Fairies Riding Thunder III
I tell Big Sister I won’t make room for any of her friends when the train comes.
“Move over,” she says. “It’s a twin, remember? I already told you, you have your ghost boyfriend.” I roll over and fall onto the floor and stare up at the ceiling.
“Coming with me?” I ask.
And this time G.D. answers and tells me yes.
I close my eyes through the deafening roar and the powerful electrical show. I wrap my arms around my rescuers; their bodies are soft, like giant goose down pillows that cushion the fall from a mattress that feels as if it’s perched on top of a mountain. Big Sister says, “Get up off of the floor before they see you.”
And then I hear Grizzly’s voice, “The bed isn’t that bad, just say you don't have any imaginary friends, or you won’t have any brain left and all you’ll see is ancestors.”
She’s right. You don’t really see me kid.
Of all the voices, Big Sister’s seems softer than it did a few weeks ago and we’re both less sure of what this means. I wait for more insults from her but they never come. She doesn’t even tell me to finish my breakfast drinks. (Grizzly does this or maybe it’s Aunt Ally that says it.) Aunt Ally’s shakes looked better than what they serve here, she used real fruit. These drinks look like they use fake berries and bananas all grown in a lab out back.
My hands shake, I don’t try to guess what kind of cocktail I’m on. All the whispers I’ve come to expect seem to have followed Big Sister and all of her guests, they’re all gone. And everything is strangely quiet, except for one voice.
“Move over,” she says. “It’s a twin, remember? I already told you, you have your ghost boyfriend.” I roll over and fall onto the floor and stare up at the ceiling.
“Coming with me?” I ask.
And this time G.D. answers and tells me yes.
I close my eyes through the deafening roar and the powerful electrical show. I wrap my arms around my rescuers; their bodies are soft, like giant goose down pillows that cushion the fall from a mattress that feels as if it’s perched on top of a mountain. Big Sister says, “Get up off of the floor before they see you.”
And then I hear Grizzly’s voice, “The bed isn’t that bad, just say you don't have any imaginary friends, or you won’t have any brain left and all you’ll see is ancestors.”
She’s right. You don’t really see me kid.
Of all the voices, Big Sister’s seems softer than it did a few weeks ago and we’re both less sure of what this means. I wait for more insults from her but they never come. She doesn’t even tell me to finish my breakfast drinks. (Grizzly does this or maybe it’s Aunt Ally that says it.) Aunt Ally’s shakes looked better than what they serve here, she used real fruit. These drinks look like they use fake berries and bananas all grown in a lab out back.
My hands shake, I don’t try to guess what kind of cocktail I’m on. All the whispers I’ve come to expect seem to have followed Big Sister and all of her guests, they’re all gone. And everything is strangely quiet, except for one voice.
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