Burnout

by Taryn Eason

  Chapter 1

  "Congratulations, Delly"

  "I knew you could do it!"

  "We're so proud of you!"

  I made small talk with my family as I casually tried to sneak away to the safety of my room, avoiding the barrage of guests that were crowding my living room. It was nothing against them, I was just mentally comparing myself to my sister and being around all of these people congratulating her success was unbearable. I kept my head low, attempting to hide myself and blend in with the crowd as I made my way through it. I was almost to the stairs when I was confronted by my uncle James.

  "So, Belle, I bet you're proud of your sister!"

  "Uh, yes sir, I am."

  "Harvard Medical School. Wow. I can't believe we're going to have a big-shot doctor in the family." He seemed pretty proud for my sister. Not at all secretly angry that his only son was majoring in sorority girls, alcohol, and failing grades. I hated when he left for college in California last year because he always threw the best parties when my aunt and uncle were out of town.

  "Speaking of college, where are you planning on going this fall?" He asked.

  I hated that question. I had been avoiding it all night. Actually, all year. "I'm not really sure, I'm trying to keep my options open, and decide when I get all my letters back."

  "All of them? With Delilah as your sister, if you have even half the head on your shoulders as she does, you can go anywhere you want. Which schools are you leaning most towards?"

  The only school I applied to, my dream art school rejected me. So I wasn’t going to college. "Well, Princeton, Penn State, and Tulane are my favorites so far." I smiled convincingly.

  "That's great! Well, I'm proud of you, Maybelle. You're every bit as good as your sister. Hey, maybe you’ll go to California and whip Brayden back into shape." He replied, smiling.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I made an excuse to cut the conversation short and hurried upstairs, only feeling slightly bad about lying to my Uncle James.

  I rejoiced in the stillness of my room and enjoyed a few minutes scrolling through Facebook alone before I was interrupted by Delilah.

  "What are you doing alone up here? Everyone's asking where you are."

  "I just don't feel like being around all these people tonight."

  She walked in and sat down at the foot of my bed. "You know, I really don't either. They all keep saying how they're so proud of me. They wouldn't have to be proud of me if they made something good out of their lives. Like, if they got accepted into medical school, they wouldn't have to be proud of me, they could just be proud of themselves. It just makes me so sad to see people not trying. I read this article that said..."

  I tuned her out when I realized this was definitely leading up to another discussion about my future. She genuinely believed she could convince me to change my mind about my future. "Delly, not everyone can get into medical school. Not everyone wants to go to college, either."

  "But you have to, Belle. I can’t stand the thought of you having to struggle when you can just be normal and stay in school."

  "I only want to do art. I don't need school for that.”

  "You can't make a living off of your little sketches and paintings. You need an actual job. Go to college and then you can do what you want in your free time."

  I hated how much she always undermined my art. I knew there probably wasn’t any money in it, but I had already accepted the idea that going to college for some degree I didn’t even want would most likely end badly. I was a C-average student who, left alone, would most likely end up in a body bag six months in, due to my history of depression and my love for alcohol. Of course, there’s no way I’d admit that to Delilah, so I decided to deflect. "Why did you go to college?"

  She let out a smile. "I went because I always knew I wanted to be a doctor. I've always wanted to help people."

  I saw my chance to make my argument. "See? You need college for what makes you happy. I don't. It's a waste of time and money and-"

  Delilah's phone started vibrating. "Hang on, someone's calling me.” She gave me a confused look. “It's Aunt Winona."

  "Why is she calling you?" We weren't close with hardly any of our family members. We were the kind of family that only tolerated each other on holidays and special occasions, like tonight, when my dad wanted to rub it in everyone’s face that he had the best daughter in the family.

  "I don't know, maybe she wanted to congratulate me on getting accepted." She said as she pressed the green phone icon.

  While she was talking, she seemed confused. The conversation seemed to be largely one-sided as I counted Delilah saying "uh-huh" and "okay" three and four times, respectively. She finally hung up, looked at me, and said "Aunt Winona wants me to go see her. She was talking really weird and I’m worried something might be wrong."

  I scoffed. "Wait, you want me to go with you? No way. She's so weird. What about your party?"

  "But she lives in such a bad part of town and she said it’s really serious. Please don't make me go alone. Please, please, Belle?" She pleaded.

  I glanced down at my phone, realizing that I would just go down the Facebook-stalking rabbit hole and make myself even more depressed if I was alone for very much longer. "Might as well,"

  I got up and raised my window, inviting Delilah to follow me, rather than face the party to get out the front door.

  A few minutes later, I found myself giving Delilah directions to our aunt’s house. "Her house is right there, why are you passing it?" I asked Delilah, seeing the front door of her house pass by outside the window.

  "She wanted us to go to the greenhouse." She replied, continuing one block over.

  Our aunt had zero people skills. Instead, she spent all of her time in her greenhouse that she ran a plant nursery out of. She was pretty successful in it, but I only ever noticed that she always smelled like dirt. No matter what she wore or how clean she was. It was as if she were so close to her plants that she didn’t interact with anything else. I wouldn't be surprised if she had actually started living in her greenhouse.

  We pulled into the parking lot and looked around cautiously, wary of the dark area. It seemed safe, so we made our way to the door. Delilah found it was already open, so she stepped inside and called "Hello", with no reply. We began looking around, armed with our flashlights, since Aunt Winona thought electricity “took away from the natural beauty of This Great Earth”. I contemplated how much she probably enjoyed the 70’s as I explored the rows of roses and bamboo shoots. I laughed at the thought of her walking around Woodstock and playing bongo drums with bell-bottom jeans and those round sunglasses on. I was about to mention it to Delilah when I felt a cold chill run through me. A figure was laying on the ground in one of the rows.

  "Delilah!" I called, "Come here. Hurry!"

  She heard the fear in my voice and rushed over. I watched from behind as she leaned in close to our Aunt Winona’s still body. "Hello? Are you okay?"

  Aunt Winona slowly opened her eyes and smiled at Delilah. She then turned to me and frowned. “Why did you bring her?”

  My aunt had never said anything like that to me before. I couldn’t stop myself from firing back. “Well, it’s not like I want to be here in this creepy place.” I thought about leaving, if nothing more than for dramatic effect, but I was an unarmed eighteen year old girl and the parking lot was terribly unsafe at night. Plus I didn’t have the car keys.

  “Maybelle, stop.” Delilah chastised me, then turned to Aunt Winona. “Are you alright?”

  “No, I’m not. I called you because I know I don’t have very long.”

  “Don’t say that.” Delilah reassured her. “Just tell me what’s wrong and we can get you to a hospital. Maybelle, call 9-1-1!” She shouted at me nervously, even though I was only
feet away.

  “Sweet Delilah, It’s okay. They can’t do anything.” Aunt Winona said calmly, smiling. “I haven’t told anyone in the family, but I’ve had cancer for the past year. I knew the end was coming and I’ve accepted it. I’ll be okay.”

  The sense of finality in her words shocked me. I had never been this close to a person dying before. How did she even know what she was going through? How could she be certain that she was facing death tonight instead of just passing out? Was it possible that there was some sort of feeling that distinguished the two?

  “Are you sure?” Delilah said, “Because the people at the hospital can help you, or at least make you more comfortable. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

  Delilah and I had to bend down on either side of her to hear her weak voice try to speak. "But I need it to be. It'll happen any time now." She said, "Delilah, grab that notebook on the counter over there. It will explain everything that I can’t say at the moment. Just don't let anyone else read it." She turned and looked at me with swimming, half-closed eyes. "And Maybelle, it's nothing personal, but Delilah has to be the only one in the room when I pass. You're just..."

  She closed her eyes as I walked away to go get the notebook so that Delilah could remain by her side. Being so close to sick people made me feel uneasy.

  Delilah began trying to shake her awake and check her pulse to make sure she was still alive. She looked horrible.

  "I'm not quite gone yet." She said staring straight up and cracking the slightest of smiles, again, sending chills down my spine. “Whoever is closest to me when I pass will get my powers. They've been handed down through our tribe for generations. Of course, your powers reflect the essence of who you are, so I had to choose someone with a pure heart so they won't get evil, destructive powers. That’s where you come in, Delilah…" She trailed off and her eyes closed again.

  Delilah gave me a confused look and whispered, "I think she's disoriented. She probably saw this in a movie or something."

  I halfway let out a laugh, imagining my calm, introverted aunt with superpowers. But, to be fair, she was my mother’s sister and they were raised by my grandmother to believe crazy things like that. My grandmother was a member of the Lakinobe Indian tribe over in Illinois. It was pretty cool being one fourth Native American, even though I didn’t feel right to claim it. I knew next to nothing about our heritage, except for the crazy legends I was told by relatives such as my aunt and my grandmother, before she passed. Even as a child, I never believed any of them. I figured modern science could disprove any of their beliefs, but I’d rather not ruin their fun.

  Aunt Winona glared at me for laughing and used her last bit of strength to stand up. She stood wobbly, but I could tell she was afraid of falling. "Do you think I'm joking? I'll show you the truth. How dare you undermine me."

  I threw a glance at Delilah, who was throwing me a warning glare not to say anything back. Winona sounded like a villain from a bad children’s superhero film, then she lifted her arms and lowered her head, solidifying the persona. However, my mindset shifted when I saw all of the plants in front of her begin to grow rapidly. Their vines twisted up the wall, some spread into gorgeous flowers, one tree produced bananas bigger than I had ever seen.

  Invisible energy flowed out of her and everywhere she aimed her hands experienced an instant surge of growth. It was a gorgeous sight that made it worthy of belief. I had almost worked fought through my shock to say something about it when Aunt Winona fell backwards, lifeless, onto the dirt.

  Delilah and I just stared at each other with wide eyes. We had no idea how to explain what just happened or even what to say to each other. There was a cold chill that lingered in the air and the only noise was the sound of our breaths in the near darkness.

  After what seemed like forever, Delilah gathered herself and left tearfully to call an ambulance to pick up Aunt Winona’s body. I knew it probably wasn't too high up on Delilah’s priority list, but I couldn't help but wonder what would happen next. But with me on the other side of the greenhouse, and Delilah right beside her when she died, I wondered if she got her wish on the powers part.

  As always, I felt a bit of jealousy for my sister. She was so perfect, and with some sort of superpower, she'd be even more perfect. And I'd still just be Maybelle Lewis, the sister with no real future. Besides, what would my power even be? My passion was art, so maybe I would just, like, paint with my mind? No, that would be lame. What described me down to the core? As I contemplated my life, I began to feel the familiar guilty pangs that everything I've ever done was for such selfish reasons. I was an awful person.

  In fourth grade, I got my teacher fired because I claimed she taught History from a racist point of view. She had really just given me three bad grades in a row in Social Studies.

  In ninth grade, I told my best friend cheerleading tryouts were on next Friday, not this one, so that she would still get to sit with me at lunch. She claimed that it just “wasn’t meant to be” and forgave me for accidentally telling her the wrong date.

  Then six months ago, I lost her as a best friend because I got drunk and made out with her boyfriend at a party.

  So what described me to the core? I really didn't have a good answer.

  "Maybelle, the ambulance is leaving. Let's go home." Delilah said after what seemed like an eternity, still shaking with tears still in her eyes. I felt annoyed at how sensitive she always was, then I reminded myself that we just watched our aunt die and Delilah was just reacting normally, as I should have been also. I began feeling guilty that I wasn't really feeling anything except awe about my aunt’s powers and hatred towards myself.

  "Okay. Did you get the notebook?" I asked, realizing that I had dropped it somewhere in the commotion. I was thankful for my curiosity of the book, not only trying to change the subject in my own mind, but I wanted to make sure I had the chance to steal it from her tonight. There was no way she would go against Winona’s wishes and allow me to read it on my own.

  She nodded and held it up. Maybe she was just as curious as I was. Too bad her powers would be so boring. What would Delilah’s ”true essence” be? It would probably be something lame like creating food to feed the homeless.

  I looked outside where an ambulance and two police cars were gathered. She handed the notebook back to me and told me to run it to the car so that the police wouldn't find it. Delilah had explained that they would have to do a full suicide investigation, since it was so strange that Winona refused medical treatment. We didn't even really know what was inside the notebook, but it was a pretty safe bet it shouldn't be common knowledge.

  I started off towards the car, keeping my distance from the police officers. Delilah had started a conversation with one of the officers she knew as an attempt to help me in my escape. I was proud that Delilah trusted me to be sneaky more than she trusted herself. I made it to the car safely and sat down, self-hate creeping back into my mind. I fought back the tears that welled up into my eyes. I hated when Delilah came back from college; it just reopened the old wound in my mind that knew I’d never be as good as she was.

  I wiped my eyes and looked up to see what was taking Delilah so long, only to be greeted by a flashlight burning my retinas. I sighed and rolled down the window.

  "What are you doing out here, sitting alone in an abandoned parking lot?" An officer asked, glaring at me.

  I held up my arm to shield myself from the light. "I'm sorry, sir, I just..." I sniffled, "I’m Delilah’s sister. We just saw our aunt pass and I couldn't handle it so I came and sat in the car." Like I would actually tell him that I saw my aunt die and all I was crying about was realizing I was a terrible person.

  The officer looked at me harder and I knew he recognized me. "Are you sure you've been crying? Weren't you one of the teenagers at the party that was raided at the Wilkes' barn last month?"

  The now-infamous Wilkes Barn Party had been the talk of my school for the past few weeks. I had tried marijuana for the first time,
seeing as Aaron Wilkes’ older brother had brought literally five pounds of the stuff back from his vacation to Colorado. I started the night telling myself I wanted to try smoking weed to calm down, but then I ended up trying some other things instead, like dancing on the pool table, flashing everyone, and then finally being carried home in a police car like ten others that night.

  My temper flared and I was not in the mental state to hold myself back. "So what, just because I was smoking weed at some random party last month means that I'm completely incapable of crying for my aunt that just died right in front of me? I hate you cops, you're all the same. Just look at you picking on an innocent girl. You’ll do anything just cause you can."

  The cop grabbed my arm forcefully and leaned in to me. "Watch your mouth. Saying things like that could get you in a lot of trouble,” his tobacco breath hissed.

  I was about to force him to let go of me when saw Delilah rushing to my rescue. I realized I should probably play the victim card and let her handle the diplomacy to avoid being taken to jail tonight. "I'm sorry, officer. This is my little sister and she uh, handles grief in a different way than most. She probably said something really abrasive, but I promise you she didn't mean it.” She turned to me, talking as if I was a child. “Please, Belle, honey, just calm down. I'll be back in a second."