G is for Gerry (Men of ALPHAbet Mountain)

1

MALIA

My first instinct was to get up and help my sister carry the box of books that I couldn’t give up. I decided that wanted to bring them with me while I stayed at her place for a while. I even put one hand on the couch arm and the other on the seat to help propel me up. It was only at the absolute last second, as my bottom hovered over the seat cushion, that I realized I needed to sit back down.

I slumped back into my seat, and despite telling myself not to, my eyes zeroed in on my stump.

“Last box…” Dee said as she carried the books in, clearly straining from the effort but still trying to sound chipper about it.

I loved her so much. Even though our interests were always seemingly different and there had always been a gap in our ages, which kept us from attending the same schools at the same time and, Dee was still the best big sister a girl could ask for. Caring and sweet and upbeat, she did her best to keep me positive.

Being positive was not exactly my strongest personality trait at the moment.

“Thank you,” I called down the hall as she lugged the box into the room that I was sure I would get used to thinking of as mine soon enough. For now, it was a box with a bunch of my stuff. The stuff that didn’t still live at home with Mom and Dad or wasn’t in the tiny storage place near the university.

I sighed.

The university. The place where I had worked so hard to get into and then worked so hard to flourish at. Now, all of that was on hold. For who knew how long.

With an ever-present smile on her face, Dee came back into the living room and passed through to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator, took out a beer, and cracked it open, taking a couple of sips before coming and sitting down on the couch beside me. She looked from the beer to me and back and forth again, then tipped it toward me.

I shook my head.

“I know you’re still only twenty,” she said, “but it’s close enough. And you’re in my house. And I’d be hard-pressed to find someone to say you don’t deserve a beer after everything you’ve been through.”

“I appreciate it,” I said. “But even if I wanted it, I can’t. Can’t mix alcohol and the medication.”

“Ahh,” she said, “right. How are you feeling?”

“Horrible. But that’s kind of how things go right now.”

She nodded solemnly, then brightened up.

“Well, you should be off the meds by the holidays,” she said. “That means you get to do the wine tastings with me this year.”

I tried to smile. That sounded great, and it had been part of our plans anyway. I was supposed to come spend some time with her for the holidays, enjoy being newly minted at the drinking age of twenty-one, and otherwise make up for the lack of family we had by spending the time with each other.

Dee had always been more than a sister. Our mother was a difficult woman. And our relationships were strained with her and had been since we were young. Though I tried not to let it get to me. Luckily Dee was always there for me, so it didn’t. I had everything I needed in her, and she in me. Even when I was away at university, we kept in close touch, and when the accident happened, she was the first person on my emergency contact list.

She dropped everything to come get me, offering her home and her help while I recovered and adjusted. I knew I’d never be able to properly thank her for that, but she wouldn’t hear of it. To her, it’s just what sisters did.

“What time do you need to be at work?” I asked.

“No time,” she said. “I took the day off.”

I nodded, looking down at the bandaged stump where my right leg used to be. I knew I should be feeling something. Loss or despair. Panic. Rage. Instead, I was just numb. I just stared at it and thought about the mechanics of how I was going to get around until I could be fitted for a prosthetic.

“I think I might be hungry,” I said.

I hated the way it came out. I sounded like a child, asking their mommy to go make something for them. I was twenty years old and until last week, perfectly capable of getting up and making my own food. I even kind of liked cooking, something I discovered only months before. At any other time in my life, I would have hopped off the couch and offered to make my sister something, rather than sit around and wait for food to be brought to me.