Savy

With the crash of thunder, I shoot straight up. My breathing is heavy like I have been running. As my breathing calms, I look at the clock on my nightstand, 3:46 A.M., I need to sleep, but I know I won’t.

So instead, I swing my legs off the edge of the bed as I sit up, though still slouching with sleep. This is the third time this week I have woken in the middle of the night, and I cannot figure out why. I lay in my bed and think of anything and everything that will help me understand what is wrong with me.

With another loud bang of thunder, I hear the soft patter of rain tap my bedroom window. Pushing myself to my feet, I walk to the bathroom mirror and stare. Looking back at me, I see myself. The real me, not the person I show to the world, but the scared, insecure girl I have always been.

But have I? Have I always been this way?

Big brown eyes with flecks of gold that curve downward stare back at me. It is almost like I’m staring at a stranger. My long, brown, naturally curly hair, and golden skin with light freckles dusting my nose are the only features I recognize. Huge bags under my eyes show the stress and worry I live with every day. Twisting the knob, water shoots out of the faucet and I splash it on my face, not waiting for the water to warm. Turning off the water, I return to my bed without drying my face.

I have to be up in just a few hours, as it’s Ena’s last day of school, and I want to make sure she’s ready for her exams. I lay back down, the water cooling on my face and the sound of the rain dancing against the window panes. I toss and turn for a while, but mostly I stare at the ceiling for hours before I give up my attempt at sleep, and turn off the switch on my alarm clock before it goes off.

I head down the short, barren hallway to my tiny kitchen as I pull on my old ratty housecoat. The kitchen has a small two–person kitchen table, an old microwave that barely works, and a stove that is on its last leg. Starting coffee in my old coffee pot, I sit at the table and close my eyes while the coffee maker percolates.

I spend most mornings sitting in my little kitchen waiting for the dark elixir of life to finish. Today is no different, but my lack of sleep last night has me dragging this morning.

“Good morning, Savy!” Ena sings while strolling into the kitchen. “Can I have twenty dollars?”

“No,” I groan. I’m barely awake and the first thing out of her mouth this morning is about money. I’m not awake enough for this shit.

“Aww, come on seester,” Ena says, changing the word to the pronunciation she used as a child. “I know you have it. I’ll love you forever.”

McKena, Ena for short, is my baby sister. Being the baby of our duo, she usually gets her way. Typically after some whining or, often, arguing. She’s laying it on thick this morning. She’s smart too, asking for money before my coffee. As per her usual plan of attack, catch me when my defenses are down. The little shit.

Smiling to myself. I love Ena to death, but she’s too smart for her own damn good. As soon as the coffee maker stops, I pour myself a cup, filling it to the rim. Today I drink it black. I hate black coffee, preferring it with lots of cream and sugar, but when you are struggling for money, these are luxuries you can’t afford.

“Here,” she says. “I swiped these from the cafeteria at school.” She slides several packets of sugar and powdered coffee creamer across the table toward me, and my heart swells.

God. I love her so much.

“Thanks, baby girl.” I add my creamer and sugar, and I close my eyes as I sip my coffee, letting its warmth seep into my tired body. “Ena, if you want to eat next week, I can’t give you money.” I give her a pointed look so she knows I’m on to her game.

“I hate being poor.” She’s only seventeen and hanging out with friends on a Saturday night is a rite of passage at that age. I know this, but I live paycheck to three days before paycheck most weeks. If it weren’t for my tips down at the club, we would be screwed. Thankfully, the tips are decent, but not enough to pay all the bills and provide adequate meals and clothes for my sister. Teenage girls are expensive as hell. Who knew?

“Me too, kid,” I reply.

It’s true. I hate being poor just as much as Ena. Struggling to keep the lights on. Struggling to have enough food in the house. Sometimes I don’t eat as making sure Ena has enough food means I’m often left without. I would never allow my sister to feel those stabbing, shooting pains deep in your stomach that feel as if you might die.

I, on the other hand, feel those hunger pains most days.

“Yeah, okay, Sav.” The look on my sister’s face devastates me and the vice in my chest constricts so tight that I can hardly breathe. “Maybe I’ll just ask the girls to come hang out over here tonight.” Ena turns to leave our tiny kitchen.

“Hey.” The word barely makes it out of my constricted throat. I reach out and grab her hand stopping her progression out of the room. “I love you, kid. Go grab my purse.”

“Really?” Excitement warms her eyes causing the vice to loosen, but only a smidge. She rushes out of the kitchen to get my purse from the chair in the living room.

“Yeah really,” I whisper to myself, a small smile crossing my lips. Seeing Ena so happy and excited for something as simple as twenty dollars reminds me why I stepped up as her full–time caregiver.

Though the police would say I kidnapped her. I had an excellent reason, and I would do it again without batting an eye. She’s the only family I have left.

Everyone else is either dead or dead to me.

I’m happy I decided to give Ena the money, and I know it was the right decision. She’s a good sister and never gives me trouble. I’ll just have to work double shifts to make extra cash. I’ll have to ask Donny for more shifts.

Fuck.

Ena comes rushing back into the kitchen with so much excitement that I can’t help but give a full, toothy smile, her good mood pulling me from my thoughts. “You are crazy. You know that?”

“Duh! You love my craziness,” she states while grinning. “I’m just excited I get to hang out with Ashleigh and Natalie tonight. It’s been forever.”

I love how much Ena enjoys life. She loves the small things that life has to offer. She’s always been a sweet girl, and now she’s growing into a sweet, mostly well–adjusted young woman. Thank goodness she hasn’t picked up any of my bad habits. Except cursing. The girl can let them fly, but then so can I.

I often imagine that my mother is watching over us from wherever she is. I’m not sure I believe in heaven, but I hope she is beaming with pride at how Ena is turning out, minus the cursing of course. Me on the other hand, Mary Ann Riley is rolling over in her grave. I made promises to my mother before she died unexpectedly. Well, it wasn’t unexpected, just sooner than we all had hoped, and more dramatic too. And I have done none of the things I promised to do. The thought of disappointing my mother causes the vice to tighten again.

I’ll make you proud, Momma, I promise.

“I love you, McKena, so much.” Despite our past, Ena and I have always been able to express our feelings to one another. We can show our love and devotion to each other without the worry of judgment or pain. That has not been the case with other people. It’s easier to keep people at a distance. Distance prevents them from getting too close and hurting you. At least that’s the case for me. McKena doesn’t seem to struggle as much as I do, but I see her struggle. I see the shadows in her eyes, the pain underneath the surface, but we never talk about it. The past is the past, and nothing will ever change it, so we avoid it. It’s not healthy, but most days we are just trying to survive and barely doing it. I plan to get us both counseling. We will go one day, but we can’t afford it right now. Mental health is another luxury we cannot afford. “Where are you going tonight? Will there be an adult there?”

Rolling her eyes at my overprotectiveness, she says, “We are going to the movies. There is a new slasher movie out, and Ash and I want to scare Natalie. She’s always jumping, even when nothing scary is happening,” she says while shaking her head. “And, Ash’s mom will drop us off and pick us up. Can I spend the night too?”

“You know I need to talk to Ashleigh’s mom first, but I think that’s a good idea. I’m working late tonight.”

The joy from a minute ago is gone, replaced by a rumbling tension. Ena is now staring at the table in our small kitchen. “I’m sorry, Savannah.” She whispers so low that I almost don’t hear her, but I do hear her. I always hear her.

Setting my coffee mug down, I stand and round the table in a few short steps and stand next to her. I gently grip her chin, tilting her head up. She keeps her eyes on the table until she is forced to look me in the eyes. “What do you think you have to be sorry for, McKena? You haven’t done anything wrong, have you?”

“No. It’s just you have to work late because you are giving me money,” she says. “I can just hang out here tonight, Sav. I don’t have to go out.” Hating that my sweet baby sister feels guilty about wanting to be a teenager almost kills me. The vice tightens even more. “Maybe I should get a job, Savy. I can help with bills, and we will have more money.”

“No,” I say.

“But–”

“McKena Marina Riley, I said no,” I say, keeping my voice even. “You are not getting a job. You already have one, school. Or have you forgot? We have a plan, and I’ll be damned if you get a dead end job and your grades start suffering because of it. Do you understand me?” I sound more like her mother than her sister, but I don’t care. I made a promise to my mom, and I will kill myself to keep it. McKena will graduate high school and go to college. She has worked so hard at maintaining her grades and has already gotten letters from colleges offering full academic scholarships. Thank goodness for the scholarships because Lord knows I can’t pay for college.

Staring at me for a long moment, she relents, and turns her eyes back to the table. “Okay, Sav. No job.”

“Damn right no job.” Satisfied that this crazy idea is out of her head, I say, “Now, just know I won’t be able to give you any more money for a while okay, Pip?”

She looks up and smiles when I call her Pip. The childhood nickname I gave her when she was three or four. Short for pipsqueak, she had the cutest squeaky voice when she was little.

“I love that name.”

“I know you do.” Crisis averted, at least for now. A genuine smile flashes across my face. I’m thankful every day for the little moments I get to spend with Ena. Life has not been kind to us, but we keep pushing. I keep pushing. Without the determination to give Ena a better life, the darkness would consume my soul.