Looking back, everybody remembered different things about her. To my mum, she had been an angel, (a definite case of amnesia there). Dad would only ever refer to her as his little girl. I was never sure where I was in his affections after her untimely death.
As time passed, she became more and more godlike in my parents’ eyes, placed on a pedestal and worshipped by all, well maybe not quite everyone. My Aunty Betty remembered her wild ways, the problems she brought onto the family, but anytime she mentioned past events, Mum would quickly change the subject.
I remember laying in bed listening to the arguments, my sister screaming and slamming doors, my parents raised voices. The same weekly standoffs about what time she had to be home, the company she was keeping, and the way she behaved. Nothing they ever said made any difference. She just did what she wanted. Back then, my sister was the black sheep of the family and was very proud of it. When Christine was bored, she would go out of her way to cause trouble. It always resulted in her gaining the attention she wanted. I just kept out of her way as much as possible, life was much easier like that.
I was always the quiet one, the one who did things to please people. I never mitched off school and I made sure that I did my homework. I would always tidy up my half of our shared bedroom, whilst her half was always like a tip.
As the years went by, my parents would rely on me more and more. I just didn’t have it in me to say no to them. Then, recently, I had an epiphany, I realised that I hadn’t had a life, just an existence of pleasing my parents. Here I was, still doing it. Something had to change.
I knew I would have to cut the chord that tied me to my parents. I organised a live-in carer, expensive but worth it. I gave dad lessons on how to shop online so that all their meals were delivered to the door. I gradually worked through all the list of things that tied me to the house, and put alternative measures in place.
Finally I began to feel a sense of empowerment, a sense of freedom. A new life beckoned me. Christine had only had a very short life, but she had lived it well.
I could see the bewilderment in my mother’s eyes, as I applied my makeup in the mirror. She realised that I was really going to leave the nest. Then I finally said the words I had wanted to say to my parents all my life, “I’m going out.”
