“Receipts” - 1/2
for my @dxcinhx
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It was December fourteenth—a cold winter day.
To most, it was just a passing day, nothing to blink at. But for Sam, it was everything.
Sitting in her new apartment on the cold linoleum floors, Sam could feel it there.
How badly she missed her baby sister.
It wasn’t like she had a reason to be upset about it. Sam created this rift herself. She left five years ago, disappearing into the night.
She wished it was as easy to forget Tara as it was to leave.
Leaving was hard, yes, but it also wasn’t. It was as if Sam could easily disconnect to the very soul that grew in that house. She did hate herself for it. It wasn’t fair to her baby sister that Sam could be there one day and gone the next. But she had to leave.
There was no way that she would survive any longer, especially when their mother looked at her that way. The look of pure disgust, shame, and rage all mixed into one expressive cocktail.
It was a shame though. Sam had let down the one person she truly loved in this world. But it wasn’t the first time. Ever since she knew her ancestry- Sam got good at making sure Tara was disappointed.
But if Sam closed her eyes and concentrated, she could remember all the good times. The memories that stuck to her ribs, and kept her afloat.
With Tara, there was no falling. Only being. Everything changed the minute she was placed into Sam’s arms. Sam used to not care about anything, as caring too loudly would get her berated; or slapped. But once Tara was handed to her, and Sam got to hold her little warm body, she knew she was hooked. Her baby sister was something so precious, so kind, so gentle.
So on this December day, Sam sat in her empty apartment and basked in the warm memories she still had of her baby sister.
—-
She remembers the first day she saw Tara.
It was cold. But she didn’t care. She was too excited to see her baby sister.
Her papi told her that she had to be quiet around her mami and not to make any extra noise. Sam was as quiet as a mouse in the cookie book and didn’t say a word. Holding her papi’s hand, she let herself be walked to the window.
Hoisting her onto his shoulders, her papi pointed out the tiny bundle of joy that was Tara.
Tara was swaddled in a purple blanket, her tiny hands covered with mittens. She had a tuft of black hair on her head, and her eyes were closed.
She was perfect. She was everything Sam ever dreamed she would be.
Sam couldn’t wait to bring her home, hold her close, and love her. She was a big sister. She was going to be the best big sister.
Her papi let Sam stay there; her nose smushed against the glass, her hands leaving prints behind.
It must’ve been minutes, but for Sam, it felt like hours. She could stay there and watch her baby sister sleep forever.
She was the best thing that Sam had ever seen.
—
Sam would let nobody hurt her baby sister.
She promised herself the first night she slept in Tara’s crib.
This had to be a secret. Her Mami didn’t want her to bother her sleeping baby sister- she had forbidden Sam from entering the room unless one of them accompanied her.
As if Sam would hurt her. As if Sam would ruin her perfect baby sister.
But she couldn’t help it. Her baby sister was everything to her. She needed to let Tara know how much she loved her.
It was a challenge getting into the crib. Sam wasn’t tall enough to swing over, so she had to get creative. Pushing over the rocking chair, she managed to maneuver herself up and over the side of the crib.
Carefully sitting down next to her sister, Sam watched her sleep. She admired how tiny Tara’s hands were and how her little eyelids fluttered in her sleep. She especially loved how Tara would wrap her little hands around Sam’s fingers, even when asleep.
She especially loved how Tara would lean into Sam’s touch and how she sighed in relief when Sam kissed her little fingers.
The world was so noisy. But it was so quiet when Sam was with her baby sister.
Sam wondered if Tara would ever know how much she loved her. She was determined to make sure that Tara always knew.
Even at five years old, Sam prayed that Tara never grew up. That she stayed this perfect and tiny, so full of life and love.
But if Tara had to grow up, Sam would care for her. She always would.
—-
Tara wasn’t very good at learning English. But that was okay. Sam was patient and kind to her. She made sure to let Tara know that it was okay to fail.
She remembers counting one to ten with Tara every morning and clapping every time her baby sister got to ten without reverting to Spanish.
It didn’t matter to her whether or not Tara spoke English. As long as she could communicate with her baby sister, that was all that mattered.
But it mattered to their mami that Tara spoke English. Otherwise, she would get slapped around like Sam once did. Sam couldn’t live with herself if she let Tara walk in her mistakes.
So she stayed up every night, ensuring Tara could count to ten and tell everybody her favorite color in the correct language. Tara often got frustrated and cried, flinging crayons and paper at Sam. That was okay. Sam understood that it was rough.
She would pick up all the pieces and hold Tara until she stopped hiccuping. She planted kisses in her baby sister’s hair, smelling the vanilla shampoo she loved. Tara would curl into her embrace and hold onto Sam’s shoulders as if she would fall off the face of the earth.
Sam wouldn’t let her fall. She would always hold Tara to the ends of the earth.
——
Tara’s first bully was their mami, and the second was the school kids.
It wasn’t her baby sister’s fault that she was so small. So tiny. So fragile.
But that’s what big sisters were for—protecting and loving no matter the circumstances.
The first time Tara gets bruised at school, it takes everything in Sam not to tear apart a bunch of six-year-olds. It wouldn’t look good, an eleven-year-old beating up on kids five years younger than her.
So Sam plans. She plans a way to get her message across.
One by one, Sam confronts each kid, screaming at them until they shake and cry. Some wet themselves. One threw up out of fear.
It didn’t matter to Sam. She would do it all over again if it meant she would never be harmed by their safe place again. The home wasn’t a secure place for the sisters. But school should be.
And Sam made it that way. From that day on, Tara doesn’t come home from school with black eyes or skinned knees.
Although their mami still prowled the hallways each night, Sam could breathe easier, knowing she only had to protect Tara from one person.
——
Birthdays were not for the weak in the Carpenter home.
Their papi worked long days and often wanted to be left alone. Their mami preferred if the sisters could disappear.
Once again, it was up to Sam to celebrate her sister’s existence. How beautiful it was that Tara was born. It was as if all the planets and stars aligned to give Sam the secret of the universe. The love of her life. It was everything.
So every birthday, Sam would pick flowers in the garden for Tara and give the drawings she had made. Lilacs. Tara loved lilacs. Tara also loved pictures of the moon.
Something about the stars and the moon captivated her little sister. Tara could spend all night staring at the stars. And Sam would let her, as long as she was beside her.
Each birthday Tara had, Sam would wrap up lilacs and bundles of her artwork for Tara. Her sweet baby sister was grateful every time. She would smell the lilacs, her eyes rolling back with bliss. And she kept every drawing from Sam in a folder.
Sam didn’t have any money. She swiped what she could from stores and their papi’s wallet. But she was glad that Tara would take what she could give her.
Tara was everything. And Sam hoped each year that one day she could give her everything.
——
Sam opened her eyes, breathing deeply. She was still alone in her apartment, on the floor. Her eyes flickered over to the vase of dying lilacs and the ripped-up pictures of the planet Venus on the floor—gifts with no one to receive them.
And Tara was nowhere to be seen.
Admittedly it was all Sam’s fault. She had left her baby sister alone, and now all Sam had were the memories of her.
She didn’t have many memories past the age of thirteen. She had found solace and joy in drugs and alcohol. There was a Loomis-sized hole in her heart that could only be filled by substances she sold her soul for.
And for a while, it was enough. It was enough to live off the scraps of life she chose.
It wasn’t fair to the sister she had raised. To the sister, she loved deeply.
Loves. Tara wasn’t dead. But their relationship was.
That was Sam’s fault. And she would punish herself every single day for it. But there wasn’t anything Sam could do now. She had left and moved on without Tara. She left her baby sister behind.
But selfishly, Sam prayed that Tara didn’t grow up. She stayed that beautiful, kind, perfect little girl that she always was.
She knew it wasn’t fair. Tara deserved much better.
Yet she still wished that Tara didn’t grow up and turn out like her.
The world didn’t need two Sam Loomis’. One was enough.
One would always be enough.
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