Two Sisters

Two Sisters
By Silver Stars

"Why do people die?"

Libby woke up with a start. Amy had asked her question, loudly, right in Libby's ear. She blinked and sat up, squinting against the sun's dazzling light.

"What?"

"Why do people die?" Amy leaned back, sitting on her legs and rocking back and forth. She was five and a pain in the ass.

"Why do you want to know something stupid like that?" Libby rubbed her eyes warily. She had fallen asleep on the soccer field of the local playground while watching Amy play.

"I don't know." Amy replied. "I just do. Aunt Theresa says it's good to ask questions...it helps your mind."

"Aunt Theresa is an idiot." Libby retorted. And she was, skinny and frail, constantly trying to 'make life better' for Libby with her 'enlightening' quotes from her self-help books that littered her apartment. She was also always trying to convert Amy to her way of thinking which pissed off Libby to no end. Unfortunately, Amy thought everything Aunt Theresa did was golden.

"No she's not!" Amy pouted, sticking her upper lip out in an obnoxiously little-kid way.

"Whatever." Libby checked her watch. "Go play on the playground or something. We still have an hour to kill before we can go home."

"Why can't we go home?" Amy remained perched on the grass, eyes questioning.

"Because, uh, I lost my key. Mom's still working." Libby replied sheepishly. She then groaned and reached over to push Amy. "Now go! God, I don't want to listen to any more of your retarded questions. Go play on the monkey bars or something."

"No!" Amy dodged Libby's arm and asked again, "Why do people die?"

"Fine. You don't want to play? Let's go to McDonald's or something." Libby ignored Amy and stood up, wiping her hands on her jeans before reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a wad of dollar bills. "I have enough money to get you a cheeseburger or something."

"I don't want to go to McDonalds."

"All right, how about Arby's....they're the place that has curly fries."

"Nooooo," Amy cried. She leaped up. "I want to know why people die."

"That's depressing, Amy. Think of something else. Think of Barney or something." Libby examined her nails. The paint was chipped slightly on her left thumb. Not enough to be noticed but maybe she'd want to repaint them anyways. Besides silver was just so passé. Maybe black or something…

"Barney is for babies! I don't watch that anymore. I watch Spongebob." Amy placed her hands on her hips and jutted out her chin defiantly, stopping anyone who questioned her grown up-iness

"Fine, fine, whatever. I don't care." Libby rolled her eyes and jammed the money back in her pocket. She sat back down on the grass.

Amy joined her. "Why do people die, Libby Lou?"

Libby cursed Aunt Theresa. It was her brilliant idea to call her that and Libby never liked that particular nickname. "Don't call me that." She paused. "Why do you want to know why people die anyways?"

"Please just answer it, Libby." Amy begged. "I just want to know."

"Oh, I don't know," Libby said crossly. "Most people don't have a choice. I mean, some do, but, like, that's suicide. I mean, that's different."

"What's suicide?"

"It's when...people kill themselves."

"Why would someone do that?"

"I don't know. Crazy, I guess."

Amy paused, reflecting on this. "Jason Earl's mother died last year...did she commit suicide?"

"What? No!" Libby knew Jason's brother, Adam. He had dropped out of school when it happened and hadn't been seen since. There were rumors he ran away but since his father and Jason moved away two months later nobody ended up figuring out the truth. "It was a car crash, Amy."

"That sucks."

"Where did you learn language like that?" Libby knew about little kids who cursed but in her suburban neighborhood 'stupid-head' was considered the dirtiest of dirty.

"You."

"Oh," Libby paused. "You better never talk like that again, Amy-poo. Mom'll have a fit." She also vowed to watch her language because it would also instantly be her fault if Amy spoke like that in front of their parents.

"That's what Mommy says...she says you talk dirty and mean and I should never say the words you say." Amy said.

"Mom doesn't like me that much." Libby commented much more coolly than she felt. And it was true. She acted out and smoked and lied and was pretty much a sucky daughter. Her mom wanted a college-bound, valedictorian, a sweet, pretty, blonde-haired girl who dated nice boys and did good things. Instead she got a strung-out, lying, cheating, partying, stringy-haired scumbag. It was a wonder she let her pure, innocent daughter be babysat by her.

Amy was supposed to make up for Libby's non-achievements. She knew that. They planned on having only one daughter, giving everything to her. But, around the time Libby hit eleven and they discovered her stash of pot, they’d always suspected, never known, they announced Libby’s mom was pregnant. This was why there was an eleven year difference between Amy and Libby. It was a wonder she managed to get pregnant at all, seeing how she was around forty-five at the time.

"Why?"

"Why what?" Libby had been too caught up in her thoughts to grasp what Amy was talking about.

"Why doesn't Mommy like you?"

"Because I'm a screw-up."

"I don't think you're a screw-up."

"That's sweet but it's true. I'm probably not even going to college." Libby snorted. "Not that I care. I'll probably be babysitting you for a long time."

"You don't like babysitting me." Amy wasn't asking, she was stating.

"Oh, Amy. I do. You're just a bit too question-y sometimes." Libby stood up again but this time she helped up Amy. "Look at the clouds...doesn't that one look like a rabbit?"

Amy looked. "Which one?"

"That one...there."

"No."

"Well, not really, I guess." Libby sighed but then smiled. She took Amy's hand. "Let's go. I guess we're not that good at profound sister moments."

"What does profound mean?"

Libby sighed but walked her out of the playground…still holding her hand.



1029 Words