It’s official, I’m going to prison.
Sunny holds onto my hand while we follow my older sister out of the courtroom.
She’s brimming with tension. Her shoulders tight on the top and her fingers are wiggling against her right thigh in typical Nadine fashion.
Sunny and I share a look of worry when we walk out on a cloudy day. The courtroom is a small, almost terrifying red-brick building. Instead of stairs leading out of it, there’s grass on the side of this cement pathway and a couple of feet away is an intersection.
There’s a dog sticking its head out of the window with its tongue out.
“You can wait in the car,” I tell Sunny when Nadine continues walking towards her black Mercedes Benz.
“You sure?” Sunny looks beyond me at Nadine holding the passenger door open, her fingers thrumming impatiently against the top. “She looks like she’s about to scream your ear off.”
She’s never yelled at me a day in her life.
“I’ll be fine, I’ll come to you after talking to her.”
When Sunny walks away, I give myself a pep talk. Mostly because I’ve been lectured by Nadine before, but it's never been serious. It’s always about issues she fixes for me. Being the oldest sister meant putting me first, which she’s always done. Is it so bad that I want to take care of this on my own?
Beneath the smell of vanilla and leather is a rancid smell. “What is that?” I gag.
Instead, I get glared at. “I threw up in a bag back there.”
Sitting up straighter, I wait. I know it’s coming. She’s first gonna ask me if I’m okay, then she’ll push her way into my problems and do what she does best. Being my oldest sister?—
“Come here.”
Nadine pulls me into a hug. One soul crushing, somewhat awkward hug. The middle console digs into the outside of my left thigh when she drags my upper half towards her. Her arms circle around my neck and she… sobs?
A vague reflection of worry stares back at me through her window. “Ate?”
She cries harder and it hits me that I did this to her. She’s crying because of me.
“I don’t understand,” she muffles. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I rub her back instead of answering.
Nadine lives in Calgary with her husband, Easton. She calls allthe time, texts me a whole lot of memes and TokDot videos that I can’t keep up with, but she does her best to remind me she’s around and nothing has changed since she left.
She tries but trying doesn’t put the puzzle back together, it makes it worse especially when you’re burnt out.
My arm brushes against her round belly. Her expected delivery date is September 4th. I swallow back the truth on my tongue and pull away from the embrace.
“I’m sorry,” I reply. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
I don’t want to force my way inside when she’s barely making room for her new life.
She sniffles, rubbing the bottom of her nose with the sleeve of her shirt. “You're lucky you make good money, and Easton got that apartment for you. Because if you had to pay rent on top of this, I would’ve been double-worried for you.”
I should start tallying up all the lies I’ve told her, because I’m losing track of each.
“Right,” I chuckle. “Imagine if I didn’t make enough money.”
Don’t have to imagine that at all.
“Ms. Cartwright’s been gunning for you ever since her own father had a soft spot for you.”
I purse my lips. “I haven’t lived in Cornwall in six years. Why now?”
“It might have something to do with her father passing away in the winter.”
