but I do know she kept saying,
like, every other sentence,
I’m going to fight this,
I’m going to fight this,
I’m going to fight this.
She had surgery,
and she went through chemo,
and she drank green juice every day,
and she
just
got
sicker.
I know she fought.
She fought hard.
But she didn’t win.
The cancer won.
It didn’t just win,
it basically
beat the shit
out of her.
Beat the shit
out of all of us.
Lost Without You
a song
by Alice Andreeson
It’s not supposed
to happen this way.
You’re supposed to be here
each day and every day.
Like the leaves on the trees,
the stars and the moon;
they may disappear
but they come back soon.
Why’d you have to leave me?
Why’d you have to die?
I’m lost without you,
like the sun without the sky.
Lost without you,
I don’t want to say good-bye.
People around me,
they just don’t understand.
They think time will help,
like it’s a helping hand.
Time just hurts
’cause the memories all fade.
I want to see your face
and your lovely hair grayed.
Why’d you have to leave me?
Why’d you have to die?
I’m lost without you,
like the sun without the sky.
Lost without you,
I don’t want to say good-bye.
I don’t want to say good-bye.
Don’t make me say
good-bye.
a gift of love
I played my music for a while,
and when I stopped,
I sat on my bed
and soaked in
the silence,
realizing that soon
the house would be filled
with the noise
of a baby.
I got up
and stepped
into the hallway.
I closed my eyes
and I could almost see Mom
coming from her bedroom,
on her way to give me
a good-night hug.
Every night,
for as long as I could remember,
she’d hug me
and whisper in my ear,
“Sweet dreams, my love.”
It reminded me…
I turned
and went back
to my room.
Tucked in my closet
was a hidden secret,
underneath
the pants that were too short
and the sweaters that were too tight.
A painting
she gave me
two weeks
before she left us.
I didn’t tell
anyone.
It’s all mine.
Her final gift
to me.
I pulled it out,
and it was like
the day she gave it to me
all over again.
In the painting
the sky is dark,
with twinkling stars
and a glowing moon,
and down below
is a house
with a girl,
her chin resting in her hands,
looking out the window,
up at the sky.
And if you look closely,
the stars
form an outline
of an angel.
The words in the corner
of the painting say,
Find the gift in the little things.
And remember, Alice, I am with you always.
could it be?
They turned her studio
into the baby’s room.
They didn’t say anything
to me.
They just did it.
I would have taken
that room
on the first floor.
The room
that was so much
like Mom.
But they didn’t
ask me.
I didn’t speak to them
for days
after I found out.
I remember
walking in,
seeing the crib,
the changing table,
and the pink-and-blue
baby quilt
hung on the wall.
It all looked
so different.
Except for the ivy.
Mom had painted
delicate ivy
all around the walls,
just below the ceiling.
Then it hit me.
Is that where they got
the idea
for her name?
Seriously?
spicy
When I got home
from school on Monday,
no one seemed to notice
when I walked in the door.
I went to the kitchen
and got myself
a Diet Dr Pepper and
some chips and salsa,
hoping to
spice up my mood.
Newborn cries
came spiraling
down the
stairs.
I checked the label
on the jar.
Extra hot.
Good.
I needed all
the spicy
I could get.
doesn’t add up
Eventually
they made their way
downstairs
and found me.
Victoria held
a little pink blob
in her arms.
“Do you want to hold her?” Dad asked me.
“I’m coming down with a cold.
I better not.”
I got up,
put the dishes in the sink,
and started to go
to my room.
“She’s your sister, Ali,” Victoria said.
Was a statement like that
supposed to flip a switch
inside of me,
so suddenly
a bunch of sisterly love
would just come
shining through?
I turned around.
“She’s not my sister.
She’s my half sister.
There’s a difference.”
“Ali—”
But I didn’t let him finish.
I left.
Because last time
I checked my math book,
half
does not equal
whole.
do I have to go to school?
The next morning,
I was a sloth,
tired
and
slow.
The baby cried
all
night
long.
I considered staying home
until I realized
at home,
there was a baby.
At school,
there was no baby.
So
I went.
do I look like I care?
Even at school
I couldn’t get away
from the baby.
At lunch
Claire drilled me.
Is she cute?
Who does she look like?
Does she have hair?
I finally said,
“Claire, just st
op, okay?
I don’t know, because I don’t give a crap.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Let’s talk about something else.”
So she told me
about the latest designs
she was working on,
and showed me
some sketches.
Who knew
I could be so interested
in fashion?
thank God for Johnny
When I got home
from school that day,
Victoria was on the sofa,
crying louder
than the damn baby.
Pathetic.
I searched the house for Dad,
but he was gone
or hiding
or something.
I thought,
If she thinks
I’m going to give her
the gift of sympathy,
she’s off her
glider rocker.
“Ali?”
she sobbed.
I realized
I shouldn’t
have come
home.
I should have driven
across town
to see Blaze.
Maybe I should just
move
across town.
“Ali,”
she cried,
“please!”
I went back
into the family room,
and she yelled
over the baby,
“Please. Take her.
Just for a few minutes?
I need a break.
I need to pee!”
“Put her in her crib.
Maybe she’ll sleep.”
“She won’t.
She’s hungry.”
“Then give her a bottle.”
Dumb ass.
She stood up.
“I’m nursing.
I can’t give her a bottle.
I just have to wait until my milk comes in.”
“Fine,” I said.
Like a football player,
Victoria passed that baby off,
then dashed away.
I imagined her
doing a touchdown dance
in the hallway.
I walked around the family room,
the baby against my shoulder,
wailing.
“Welcome to the world, girlie.
It’s not all sunshine and roses, is it?
Yeah, I know.
It sucks.
Get used to it.”
I turned the stereo on
and cranked it.
It was “Slide”
by the Goo Goo Dolls.
I took Johnny Rzeznik’s advice
and slid
across the hardwood floors
in big strides,
like I was skiing.
Singing
and sliding.
Singing
and sliding.
Singing
and sliding.
Johnny is just
the best guy ever,
because
it wasn’t long
before she was sleeping,
exactly
like a baby
should be.
now what?
I sat down
when the next song came on
because my legs
were done sliding
for the day.
I started to move her
off my shoulder,
because I had work to do,
but I didn’t.
She was sleeping.
Even I know
you don’t move
a sleeping baby.
At least it was a
better excuse
than the dog
ate my homework.
you’re welcome
Victoria came back later
and turned the radio down.
She looked at me
with her tongue curled up,
her arms crossed,
and her eyes narrow and hard,
like she’d had her purse stolen
from a creepy guy
on the street.
“What’d you do?” she asked.
“I slid and sang.”
“Give her to me.”
“You sure?” I asked.
She reached down
and scooped her up
like a little kitten.
She was lucky.
The kitten kept on sleeping.
I got up
and headed to my room.
No “Great job, Ali.”
No “I owe you one, Ali.”
No nothing.
Even when
my dad wasn’t around,
it was like she felt
threatened by me
or something.
I wanted to scream at her,
This isn’t a competition!
But maybe
that’s exactly
what it was.
woof
Victoria
didn’t ask me
to take the baby
the rest of the week.
Mama Kitty
was pretty much
making me out to be
a
big,
bad
dog.
where’s my fairy godmother?
The pile of homework
grew bigger
and bigger
over the next few weeks.
I was distracted.
I couldn’t concentrate.
Ivy this
and Ivy that
and help make dinner
and do some laundry
and could you run to the store.
Unbelievable.
Finally,
on a Saturday,
I locked myself in my room
and attempted to conquer
two essays, a research paper,
and a gazillion pages of
geometry.
That is,
until Prince Charming
came to my rescue.
I changed out of my Cinderella rags
into my Lucky jeans.
No glass slippers, unfortunately.
When I got downstairs,
Blaze was holding Ivy
and talking and laughing
with Victoria.
“Did you know Vic was in a band?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“They were called The Lipstick Lunatics.
Isn’t that an awesome name?”
I wanted to say,
Well, the lunatic part sounds about right.
But I refrained.
“I thought I told you,” she said,
like we’d been best friends forever.
“What’d you play?” I asked.
“Keyboards.
Very badly, I might add.”
“Hey, Ali,” Blaze said,
“maybe you guys could play—”
I didn’t let him finish.
“Give the baby back and come upstairs.”
My tone told him
I was not
joking around.
“Leave your door open,” she shouted after us.
Wicked
stepmother
indeed.
trust in me
I thought
when Dad
met Blaze,
he’d be worried.
That he’d see
the longish hair
and the tattoos
and think
he was one
bad
dude.
But all Dad said to him was,
“I trust you with Ali.
Break that trust, and you’ll never see her again.”
And that was that.
Dad told me later,
Mom had lots
of talks with him
about raising a daughter.
He said
she told him
smothering me
would kill me.
My mom
knew me
so well.
is that on the SATs?
I don’t know
when Blaze does
his homework.
He never talks about school.
At all.
When I talk about colleges
and which ones
to apply to,
since it’s only a couple years away,
he never joins in.
One time I asked him
what he wants to do.
He said, “Plain and simple.
Rock star, baby.”
So when I asked Prince Charming
if he could help me
with geometry,
it shouldn’t have surprised me