Unlike most teenagers’ transfer into adulthood, the days leading up to my eighteenth birthday were not filled with party plans and excitement. Instead I spent my last days as a seventeen-year-old vigorously studying for the GED and side stepping angry glances from my older sister, Cecilia. Two days before the test, Cecilia had a total melt down. I cannot even remember how the fighting began, but I know it ended with both of us consecutively slamming our doors and flinging our crying selves onto our beds.
For the past year I had been preparing to apply for college. My family started acting different around me back when I got my ACT. I nearly fell out of my chair when I saw my score. When I showed my mom, she started to cry. I thought it was because I had done a good job, but now I think it was because she realized I would be leaving her before long.
After I got my ACT I needed to get my GED because I had been home schooled. Unfortunately the only time I could take it was on my eighteenth birthday. I spent those last few days as a seventeen-year-old locked in my room, pouring over books and notes.
Every time I tiptoed down stairs to grab a snack I would find my house eerily silent. I knew my family was around but for some reason they were not really speaking to me. I shrugged, figuring they wanted me to get all the study time I could. Then I would stuff a piece of bread in my mouth and tiptoe back up to my lair.
After a little while, I started to wonder why no one was talking to me. I realized that whenever I brought up the subject of college they would go silent and look awkwardly off to the side. College was all I really talked about those days.
Although most of my family just ignored me when I shared my excitement about college, my sister, Cecilia, would get angry. More and more often she would stomp off in a fury when I would comment on the classes I wanted to take, or the apartments I might stay in. After one of these episodes I complained to my mom about how weird she was and how she had problems and my mom calmly explained, “Her boyfriend is on a mission and you’re her best friend. How would you feel if your two best friends left?”
I told her, “If I’m her best friend why is she treating me like crap?”
My mom told me I needed to confront the beast. The beast. Cecilia. My short, blonde, firecracker of an older sister. She was fun and outgoing until you got on her bad side. Than all hell broke loose and it would probably take you an arm, a leg and a lifetime supply of Swedish fish to get back on her good side. I decided to put it off until after the GED when I had my wits about me.
Obviously, that didn’t happen. Only two days before the test, and both of us were locked in our bedrooms sobbing our hearts out because we were so frustrated with each other. After I calmed my self down a bit I remembered what my mother had said, “Confront the beast.”
Silent and brave, I slowly walked to her room and carefully curled up in bed beside her. She cried for a long time, long enough that I began to wonder if she knew I was there. Finally she managed to squeak, “I don’t want you to go.”
I sighed. “Can’t you be happy for me? This is something I have to do.”
More crying, and then, “I know, but I need you.”
I was taken aback. She needed me? Wasn’t I always the one who needed her? When we were kids I always relied on her. When we went to parties together I would stick by her because I was too shy to talk to other people without her standing next to me. She was my lucky charm I always kept with me. I didn’t feel like a whole person without Cecilia. Without her I was just, “Cecilia’s sister”. Even when my confidence grew I was never far from her. I knew that the reason we had such a close relationship was because I needed her. Not the other way around. I could not do anything without her. Then one-day tragedy struck and I had to do everything without her. My mom’s best friend, Wendy, died, leaving behind a broken hearted husband and five young daughters. Wendy’s husband explained to our family that he could not take care of the girls on his own, and asked if Cecilia would be willing to live with their family in Ohio and nanny for him. She accepted, and at sixteen Cecilia left home and became the surrogate mother for five girls all under the age of thirteen. I was left to fend for myself.
At first I thought, How can I survive without Cecilia? Who am I without her? When she left, that is exactly what I found out: who I am. I realized I am my own person. I became Esther, not “Cecilia’s sister”. I still missed her more than anything, but with her gone I had an opportunity to become my own person, independent of my lucky charm. When she came back nearly eight months later, we had both changed. She had grown up, learned how to live on her own and take care of five children, but had some serious emotional problems because of it. I had gained an independence that I still have today. Without it I probably would not have had the guts to apply for college.
And now, three years later, she needed me. Why did she need me? While we were lying in her bed, I asked her, “Why do you need me? I don’t do anything.”
She replied, “That’s why I need you.”
I did not have to do much for Cecilia, she just needed me to be there for her and lend a listening ear when she had problems. I guess I never understood how much that meant to her.
She continued to cry for a while and I thought about how to continue. Finally I said, “I’ll call you everyday, after every class. You can tell me all about your problems and I’ll tell you that you’re not crazy and that I miss you a bunch.”
She sobbed, “It won’t be the same.”
“No it won’t, but it’s better than nothing.”
Four months later I moved to college and started calling Cecilia. I listened to her problems, told her she wasn’t crazy and that I missed her a bunch. She listened to my problems, told me that I was crazy for leaving her and that she missed me a bunch. It’s not the same, but it’s better than nothing.
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