I'm Still Here

by Kathryn R. Biel

  I knew he was right. Kingston was not pushing me to see Aster or the rest of my family, but I could not put it off forever. I needed to bite the bullet and do it. I wished I could just hop in the car and drive myself to see her. I didn't want a big deal made about the fact that I was going. Frankly, I didn't even want to plan on going. I wanted to be able to get the impulse to go and then go. It was another thing Aster had taken from me—the freedom to be independent.

  I was pissed and I was stubborn. Maybe a tad foolish too, but I decided to take matters into my own hands. I mapped out the bus route, cancelled my therapy sessions, and went to see my long-lost twin sister.

  She had a place not far from mine. Huh. That was odd. What were the chances of that happening?

  I steeled myself as I walked up to the town house's front door, pulling my coat around me to fight off the nip in the November air. I double checked the number that I had scrawled on a scrap of paper. If my information was correct, this was the house. I stopped and gathered my courage. For, behind this average-looking door with its average brown paint and average brass knocker, was the reason my life was in shambles.

  Oh, and that's another thing. I really hate when people don't accept responsibility for themselves and their own actions. Here I was blaming Aster for all that had gone wrong in my life. I tried to step back and see where I could accept responsibility for my disaster of a life, but I couldn't see where any of it was my fault. Except maybe the passing out thing. I didn't know if I could control that or not. I would have to ask some medical person about that. I couldn't ever remember passing out before.

  Before I could even knock, she opened the door. We stood there looking at each other. We were the same height. Her hair was a dull light brown and hung limply to her shoulders. It was parted down the middle and did nothing for her. We'd had a birthday while I was out of commission, but, to me, she looked older than thirty-two. Life had not been kind to her and it showed. Her posture was a bit slumped with her shoulders drawn forward, making her appear smaller and timid. Her effervescence was gone. She appeared to have had a very difficult life.

  She stepped aside in a gesture for me to enter. I took a deep breath and did so.

  "Can I take your coat?" she asked stiffly and formally.

  I clumsily unbuttoned the tortoise shell buttons and slid the coat down my arms. I purposefully used my right arm to hold out the kelly green wool coat to her. It felt like it weighted about ninety pounds to my still weakened right arm. Aster accepted the coat and looked at it. "This green was always such a good color on you."

  Instead of replying, I crossed my arms over my chest and raised an eyebrow. She had a lot of explaining to do. She owed me an explanation.

  "Will you please come in and sit down?" Aster gestured down a narrow hall and to the kitchen at the back of the building. I nodded and then glanced around as I followed her. The place was relatively tidy, but lived in. Pictures of a red-headed boy hung all over the walls. Framed artwork of the highest preschool variety also filled the walls. There was some kind of video gaming system on the coffee table. It was pretty apparent. Aster had a child.

  How could she possibly be anyone's mother? She couldn't care for herself, let alone a child. Where was the father? Did she even know who the father was? Obviously, he wasn't in the picture, or she wouldn't be dating Rob. Speaking of which, did she know that I had gone out with him? How could she do that to me?

  She stopped dead and whirled around. Oops. Apparently I had been speaking those thoughts out loud. Dammit, I went from not being able to speak at all to speaking without knowing. The hurt on her face was apparent.

  "Have a seat," she gestured to the beat-up, well-used kitchen table, pretending that I just hadn't completely and totally insulted her.

  I did while she puttered about, making coffee. I very rarely drank coffee these days, but she didn't know that. She didn't know me anymore, any more than I knew her.

  "Before you tear into me some more, I know I owe you an explanation."

  "Leastmast. No, crap." I tried to pull myself together to get the correct words out. "At the very least." Better.

  She turned and carried the coffee over. I envied the ease with which she moved and how both of her hands worked together at the same time. I took the mug in both of my hands and raised it, taking a sip.

  "Esther, you out of everyone knew how sick I was. Frankly, you were the only one who even saw it."

  "Did you intend on killing yourself that night?" I had to cut right to the point. I wanted my answers and I wanted to be out of here.

  She nodded. Her emotions seemed shut off as she told me the story of that day, and the days that followed, sounding robotic and detached. "That night, I woke up after a little while, and I had this overwhelming sense of despair crushing down on me. I couldn't take it—not knowing if it was ever going to stop. I'd had feelings like this before, but this was way worse. You weren't there that night to talk me through it. I think that was why it was worse than it had ever been. Normally, you got me through. The quietness of the house only made it worse. I just knew I couldn't go on that way. I knew I had to end it all."

  "So you were going to kill yourself?"

  "Yes, of course. That was why I wrote the note. I knew I couldn't go on with that feeling any longer. There was no other way out. I figured the easiest way would be just to jump off the bridge."

  "Had you thought about it before that night?"

  She looked down at her hands. "Yes."

  "Really? I hadn't pegged you for suicidal."

  "It wasn't that I wanted to end my life, but I wanted the pain and despair to stop. That was the only way I could figure out of how to stop it." Aster paused for a minute and then continued. "By the time I got to the bridge, well, I guess the brisk night air cleared my head a little. I didn't feel quite so overwhelmed anymore. I stood there for a minute or two. Actually, it could have been hours, for all I know. My sense of time is skewed from that period. I started walking, and the longer I walked, the more the feeling of despair abated."

  "So what did you do then?"

  "I just kept walking and thinking. And thinking and walking. Like I said, the concept of time is distorted for me. If I got tired or hungry, I would try to find a homeless shelter. Sometimes, a lot of the time, I slept on the street. I was very disconnected from myself and reality. Eventually I reached California. I can't account for most of how I got there."

  "So, it never occurred to you in all this time to contact us to let us know you were alive?"

  Aster looked at her black coffee, as if it held the answers. She shook her head. "I ended up getting admitted to a mental hospital as a ward of the state for about nine months. They had to treat my addictions as well as the underlying mental illness, which was why I started using in the first place."

  "I know that. I knew that when we were teenagers."

  "You were the only one and I hated you for it."

  "At times, I hated you for being sick, which is stupid because I know you couldn't help it."

  "And I hated that you saw it, because I knew you were right. But also, in my messed up brain, I rationalized that I was helping you by staying away. I knew you were on the verge of dropping out of school because of me. I couldn't ruin your life too."

  I burst out laughing a bitter, jaded laugh. "Oh, that's rich. Especially right now."

  "What do you mean?" she seemed confused.

  "Seriously?"

  She nodded. Jesus Christ, she was serious. "Look at me Aster. Take a good look at me. I have no home. I can't do my job because I'm brain damaged. I had to have my head cut open and I'm still all messed up from it. I have absolutely no relationship with my family. The only person who seems to want anything to do with me—my boyfriend—I don't even remember. And it is all because of you."

  Her eyes were wide. This had never occurred to her.

  "What were you thinking showing up like that?"

  "I had been trying to let you know that I was around
. I didn't know how to do it. I've wanted so desperately to have you back in my life. I've missed you so much."

  "I don't remember the few months before I was injured. Kingston told me that I thought I had been hearing you and seeing you, and that I thought I either had a brain tumor or was going crazy."

  "Yeah, when I saw you in that car accident, I couldn't help myself. I yelled out to you and the first thing that popped out of my mouth was—"

  "Avert your eyes."

  She smiled through her tears at our private joke. "I was so worried that you were hurt and then I saw you get out of the car and I had to reach out to you. And I knew if I said it, you would know that it was me."

  "And you were at the club the night I was there with Rob? Kingston told me I thought I saw you there."

  "Yes. I saw you sing. You were amazing. You were about one hundred times better than I ever was. I wanted to talk to you after, but as soon as you saw me, I chickened out. I ran away."

  I mulled this over for a minute. "Wait—why were you there in the first place? Do you follow me around?"

  Aster shrugged. "Sort of, I guess. I've been in the last few cities that you were in. When you move, I move, just so I can be close to you. I've wanted you back in my life for so long, but I didn't know how to go about it."

  "Well, you picked the wrong way."

  She looked down, staring at her mug on the table. "I called you the night of the show, but every time you answered, I chickened out and hung up. I understand that you're angry. I know I messed things up. I've messed things up my whole life. I've often wished I was never born. I sometimes felt like disappearing was making it like that."

  "But, Aster, Jesus, don't you understand that you can't just make it like you were never born? Do you understand what you left behind? That the family fractured because you disappeared?"

  "Yeah, I heard" she mumbled.

  "Oh, I'm sure you did. I'm sure they told you all about it." The look on her face painted the answer. "Yeah, I'm sure they told you all about how I insisted you were dead. How I never had any hope. How I refused to believe in you."

  "Yes, Dean told me." Again, she looked hurt. Her hurt just fueled my righteous indignation. "I'm trying to get over it."

  Okay, that was it. I was done. I stood up, spilling a bit of coffee out of the mug. I didn't care. "I'm done here. I'm so done. You people are unbelievable." I turned quickly and stumbled a bit. Aster jumped up and tried to steady me.

  "Be careful, Esther. You can't move that quickly."

  I screamed. It was primal and deep. The scream was of frustration and anger and years of hurt that had been locked away inside my heart. "DON'T YOU THINK I AM WELL AWARE OF WHAT I CAN AND CANNOT DO?"

  She looked at me, her eyes wide. She looked to be on the verge of tears. Oh, no. She was not going to be the victim here. I lowered my voice to a cold, measured tone. "And don't ever forget that this is all your fault. Your choices, your decisions. You—you did this to me. Whatever you do for the rest of your life, I want you for once to own what you have done."

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  I thought I would feel better. There was part of me that did. There was another part of me that was distraught to know that I had made my sister feel so bad. I had made her cry. I had said what I needed to say. I had let her know that she ruined my life. That I expected her to take responsibility for her actions. Not just the ones at the club which led to my injury, but the ones over seven years ago as well.

  Aster was silent for a long time. Sitting there, tears running down her face, not moving. The clock chimed twice, and I figured I needed to get out of there before her son came home. That was a complication that I could not deal with. I knew if I met him, I would want to get to know him, and that would muddy the waters even further.

  There was part of me that should have been happy, overjoyed, ecstatic that Aster was alive. I knew that was what my parents were feeling. They weren't mad at her in the least. I didn't know if I was too smart or too bitter to be able to feel that way. Finally, after watching her cry but not getting any response, I turned and went to grab my coat.

  Without rising from the kitchen table, I heard her call out to me. "Esther, please don't go yet."

  I faltered in my step, my arm falling back to my side without yet retrieving my coat. My bravado drained from me as if the sink plug had been pulled. Being angry was exhausting and I didn't have much fuel left. I didn't turn to look at her, but I didn't move further either.

  "Esther, I know this is all my fault. Of course I know it. All of it. And it's killing me inside. Yes, I'm mad at you for believing I was dead. But not for the reason you think. I'm mad because you saw me, the real me. No one else saw it. You saw how messed up, how sick I was. I'm mad that you saw that I was weak enough to take my own life. You never questioned it. You knew it was plausible because you saw the real me. And I hated that you saw what I really was. You were the only one who called a spade a spade. There was part of me that wanted to believe that I was not as bad as I really was. But since you saw right through me, I was forced to admit it. And that's what made me mad. Why couldn't you fall for the act like everyone else?"

  It made sense, in some sort of convoluted way. That was the thing—Aster and I had always understood each other on a deeper level than anyone else. And with her missing for the last seven, almost eight, years, I was alone without anyone who 'got' me the same way. I turned to look at her, as she was now standing behind me. She had been alone in the same way all this time. Why didn't she contact me? If she didn't want the family to know, I wouldn't have told them. I asked her as much.

  "I don't know, Es. I was so sick for so long. It took years of therapy to even root through what thoughts were delusions versus reality. Sometimes, I'm still not sure what is what. I was angry with you for knowing how sick I was, but I missed you even more than that. I found you and then started relocating when you relocated, just so I could feel a little closer to you."

  "Did you follow me around in my day-to-day life?"

  She shook her head. "No, I would usually try to find a place to live close to yours so we would have the same neighborhood. Every so often, when I was very sad or lonely, I would drive by your place, hoping to see you. Once you bought car wash tickets outside the market from Willy. I had to duck down and tie my shoe so you wouldn't see me."

  "That was in Florida." I paused. "How long have you been following me?"

  "I caught up with you in Boston. You were a bit hard to find because of the name change. Thank God you hyphenated, or I never would have found you."

  Great. Another thing to thank Cheryl for. If I had just taken Dickie Cox's name, none of this would have happened.

  "Yeah, Cheryl made me hyphenate."

  Aster started giggling. "Seriously, Dickie Cox? Who would do that to their kid? And have you ever noticed that Comely-Cox sounds just like—"

  "—an internet porn spam name." I finished her sentence, like no time had passed. She smiled at me, love in her eyes. But I could not return it. "Aster, I don't know if I can do this right now. So much has happened."

  Her smiled disappeared instantaneously and tears threatened her eyes again. "I guess I understand."

  "There is a lot for me to take in and process here. I need some time."

  "Okay, I can give you that. I have to go pick Willy up from school anyway."

  "How old is he?"

  "He's six. And no, I'm not sure who the father is. I have a pretty good idea, but not for certain. Getting pregnant with him was the best and worst thing that ever happened to me. I had to go off my meds, which I was not totally committed to in the first place. I was living in a halfway house and I relied on them totally for support while I was off my meds. My compulsion while I was off meds was to write over and over that I had a child I needed to be responsible for. By the time Willy was born, I had several hundred notebooks filled with such messages. As soon as I could, I got back on my meds and have never gone off since. I know I can never go off of th
em. I'm pretty functional when I'm on them. It's the best I can hope for. And I need to do it, for Willy."

  "Willy?"

  She smiled sheepishly. "I had to."

  I shook my head at her. "Please at least tell me his middle name is not Wonka?"

  She laughed. "No, I may be crazy, but I'm not that messed up."

  "Well, that's good to know at least." I pulled my coat down and put it on. I was suddenly exhausted and wasn't sure I had the strength to get home. Kingston was working, so I didn't think he would be able to come and pick me up. If I could just get to the bus stop, I would be able to rest there.

  "Es?"

  I sighed, turning around again. My body felt like it was moving through quicksand.

  Quietly, Aster said, "I'm sorry. For everything. I know things can never be the way they were, but I want to be part of your life again."

  "I just don't know. I need time."

  "How much time?" There was so much hope in her voice. It was killing me. I turned back toward the door, unable to look at her. Despite the fact that she had lost her sparkle, her personality still had that magnetism that could draw you right in. I knew if I looked at her for too long, I would forgive her and move on. I wasn't sure that I wanted to do that. "I can't say right now."

  And with that, I left. I held my head high as I walked down the street and turned the corner. A few blocks down, I saw a small sandwich shop and went in. I collapsed into the nearest chair and put my head down on the table. I was so tired that I couldn't even keep my eyes open. Fatigue engulfed my whole body, and I slipped into darkness.