…
Like many who endured their school years with one endgame in mind, to get as far away as possible from those and the people in it, as soon as I completed high school, I was going to be on the first bus out.
Unlike others, there was nothing to keep in there, my father had died in the last year and my mother had moved on to a new family, and it was evident in not so many words that I was not welcome to stay.
Nor were there very many employment opportunities because like many other rural towns and cities, unless you were from an agricultural background, a tradesman, or simply wanted a dead-end job, there was little reason to stay.
Of course, there was always one minor hiccup in what could have been a perfect getaway.
Mine was called Francine Macallister.
We became friends in elementary school, not by choice but from being thrown together by circumstances. Her parents had died in a car crash when she was twelve, and my mother, being a close friend of the family, took her in rather than let her be taken into foster care.
As an only child, I hated the fact that I had to share my parents’ affection, and then when it seemed she was given more consideration. When we argued or fought, it was always my fault. It seemed to me that after a while, they liked her more than me.
It was like having a real sister, and I hated her. She was popular with the boys and often found ways to make my life difficult, and on several occasions found myself in a fight which I preferred not to be involved. All it did was reinforce my resolve to get on that bus.
That decision to leave was not made in haste, nor was I making a leap into the unknown.
For several years, I had worked several jobs to save every cent I could because I knew I was going to need a stake in case I could not immediately find work. I had a room lined up where I was going to stay until something better came up.
I told no one of my intentions because I didn’t want to explain why I was going, which I thought was obvious, or where I was going. But there were people I had to deal with, and this was a small enough town for everyone to know everyone else’s business if they were that curious.
I didn’t think anyone would care
Then, finally, school was over. I woke up that Monday morning, knowing that within hours, I would be out of this house forever. All I had to do was contain my excitement.
I had already packed my travel bag and left it at the bus depot several days before. When I left, it would be as if I was going down to the library to study up on work opportunities in the area, a routine I had maintained over several weeks, mostly to get out of the house, and to keep away from Francine and her friends.
At the end of the school year, everyone was home and in the dining room. Only recently, my mother had begun a relationship with another man, a widower with three children under 10 of his own, which she seemed to end up caring for. They were as snarky as Francine, and it forced me to move up my plans to leave.
With any luck, it was going to be the last time I saw any of them again.
Francine was dressed, ready to go out, and was eating some vegan cereal, having decided not to eat meat, and looked up as I came into the room. I saw the others and stopped.
“You’re up late,” she said.
I wanted to be fully rested for what lay ahead. “No need to get up until I get a job.”
“Not considering going to college?”
I’d been told there was no money for me to go to college a year or so ago and decided that I’d probably never be in a position to go. “No. Grades weren’t good enough. Probably should have studied harder.”
My mother glared at me. “That’s because you’re as useless as your father. The quicker you get a job and can pay your way, the better.”
Thanks for the compliment, Mom.
“Exactly my thoughts. I’m working on it.”
Francine took her plate to the sink and then came back. “I can see you’re off to the library. Mind if I come with you?”
It was the last thing I wanted. She’d never bothered before, and it set off alarm bells. And that expression on her face, she was up to something.
“Why?” It came out blunter than I intended.
“Why not?”
“You’re not interested in getting a job. Didn’t you say you were going to college?”
She was only going because her current boyfriend, Bradley Scott, the eldest son of the town’s hardware and agricultural machinery dealership owner, the richest family in town, was going, and she was joining him. There was only one problem, funding.
“I might. Bradley’s going, and he wanted me to go too.”
“Then perhaps you should be looking into college life rather than pestering me.”
“But I like pestering you.”
“Take your sister with you, Sam, and stop being an ass.”
“I hate to break it to you Mom, she’s not my sister. Never was, and never will be. And as much as you don’t care, she’s done nothing but make my life miserable.”
I saw the expression on Francine’s face, and oddly, I thought it was one of hurt. It was hardly possible given the way she had treated me recently.
“That’s a terrible thing to say, Sam.” My mother stopped what she was doing and looked at me.
“What, you think it’s been all wine and roses since she moved in? Wow. What planet have you been on? You know what. I don’t want to deal with this anymore. You think what you like. I’ll find a job and get out of your hair.”
That said, I walked quickly to the front door, opened it, stepped out onto the patio, and closed it behind me. I was going to wait for the bus into town, but instead, I was so very angry. I decided to walk off my temper.
By the time I reached the next intersection, about fifty years from home I heard someone coming up behind me.
I turned to see Francine.
She was probably the only person who could derail my plans.
It would create an unnecessary problem if I ignored her, so I waited until she caught up.
“What are you doing,” I asked. “You have never been interested in anything to do with me unless it involved Bradley and his idiot friends beating me up.”
“You hate me that much?”
“Would it matter if I did or didn’t? You’ve detested me ever since the day my mother took you in. Whatever life I had before that was gone and replaced with what could be described as hell on earth. Hate isn’t a strong enough word.”
“Is that why you’re leaving town?”
I glared at her. There was no way she could know what I was doing.
“You’re as delusional as my mother. Go home and figure new ways to make me miserable.”
I walked off, hoping she’d get the message.
Of course, she didn’t.
“Angie’s mother works at the bus depot. She said you got a ticket to New York. Didn’t say when you were going, but I’m guessing it’s soon.”
I shook my head. Of course, Francine would know someone with a mother who pried into other people’s business. They probably had a meeting of busybodies every Wednesday at city hall.
“Where would I get the notion I could do anything that smart or have the money. You heard my mother, I’m a good for nothing. You’ve even said so yourself. If anyone was leaving this dump, it would be Bradley and you. Prom Queen and King. You were ordained as the couple who were most likely to succeed.”
It came as no surprise that she and Bradley were given the money his father donated to the school.
She grabbed my shoulder and stopped me.
“You know, I’ve always had a notion that you liked me, Sam. I could never work out why you always simply ignored me. Just now, I can see why. If nothing had happened to my parents, we might have become more than friends over time. What you said back home, that the day I moved in it was the day your life ended. You meant your life with me, didn’t you?”
I had worked so hard to suppress any feelings I had for her. It would have seemed utterly wrong to suggest that I had. In a sense, she was right. Until the day she moved in, our lives together had been perfect. Now, it was reduced to just watching her make a fool of herself with others.
“It doesn’t matter what you think I think or thought or cared about. You have a life. I have a version of purgatory. I can’t live in that house, and my mother has made it perfectly clear. I’m not wanted with that new gaggle she’s invited in. Sleeping rough in the park is infinitely more preferable.”
“I treated you badly because I didn’t think you liked me anymore. I just suffered the loss of my parents, and then I lost my best friend in the world. Why didn’t you talk to me?”
“You know why.”
“We’re not related like you said. I was never your sister, and I never will be.”
“It’s not how the busybodies of this place will see it. You should be concentrating on landing the town’s biggest fish. He had rough edges, but I’m sure time and a big stick will sort them out. Now, whatever you think this was, it wasn’t. Go home, be happy. Forget I ever existed. My mother has.”
“You’re wrong. About a lot of things. But whatever. I won’t tell anyone. I don’t want to part ways with you thinking I’m the worst thing that ever happened to you.”
With that, she turned and headed back home.
At least she had one to go to.
I nearly changed my mind a dozen times during the day.
I spent a lot of time going over the words of that last conversation and realised that, at the time, I had been so wrapped up in my own self-pity that I hadn’t really listened.
Then, in a moment of clarity, I realised she said she believed I liked her? But was that at the beginning, during, or at the end? Certainly, I had been very much in love with her by the time she arrived at our house and at a time when I had been hoping it might go further.
The thing is, I had always liked her, but I never dared to tell her how I felt. That I was planning to do, and that’s when timing became my enemy. It was just before her parents had died.
It was that first brash moment of our teens when feelings ran high and every little nuance of a relationship could cause instant joy or utter despair. I had the feeling she felt the same as I did and was going to tell her.
Then, it all fell apart.
When she moved in, my instant joy quite literally turned to utter despair. There was no possible way I could ever contemplate a romantic relationship with the girl that everyone labelled my sister.
Society’s expectations did not include a romantic relationship between a brother and sister even if we were quite clearly not.
So, we became another of society’s expectations between a brother and sister. We began to fight like cats and dogs.
At first, I thought she was surprised, but my recollection of that time was scant because I was battling a broken heart and another of those teenage angst, getting through teens and being bullied at school.
Whatever happened, I did what I had to to keep the thoughts of her out of my head. I tried being the brother I thought she would expect to want and instead found her finding ways to make my life miserable. What was the saying? No good deed goes unpunished.
It didn’t matter in the end, whether I liked her or not or whether she liked me, which I seriously doubted. I couldn’t wait to get on that bus and leave town. Forever.
That walk from the library to the bus depot was the longest of my life. Still, the thoughts were swirling about the effect it would have on my mother and perhaps Francine. I was still telling myself neither cared what happened to me.
But what was worse, with everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, she was once again in my thoughts in a way she shouldn’t be. I had to get my head in the right space. Otherwise, I was going to be just as miserable. Only the view out the window would be different.
I picked a night when there would be more activity at the bus depot because being the only person I would stand out.
I was planning to leave unnoticed, and so far, half a dozen other passengers were sitting along the seats. One thing I’d noticed every time I’d come to check it out, no one came to see anyone off and rarely was anyone there to greet arrivals.
Perhaps no one cared if you left and perhaps arrivals didn’t want people to know they’ve returned. Whatever the reasons, it suited my stealthy departure.
My thoughts were interrupted by an announcement that the bus was running ten minutes late, then by another passenger who was leaving, sitting two seats up from me.
I turned to glance in her direction and recognised her immediately. Francine.
“What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“I’m leaving this town. There’s nothing here for me anymore.”
“You have a family, a home, and people who care about you.”
I gave her my best, incredulous look. “What planet are you from, and what have you done with the real Francine?”
“Why are you really leaving?”
“It doesn’t matter. Go home and forget about me.”
It was her turn to look incredulously at me. “That would be difficult, Sam. Had you asked me this morning how I felt about you, we might not be here.”
“It would not. No matter what I feel or what you feel, it can’t be.”
“Because we’re brother and sister. Even though this morning, I was never your sister. I wondered about that statement and initially thought it meant that I’d never acted like one, even though I know you tried to be a brother. Then I realised, later, what you meant. We had been friends before I moved in. I had hopes that we might be special friends, I liked you that much, and perhaps at that time, it was the first pangs of love. I thought you felt the same.
“I was disappointed that events turned out the way they did, but it was better than going into the foster system. It ruined any chance we had of taking our relationship further. Bradley used to say that you were in love with me. I think you came to the conclusion, that our new situation would never allow our feelings for each other, long before that, simply because we were, in his and everyone else’s eyes, brother and sister.
“You were right, of course. We’re not. It was the reason why I stayed within the foster system and kept my name. I refused to be adopted or change my name to yours. I had this silly notion that eventually you’d get out of your funk, and we could run away together. I wanted to leave too, but like you, I couldn’t until I was eighteen.
“Well, this morning I told your mother I was leaving. I thanked her for the five years she put up with me. She asked if you were going with me? It was a curious question, and I said no. She simply shrugged and handed me an envelope with a bus ticket and an address where I could find a friend of hers. The ticket is for this bus. Your bus. And I suspect the friend’s address is yours. Your mother is no fool, Sam. She’s known the anguish you’ve suffered. Once I realised how much you loved me, the last five years made complete sense.
“You could have told me at any time. You might have saved yourself a lot of anguish. But men are all the same, trying to be the strong, uncomplaining silent type.” She shook her head. “You’d better be a lot more communicative from now on.”
She stood and held out her hand. The bus was pulling into the bay. Three others getting on were moving towards the gate.
I took it in mine, and all the grief of the last five years melted away. She smiled that beautiful smile that could light up a room and a smile that had been missing for so long. A tear ran down her left cheek.
“And don’t ever make me give another of those speeches ever again. Ever, you hear.”
“I promise. Hey, what about Bradley. You two seemed very cosy together.”
“That. That was just to make you mad. It seemed it worked almost too well.”
“Then don’t do it again.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
The ticket collector was waiting impatiently by the door waiting for us. We crossed to the door, gave him the tickets which he punched, and then got on the bus.
There were two seats side by side about the middle. She sat in the window seat, not that there would be much to see. I got comfortable and then took her hand in mine. She smiled when I looked at her.
“Ready?”
“I am.”
She squeezed my hand, the door closed, and the bus moved away from the bay. For better or worse, we were on our way. A last glance back, I momentarily wondered if either of us would ever come back.
One day, maybe.
…
