Keys and Cake

My sister has always been my light, I remember her as happy, fierce and immensely empathetic.

She kept me up when the world was spiralling around me, grounded me when all I wanted to do was float away.

I, also, remember the day her light dimmed, she stopped shining. Now, I’m here to tell you how it happened and why I’m also to blame.

It was a warm evening in September, our family united for my sister’s birthday. She was extra happy that day.

Singing while doing her hair, she liked to curl it even though it never held and it went back to pin-straight in the span of five minutes. Her blue dress was simple, the short sleeves let the world see her intricate tattoos, patterns of things dedicated to me and the rest of the family.

She truly was the glue holding us together.

We made our way down, I remember her skipping her steps on the stairs.

“Em, slow down, you’re gonna fall.”

She wasn’t very good at walking, I could see her falling and breaking something before dinner even started.

“Relax Joey, I’m stable, and if I fall you’re here to catch me.”

At that moment, I knew it was true, I was there to catch her. Why I couldn’t do it when she actually did is still a mystery to me.

The kitchen table was filled with food and drinks. Emily was turning twenty-one, and our parents went all out to make it special.

There was blue confetti spread out on the floor, slipping hazard number two on my list of “Emily’s accidental falls”.

The cake was perfectly positioned on the counter, just centimeters from the stove.

HAPPY 21ST. DRINK RESPONSABLY

Written with blue icing on the top, right over it two candles.

Everything was perfect. Even the slight golden hues coming from the sun.

I was told to keep her away from the dining room. Our mother was setting up her present.

See, it wasn’t just her birthday. She was moving out. Leaving.

Our dad was just outside, on the patio. He was firing up the grill. His favourite DAD thing to do.

Him and Emily had a complicated relationship, they both loved each other very much, but he couldn’t understand she was now an adult.

He wasn’t a bad father. He just couldn’t let go of his baby daughter.

This was a surprise to him. She wanted to show him the keys to her own apartment.

Just moments before the cake.

It took hours for our dinner to end. Wine glasses sitting half empty in front of us.

We always opened presents before dessert, it was our small family tradition. Something we could never change.

Emily stood up. Her glass filled with sparkling wine.

“A toast. To us.” “Dad, I have something for you.”

Her eyes were sparkling with excitement. She had made a copy of her new keys as a gift to dad. So he could visit her whenever he wanted.

She took out a little brown box from under the table. Perfectly hidden.

She slowly handed it to him. He sat at the opposite side of the table.

Mom was looking at them with extreme warmth in her eyes. She was the one that helped Emily find her place, and just like her, she was so proud of her daughter.

When dad opened the box, his smile shifted. He looked at it for a while. Unable to speak.

“Baby. Em, what is this?”

He was confused, genuinely.

“Dad. I’m moving out, finally. These are for you, so you can swing by when you miss me.”

Her smile was wide enough to show all of her teeth. I remember her leg kicking me softly.

“You’re moving?” “You plan on living on your own when you can’t even clean your room when asked?”

Emily was stunned, she knew her room was messy. She worked a demanding job. She cleaned on Sundays.

It was a Thursday.

“Dad. I’ve worked hard to get that place. You’ll love it when you see it.”

She did. So hard she hasn’t taken a vacation in three years.

“I think you should pause. A house is a big deal.” “ You’ll be back home in two months. Don’t waste time and money.”

This is where things turned foggy for me.

I remember when he said that.

I saw the color drain from her face, the little twinkle in her eyes disappeared.

She instantly looked down at her feet, her shoes suddenly interesting.

I didn’t know what to do, what to say.

Emily excused herself. She said something about having plans, or maybe she didn’t. I don’t remember.

I stared at the keys for a long while, her present still wrapped neatly.

Mom started clearing the table. The special plates she took out, just for the cake, sat in a pile. Clean, in the kitchen. She never even checked on her.

Spent the rest of the night cleaning frantically.

I don’t remember where dad went. Probably back outside. Muttering that the grill was making too much smoke.

I couldn’t understand why I didn’t intervene. My sister was smart, independent. I knew moving out was the best, yet, I stayed silent. A silence that carried too much.

Some days, I think back to that day. If only I had opened my mouth. The Emily I knew to believe in herself – even when the world was against her – would still be here.

Within two weeks she was out of the house. Boxes in hand.

I didn’t notice it at first, but her smile was slightly off. Forced at times.

Her absence, though, was permanent. I remember the day we all noticed. Mom had invited her to dinner. The second time in a month. She answered a couple of days later saying she couldn’t make it.

She came home less and less throughout the years. Made-up excuse. Still mostly blaming her job for the lack of presence.

The keys are still untouched. Sitting somewhere dark. Collecting dust.