home, that’s all. The school’s right on Hope Street. You’ll see a great big grassy lawn surrounded by a wrought iron fence.”
“Gee, if you’re sure you can get home, I guess I can get there.”
“I’ll be okay,” I said gruffly. I turned away to make my point. I looked back to see her almost hop up the street with optimism I couldn’t begin to imagine. She would demonstrate her powers for the principal, and tour the well-lit school filled with unquashed creativity, and flourish in both architecture and health care, without me. I kicked the sidewalk and bumped shoulders with disoriented freshmen on the way back to the house.
I was reminded of the first time I’d seen the new, expensive model of Homo erectus standing in the department’s museum. Made of wax, plastic, and human hair, it had an eerie presence as it stood there naked, just shorter than most of the museum’s visitors. It had been based on the actual skeleton of an individual unearthed by one of the professors on a previous mission to Africa. I had stared into the glass eyeballs and wondered what that anonymous person had ever done, all those thousands of years ago, to merit such everlasting fame at my prestigious university. What was so great about Beth that she could be literally awash in Talent, while I was only fair to middling at everything I did, even the dirty, dusty things I’d had such enthusiasm for? How could I ever hope to make a mark on the world, compared to my extraordinary sister? She couldn’t really be that extraordinary because I’d ignored her myself for the first thirteen years of her life. But still, here she was, six years younger than me and ready to start up her own architecture firm and magical health clinic while I was ready to . . .
I couldn’t fill in the rest of the sentence before my door was there, demanding a key. I entered the house and looked wistfully at the apartment door across from ours. I was ready to give up entirely, maybe devote my life to helping out at Beth’s clinic, as I sat in the chair facing the window. My future lay before me, empty. I lived on Hope Street, but I had no hope.
Until I saw that familiar threadbare car pull up in front of the window. Carlos’s wife got out and went around to the other side, and I held my breath for several long moments until she reemerged with a cheap plastic wheelchair she must have been unfolding. She wheeled it around, then opened the car door and, as if it were just another child’s car seat, set Carlos into it. I could barely feel my heart working away under a breathless sensation that my life had meaning again.
She wheeled him out front, considered the three steps to the front door, and left him there. I glued myself to the wall next to the window so there would be no chance she would see me. I nearly jumped to the ceiling when she pounded on my door, but I was able to keep quiet. I was saddened that she still felt threatened by me. I patiently waited through her double and triple check that I wasn’t there to somehow ruin her precious life. When I heard her go into Carlos’s place, I returned to the window.
Carlos sat in the wheelchair under the blazing sunlight. His face had no color, as if all the blood had drained away. All because of my terribly Talented sister. My legs twitched with the need to go out and meet him, but I prudently waited and saw that Carlos’s wife was bringing out some of their belongings, perhaps initiating the eventual move across town or across the planet or however far she thought would be sufficient. She laid some boxes in the back seat, then set a stack of textbooks on Carlos’s lap, as if to provide entertainment for him while she worked. When she darted back inside, I was drawn inexorably through the door toward him. Quietly, I approached him, noting that the drapes on their side were drawn, so she probably wouldn’t see us from inside.
“Hi, Carlos,” I said.
“Hi, Emily,” he responded.
He still
“Gee, if you’re sure you can get home, I guess I can get there.”
“I’ll be okay,” I said gruffly. I turned away to make my point. I looked back to see her almost hop up the street with optimism I couldn’t begin to imagine. She would demonstrate her powers for the principal, and tour the well-lit school filled with unquashed creativity, and flourish in both architecture and health care, without me. I kicked the sidewalk and bumped shoulders with disoriented freshmen on the way back to the house.
I was reminded of the first time I’d seen the new, expensive model of Homo erectus standing in the department’s museum. Made of wax, plastic, and human hair, it had an eerie presence as it stood there naked, just shorter than most of the museum’s visitors. It had been based on the actual skeleton of an individual unearthed by one of the professors on a previous mission to Africa. I had stared into the glass eyeballs and wondered what that anonymous person had ever done, all those thousands of years ago, to merit such everlasting fame at my prestigious university. What was so great about Beth that she could be literally awash in Talent, while I was only fair to middling at everything I did, even the dirty, dusty things I’d had such enthusiasm for? How could I ever hope to make a mark on the world, compared to my extraordinary sister? She couldn’t really be that extraordinary because I’d ignored her myself for the first thirteen years of her life. But still, here she was, six years younger than me and ready to start up her own architecture firm and magical health clinic while I was ready to . . .
I couldn’t fill in the rest of the sentence before my door was there, demanding a key. I entered the house and looked wistfully at the apartment door across from ours. I was ready to give up entirely, maybe devote my life to helping out at Beth’s clinic, as I sat in the chair facing the window. My future lay before me, empty. I lived on Hope Street, but I had no hope.
Until I saw that familiar threadbare car pull up in front of the window. Carlos’s wife got out and went around to the other side, and I held my breath for several long moments until she reemerged with a cheap plastic wheelchair she must have been unfolding. She wheeled it around, then opened the car door and, as if it were just another child’s car seat, set Carlos into it. I could barely feel my heart working away under a breathless sensation that my life had meaning again.
She wheeled him out front, considered the three steps to the front door, and left him there. I glued myself to the wall next to the window so there would be no chance she would see me. I nearly jumped to the ceiling when she pounded on my door, but I was able to keep quiet. I was saddened that she still felt threatened by me. I patiently waited through her double and triple check that I wasn’t there to somehow ruin her precious life. When I heard her go into Carlos’s place, I returned to the window.
Carlos sat in the wheelchair under the blazing sunlight. His face had no color, as if all the blood had drained away. All because of my terribly Talented sister. My legs twitched with the need to go out and meet him, but I prudently waited and saw that Carlos’s wife was bringing out some of their belongings, perhaps initiating the eventual move across town or across the planet or however far she thought would be sufficient. She laid some boxes in the back seat, then set a stack of textbooks on Carlos’s lap, as if to provide entertainment for him while she worked. When she darted back inside, I was drawn inexorably through the door toward him. Quietly, I approached him, noting that the drapes on their side were drawn, so she probably wouldn’t see us from inside.
“Hi, Carlos,” I said.
“Hi, Emily,” he responded.
He still
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