in some place you can’t see.

And some things just aren’t meant to heal. Some things are so horribly unfair that there’s no coming back from that amount of pain.

“You don’t have fo’ do anything. Just live, one day at a time.”

I close my eyes. I know time is supposed to heal a broken heart, but maybe some hearts are broken worse than others. Maybe some hearts need a lot more time.