Azaleas for Susie

Areida · 2007-12-14T04:57:21Z

It rained the morning you were born. I was six, and furious with our parents for daring to have another child. They had our older brother—the golden-haired, athletic son any parents would be proud to have—and they had me—the brunette musician with a flair for the dramatic. We were lovely children—why did they need you? Luke’s hair wound itself into tight ringlets in the evening after his bath that softened to gentler waves by morning. My hair was straight, and I always insisted on wearing it parted on the side, with a matching barrette to hold it out of my face. Eight-year old Luke wore his racecar pajamas that morning. He lay on his stomach beside the Christmas tree and indolently flicked at the ornaments on the lowest branches. “Mommy hates it when you do that,” I informed him from my seat at the piano. We had an adjustable piano stool, which allowed me to reach the keys with ease, but my feet dangled far above the floor. “Mind your own business,” he said. He flicked another ornament, then sighed and rolled over on his back. He yelled the babysitter’s name, and asked if he could go outside and play. “No, you can’t,” I said. “Because—“ “I know, I know,” he cut me off. “Because it’s raining. I can see out the window just as good as you.” “But it’s not just raining. It’s pouring. It’s raining cats and dogs. It’s a monsoon, it’s a flood, it’s a disaster!” I hopped off the piano bench and padded quickly across the floor to sit beside him. “It will rain for days—days and days and days—and we will wonder if there was ever a time when it wasn’t raining.” Luke had been scowling at me at first, but when he realized that I had begun one of my stories, he smiled a little, and rolled back over onto his stomach, looking up at me. Delighted at holding my big brother’s attention, I continued. “We’ll have to leave this house, and find higher ground. It will be someplace far, far away from here, and we will probably never be able to return. It will be a great tragedy for our city—probably the whole state. And if the rain doesn’t let up, the whole world! Not very many people will survive.” Luke rolled over onto his back again, tapping an ornament with one finger, watching it swing back and forth. Outside, it rained harder. “But our whole family will make it to a safe place, and we’ll build a new house. Probably not as big as this one, or as nice, but it will be safe, and it will be ours, and that will be enough.” Rain striking the window made an angry, percussive noise, and my words trailed off into nothingness. Moments later, the phone rang. The peaceful moment shattered as Luke bolted from his place on the floor and dashed to the phone. “I GOT IT, I GOT IT!” he screamed, and picked up before the babysitter could. He listened intently, then his face fell. “Oh. Cool.” He handed the receiver to the babysitter and shuffled away. “It’s a girl,” he said. “I guess they’ll name her Susanna, like they wanted to.” “Guess so.” I sighed. “Even her name is better than mine.” “Do you think they’ll call her Susie for short?” Luke asked, without much interest. The gloomy expression on my face matched his. “Our lives are over,” I said solemnly. “I wanted it to be a boy,” he said petulantly. “Why are you so mad? At least you’re still the only son. Now I’m the horrible older sister. They’ll lock me away in a tower, with nothing to eat but crumbs! They’ll raise her like she’s a princess, and she’ll wake every morning to beautiful music and I’ll waste away to nothing.” I moaned and hid my face in my hands. My lot was really most tragic. “Oh, they’ll give you more than crumbs,” Luke said. “That is not the point.” “Well...” I looked up at him and flung my hands out in desperation. “Well what?” “I’ll bring you a grilled cheese.” I stared at him. “You can’t.” “How come?” “My tower will be far away from here, and very dangerous to travel to.” Luke shrugged. “So what? I can take a plane or something.” “But it will be heavily guarded, with poison thorns all around the bottom, and a mile high. You won’t even be able to see the top of it from the ground.” “I can climb it,” Luke said confidently. I fingered one of the little bows on my nightgown. “You’d do that?” I asked him. “Yeah. It’ll be easy.” I sniffled. “I don’t want to go to the tower.” “Hey.” He put his arm around my shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. If you have to go to the tower I’ll come see you every day, and I’ll always bring a grilled cheese.” “Promise?” “I promise.” They brought you home the next day, around lunchtime. The roads were icy those few days before Christmas, so we didn’t go see you in the hospital. I was angry with you, because I had decided that it was your fault I hadn’t seen my mother for days. I don’t remember much about our first meeting, except that I thought you thoroughly ordinary, and I pitied you for being born third, when Mommy and Daddy already had two wonderful children to compare you to. At first, Luke and I did all we could to ignore you. But Luke was always intrigued by novelty, and within the first few hours of your arrival, he had already turned into another one of your minions, bowing and scraping and running about, serving your every whim. By the end of the day, he loved you, and I was sick with envy at no longer holding the exclusive rights to his affection. You cried every night the first week you were home. Luke never woke up, but I heard it—those irritating, piteous cries that lasted for hours—and I hated you even more. At first I tried ignoring you, but that soon proved impossible. By being born, you had earned a place in the hearts of every member of my family. I didn’t understand. All you did was coo and cry and scream and poop and spit and sleep and kick your fat legs. Anyone could do that. I resented you for the next two years. Without ever trying, you were everybody’s favorite. I didn’t even care that my name was your first word. “Marta,” you said, and smiled up at me. “My name,” I informed you coolly, “is Martha.” “Marta,” you repeated, waving your fists. Everyone was so excited about your first word that they all started calling me Marta. The name doesn’t bother me anymore, but at the time, it was infuriating. It wasn’t my real name, but all the adults in my life were making fools of myself by indulging a baby who didn’t know or care that she’d gotten her way. My real reason for hating you, though, sprang from the fact that our family and friends had every reason to adore you. You were perfect. It was as if our parents had taken all the good things about me, and all the good things about Luke, and watered down our bad qualities, and put them in this third child. The result was a harmonious mixing of hot and cold, light and dark. Your hair, in contrast to Luke’s blonde ringlets and my flat, dark hair, was a lovely, light shade of brown that framed your round little face in wispy waves. We all had dark brown eyes, but yours were loveliest of all—framed by thick, dark lashes that were captivating. You were never as dramatic as me, but you were always animated, and people were drawn to you. You had Luke’s natural athleticism, but at only two years old already wanted to learn to read and write. You were curious, charming, adorable, delightful. In short, completely nauseating. And that is why, dear, sweet Susie, I can never forgive myself. I’m sorry—so, so sorry. I can never say it enough, because on that clear morning in April, I committed the greatest sin of all. We were going to the library to study together, then out for lunch, then manicures, then a movie. It was going to be our day. I was seventeen, due to graduate from high school the next month, and you had agreed eagerly to this sisters’ outing. I’d stopped hating you long ago, once you really got started talking, and I realized how funny you were. We had been friends for eight years, since you were three, and even though the age difference was significant, I think I loved you more than the rest of your admirers, because you weren’t just my little sister—you were my friend. “I think you should get a haircut too, while we’re out,” you said. “Why?” “Something short and sassy. To transition you from high school to college.” I laughed. “I don’t think a haircut is going to make much of a difference.” “No, it will. If the layers are done properly they’ll frame your face beautifully and you will appear much older, which will be great for all those college parties.” You were eleven and loved the beauty tips in the teen magazines I brought home every now and then. I usually ignored them, because they all sounded the same and rarely had anything interesting to say, but you devoured them, and always informed me if there was something you thought I needed to know. “I don’t think I’ll be going to many parties,” I told you dryly, but you just shook your head. “Nope, sorry, you’re wrong. You’ll be so popular it will make all the sorority girls sick with envy. And you’ll have a different date every weekend.” “Right,” I said. “Because I’ve had so many of those in high school.” “The boys here are losers,” you said with a disdainful little sniff. “In college, they will appreciate you.” I doubted it, but you seemed to have your heart set on it. “All right,” I agreed. “I’ll cut my hair.” I glanced over at you. “If you want.” “I do,” you said, with a decisive nod. There was a pause. I was thinking about leaving home, thinking about how much was going to change. “Should I cut my hair?” I looked over at you. Your soft, brown hair hung in waves on your shoulders, but it had always been manageable at any length. “I think you’ll look great no matter how your hair is cut.” You beamed at me, and I turned down the radio so I could focus on you more easily. The traffic was unusually heavy for this time of morning, especially en route to the library, of all places. I grinned. “Hey...you want to get matching haircuts?” “Yes!” Your smile turned a little sheepish. “If you don’t think it’s too cheesy.” I shook my head. “Nope. I think it’ll be great. And it’ll make me feel closer to you when I leave.” I paused. “I’m really going to miss you, Suz.” “Me too, Marta,” you said softly. Without taking my eyes from the road, I reached over and took your hand. It was slender and pale, just like mine, and I thought of all the piano duets we had played together since you’d started your lessons. You knew was I was thinking, and squeezed my hand. “We can play duets over the phone, right?” My eyes filled. “Yeah, of course,” I said. “Of course we will.” You sighed and leaned against the window without letting go of my hand. “Okay.” There was another pause, and I had just managed to get a hold on my emotions when you said, “I love you.” I looked over at you. “I love you too,” I said. I didn’t see it. Neither of us did—that huge, silver truck barreling out of nowhere. Maybe that’s not true. I did see it, but only for a millisecond before it hit the side of the car. It smashed into the window where you were resting your head, and the glass shattered and the car dented in so far it nearly folded in half and we went spinning across the pavement, ricocheting off other cars before we rolled—once, twice, three times—into the ditch. I screamed and screamed and shut my eyes, but those moments when we were upside down seemed to stretch into eternity. We landed upright. I couldn’t hear anything. I was dizzy and my arm had been so thoroughly crushed that I was certain it couldn’t be saved. They were going to amputate my arm, and I’d be a freak. Forget the haircut, what I needed was a prosthetic arm. “Susie...” I moaned. You didn’t answer. I opened my eyes, managing to turn my head just enough to look at you, then wished I hadn’t. I stared at you, even though it wasn’t really you anymore. You were gone, and only your body—your perfect hair and your beautiful eyes and your charming smile—was left behind. I didn’t see the blood, didn’t see the horrible thing that had happened to you. I just saw the empty shell that was once my little sister, and I couldn’t breathe. When they pulled me out of the car they had to pry my hand from yours; we had still been holding hands when the truck hit. My arm, two ribs, and my shoulder were broken, but the most painful part of my removal from the car was when they peeled our fingers apart. I started crying then, and calling your name. Susie, sweetheart, wake up. Please, Susie, say something. Susie, Susie, please, please don’t go. They laid me onto the stretcher and I stared up into the sky. I looked straight into the sun without blinking, and my hair tickled my face as the soft, spring breeze brushed it across my face. We had landed in an azalea bush, and the fuchsia flowers were scattered on the ground. A battered azalea had somehow found its way onto my stomach, and I cried harder as I watched it sway when they lifted me up into the ambulance. After your funeral I knelt down in front of your grave. As the dew seeped into my black skirt, I carefully laid a lock of my dark hair onto your grave, beside a pair of fuchsia azaleas—one big, one small. It rained the morning you were born, but Susie—sweet, beautiful, baby sister—the morning you died, the weather was perfect.

Earthfire713

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Wed May 19, 2010 11:04 pm

Earthfire713 says... · Wed May 19, 2010 11:04 pm

This was beautiful. I especially loved how you used the word "you". It made me think that Martha was standing by Susie's grave as she talked to her.

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Yuriiko

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Thu May 20, 2010 4:42 pm

Yuriiko says... · Thu May 20, 2010 4:42 pm

Hello there!

Great piece.

I was going to nitpick or critique this but then I noticed... hmm... there are no grammar mistakes or anything that needs to be corrected. :wink:

The spellings and tenses are perfect.

I love your characters and how you portray them really looks realistic, especially Martha. Her envy and love towards her sister is totally believable.

It didn't actually made me teary in the end but I felt sad and sorry for Susie because of that tragedy, which is kind-of nice by the way, that we readers can feel too the emotions of the narrator. :mrgreen:

One thing, maybe try to lessen the spaces bet. paragraphs. :wink:

Overall, I really like this!

Peace out! :smt004

"Life is a poem keep it in the present tense." -Sherrel Wigal

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homesickatspacecampp

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Fri May 21, 2010 1:21 am

homesickatspacecampp says... · Fri May 21, 2010 1:21 am

Wow, that was incredibly beautiful! I loved the tone, and its consistency throughout the story. You really have a great way of getting readers hooked.

eat. sleep. laugh;)

i'll never live the dream of the prom kings and the drama queens, i'd like to think the best of me is still hiding up my sleeve(:

take it from the top(:

DAG y'all i never understood why the jocks get all the flyy girls, and me, i get the hood rats(:

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TigerShaard

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Sat May 22, 2010 7:12 am

TigerShaard says... · Sat May 22, 2010 7:12 am

I just have to say, wow. Five trillion times wow. This literally made me cry, thats how moving it was.
I've got two younger sisters, but I remember when the first one was born. I was so angry at them for having another baby. This just struck a cord in me. Pulled ALL of my heartstrings, if you will.
God, you're good, I loved it.

~Shaard

I hate cynicism -- it's my least favorite quality and it doesn't lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you're kind, amazing things will happen. I'm telling you, amazing things will happen. - Conan O'Brien

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Writerchick

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Sat May 22, 2010 4:33 pm

Writerchick says... · Sat May 22, 2010 4:33 pm

it was well wrriten and i loved the last line.
well done dude
thumbs up

Alex: I didn't set fire to the building.

Ash: No, but you did pull it into the river.

Alex: That put the fire out!

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Seraphina

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Sat May 22, 2010 6:00 pm

Seraphina says... · Sat May 22, 2010 6:00 pm

Oh no! Why is Suzie dying? *eyes filling*

It's so sad! But what a beautiful writing!

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JaneThermopolis

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Sat May 22, 2010 6:18 pm

JaneThermopolis says... · Sat May 22, 2010 6:18 pm

This was absolutely, positively beautiful.
I have no nitpicks to point out.
Great job!
Please please please KEEP WRITING!
-Jane

Apple of my soul,
Eats me whole,
Take one bite,
No delight,
Rotting hole.

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Thefadedphotograph

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Mon May 24, 2010 5:55 am

Thefadedphotograph says... · Mon May 24, 2010 5:55 am

I haven't read a short story on here that has really interested me yet, but out of them all this one sparked my attention the most. It had a consistent beat to it which played thoughout the entire story. I was left feeling a bit empty by the end of it. That last sentence lays frozen in time. I really loved this. It was great.

"I know I can't slow down, I can't hold back
Though you know I wish I could
Oh no, there aint no rest for the wicked
Until we close our eyes for good." ---Cage the Elephant 'Ain't No Rest for the Wicked'

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Jenthura

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Mon May 24, 2010 1:19 pm

Jenthura says... · Mon May 24, 2010 1:19 pm

Wow. That was amazing. I'm sorry about putting up yet another one of those, 'I have no review or critique here but I'm gonna say ZOMG about your writing anyways because I'm such a loser at it'...but that's the way the ball bounces. *likes*

-ж-Ж-ж-

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Areida

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Mon May 24, 2010 1:39 pm

Areida says... · Mon May 24, 2010 1:39 pm

Wow! Not sure what brought this up again, but thank you all so much for reading and then taking the time to leave your comments!

I posted this in December of '07, which was before we had the different formatting options, so that's why the paragraphs looked so funky. Hopefully they're better now - thanks for pointing that out, yuriiko!

Got YWS?

"Most of us have far more courage than we ever dreamed we possessed."
- Dale Carnegie

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GenShawklan

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Mon May 24, 2010 8:22 pm

GenShawklan says... · Mon May 24, 2010 8:22 pm

Oh. My. Gosh.

That was AWESOME!!! I love it! Great job!

The only thing I found was that I believe it's spelled 'fuschia.'

~GenShawklan

"Stop being defined by what people think of you." - Glee

"Dare to be different; if you blend in, no one will ever notice you. It's the unique ones they remember."

Please review one of my writings (preferably All I Know of Hate) and I'll return the favor!

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Areida

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Tue May 25, 2010 3:21 am

Areida says... · Tue May 25, 2010 3:21 am

Thank you so much for reading and leaving a comment, GenShawklan! You sent me to Word just now to double-check the spelling, but it's actually fuchsia. Weird word, right?!

Thank you again for your kind comment and the nice PM. I hope you're enjoying YWS so far! It's really a great place.

Got YWS?

"Most of us have far more courage than we ever dreamed we possessed."
- Dale Carnegie

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budding writer

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Tue May 25, 2010 7:51 am

budding writer says... · Tue May 25, 2010 7:51 am

hey there!!
first off i'm going to say that this was a very beautiful story. gosh, i can remember feeling that way when my little brother was born and i was like around 6 yrs old. seriously, i used to really hate my brother cause i thought he was always better than me, but now he is like the person that i'm closest to after my best friend. so i liked the way you described it and i can easily imagine what you were writing about in my mind. i mean all i can say is very nice. please keep writing more like this!!

-budding writer

## My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations ##

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Nike

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Tue May 25, 2010 2:46 pm

Nike says... · Tue May 25, 2010 2:46 pm

Oh My God. You made me cry!!!! It Was perfect just perfect and very sad. At first i thought "What? Did she kill her?" but then it said that she stopped hating her. I knew that she wa gonna die-and since it said the the MC stopped hating her i was wondering "A car crash?" then it happened. Shocking! Perfect weather on death sad weather at birth-i was like a sign that said "Even though she lives-she will die soon" but she had a great life till then. PERFECT> Keep writing PLEASE!
Nike

"If I look like a monster,' he says roughly, 'then no one will be surprised when I do monstrous things." - A.B. Poranek

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Pozoe12

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Tue May 25, 2010 11:12 pm

Pozoe12 says... · Tue May 25, 2010 11:12 pm

I'm sorry I don't have time for a real review, but I just wanted to say two things. One, this was great. I absolutely loved it

Two, why is this in romantic fiction? After I read it, it just kind of seemed like it would be better suited in Other fiction, or something like that. I don't know. Think about it though. Other than that, though, great job!

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