A Sister and Some Advice

Merry Christmas, Radishes! It’s been a while since we’ve posted here, but that should be changing soon! For the holiday, Sarah and I have both written stories that have to start with the line “Off in the distance, I hear the sound of sleigh bells” which was perfect for me because I wanted to write some Christmas-y scenes in my WIP, so I double dipped here. Happy Holidays and Stay Radish!

Off in the distance, I hear the sound of sleigh bells. The sky has yet to decide which color she’ll be today, though from my perch in the window seat of Grandpa’s old study, it’s clear that Mother Nature is determined for the snow to stick around a while longer. Midwest winters are always cold with the kinds of temperatures that bite ears and sting eyes, but I’ve lived through enough of them to appreciate that it’s actually warmed up a bit. Yesterday when I left for my last day of school before Winter Break, the thermometer said it was 9 degrees. Even through the glass, I can tell it’s not that bad. Probably around 14 if I had to guess.

My favorite day of the week is usually Sunday. My favorite time of day is usually dusk. My favorite season, though, is winter. And during the winter, I let the other two change. Saturdays rule during speech season, and there’s nothing more breathtaking to me than early winter mornings.

Curled up with a blanket, a book, and a hot mug in my hands, I watch the stillness. I savor it along with my hot chocolate. The crazy will come in the way of noise and people, a typical Italian household, but not now. Not this early.

A creak of the floorboards behind me breaks the silence. “What in God’s holy name are you up this early for on a Saturday, Teddy Bear?” My big sister smiles as she shrugs off her coat and gives me a hug.

“Hey Sophia.” I smile and curl my feet under me so she has room on the ledge and we can share the view. “I’m still on speech schedule.” It was 7 in the morning, which means we’d already have arrived at the tournament school by now and the first round of competition would start in an hour. I glance at the coat. “Are you just getting in?”

She raises a finger to her glossy chapped lips, but her sparkling eyes give her away. “Soph!”

She laughs quietly into her fist. “I was going to come last night, but then a few people from high school texted me and I figured what the hell? A little walk down memory lane won’t kill me.”

I nodded and took another sip. Halfway through her second year at Loyola, it made sense. Sophie had always been the independent one, pushing boundaries, making sure she was heard. She fit right into our family, whereas I’ve always watched her from the shadows in awe. Of course, that same bold spirit of hers was usually what got her in trouble with the family that loved her fiercely. When we’d have to play the piano as mood music in the family restaurant, I always pick the musical standards and Rat Pack oldies that no one minds.

Sophia will do bawdy drinking songs. Slowed down so they sounded like ballads and without lyrics, of course, but familiar tunes to anyone paying attention just the same.

She steals the mug from my grasp and takes a long drink. “So,” I tread carefully. “Run into anyone interesting at your reunion?”

She shrugs. “Amy showed up, which I took as my signal to bow out and come home to see my favorite sister in the whole world.”

“She try to talk to you?”

“She tried. Doesn’t mean we’ll ever get back together. Besides, there’s someone new now.”
“Yeah?” Forget my own complicated romantic life, or really, lack of one. I’d never been a huge fan of Sophia’s ex-girlfriend, so new was good. “Who is she? Or he?”

“He this time. David. I was filling in on guitar for a gig with my friend’s band and he was there. We actually had a music theory class together last year, he remembered me, so we’ve been hanging out.”

I can’t help but smile. “And?”

She casts her gaze back out the window. With the shadows and slow sunrise, it’s almost hard to tell where the sky ended and earth began. “And we’ll see.” She sounds casual, but I keep grinning. She’s twisting her long brown hair, identical to my own except for the ruby red peak-a-boo streaks on the very bottom.

Twisting means she is past “we’ll see,” but I’m not going to push it.

“What about you? Any boys lately?”

Now I am the one shrugging. “Oh come on,” she nudges. “Ryan said Speech Boy is back in the picture.” Of course my best friend would be talking to my sister. Those two girls talked to each other more than I talked to each of them (if that was even possible).

“He has a name. Kent.” My cheeks flush just mentioning him. The past few weeks have been so weird. I mean, for so long we were just competitors from rival schools, and were we really rivals when our team never really had much of a chance? But then he had to walk into the restaurant back in October, our speech lives and real lives started merging, and it’s been wonderful.

So of course, that scares the crap out of me.

“There’s not much to say. I like him. A lot.”

“Hmmm.” Sophia grabs some of the thick afghan to cover her legs. “So you’re terrified.”

“Duh.”

She prods me with her cold foot. “And?” She smiles, knowing I hate having my own brand of questioning used against me.

I don’t answer right away. Instead I smile as I feast on the colors painting the sky and snow, delicate pastels breathing life into a season people too often dismiss and associate with death because it’s cold. “I wake in the loneliness of sunrise, when the deep purple heaven turns blue.”

“And start to pray as I pray each day that I’ll hear some word from you.” Sophia finishes the lyric and sighs. “I’m not even their biggest fan like you are, but I’ve got to admit it. Rodgers and Hammerstein knew how to write a song.”

“True story.” I always loved the imagery in that song about the singer’s view, how it envelops the love song into something cozy. It’s the perfect song for this view right now. I turn to my sister. “I like him. I do. And I want to hear from him and I think I know how I feel about him, but I’m not sure how I feel about that. Does that make any sense?”

She nods. “Tons.” She picks up the book and studies the worn leather cover. “So is that why you’re hiding out in here?”

It feels wrong to call it hiding even though that’s exactly what it was. Ever since Grandpa died last year, no one else comes in here. Apparently it hurts too much or the memories are too strong, but that’s why I’ve taken the space as my own. At first I thought Dad would be upset, but he was actually glad, I think. This was where Grandpa would have me read aloud to him ever since I was a little kid. Sometimes I would get to pick, but it was usually him.

Because, you know, every ten year old reads Alexandre Dumas and Jane Austen to their grandparents.

Persuasion is my favorite book, full of doubt and hope and second chances, but there was too much of me in it as a result. Missing Grandpa, I only wanted him. Hence my choice this morning of Great Expectations.

“I wanted advice,” I mumble. “I want Grandpa’s advice.”

Sophia frowns. “Aw, Ted. I miss him too, but hiding in here won’t help you out there. It won’t bring him back.”

She’s confused at the sight of a smile pulling at my lips. “That’s not true.” I scooch over and take the book from her hands, opening it. “Before he had me read to him, he’d write notes to himself or underline his favorite passages. See?” I point to the marginalia, a small star next to a few lines with a bracket around them. “Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day.”

“Wow.” She sits up a little straighter as the sentiment sinks into her soul and a grin lights up her face. “That’s kind of amazing. And considering the story you and Speech Boy have, how you met, it’s sort of perfect.”

“Kent.”

She swats me in the arm with the book. “Kent. Teadora Marzano, look at you having a crush. You’re usually too sensible.”

“You’re the big sister. Isn’t it your job to tell me what to do? How to fix this?”

Sophia’s laugh is a song. “There is no fixing it. And there’s no right thing to do. You can ignore it, or try to, but I vote that you savor it. From what I hear, he sounds like a good guy. I know you’re scared. I’d be worried if you weren’t. You care so deeply and you always put yourself to the side. It’s awful.”

I wince. “Since when is that so bad?”

“Since it keeps you from being happy.” I open my mouth to contradict her, but she silences me with a finger to my lips. “Oh no. You asked for my advice, you’re going to listen to it. You’re the most generous person I know, but you also let people take advantage of you sometimes and then everyone, including you, justifies it by saying that you’re just being helpful. But sometimes in life, you need to be a little bit selfish and others need to let you be. You and Kent have an amazing story. And sure, maybe it was just a meet-cute, but maybe it’s more. And you deserve more than just a cute beginning. You should get the happy ending and all the messy, crazy, awesome parts in between.”

Through the open door, I hear the rest of the house begin to stir. The aroma of Grandma’s coffee brewing floats up the stairs and along with muffled noises from the radio Dad always turns on before he takes a shower down the hall.

“It probably won’t last. We only ever really see each other at tournaments. He’s basically a stranger.”

“And you’re strange. It’s perfect.”

I glare at her, but it’s softened by my laugh and the shake of my head. “Not helping anymore.”

She stands up and yanks the blanket off me. “Hey! It’s cold!”

“Yeah, but you get used to it soon enough. And before you know it, you’ll be begging me to go outside with you because it’s really not so bad.” She offers me a hand to help me up before stealing and finishing the remaining hot chocolate. “You’re a rock star, Teddy. Don’t forget it. And if it doesn’t work out with this guy, I can always kick his ass.”

My family has always been touchy-feely, but I’m rarely the one to initiate contact. So when I give Sophia a hug, she knows how deep my affection and gratitude flows.

“Thanks, Soph.” I mumble into her shoulder, but a squeeze lets me know she hears.

“Okay. Now enough of this crap. Let’s wake up everybody else with a few dirty Christmas carols on the piano that I learned in the dorm last year.”

I don’t know if I’m bold enough to follow her words of wisdom where Kent is concerned, but this right now sounds like a great idea if I ever heard one. “Lead the way.”