The Year I Turned Thirteen

My sister Delilah was the kind of girl that boys never forgot. She was the kind of girl who turned heads in the hallway, the kind who boys loved, but other girls loathed. My mama would always boast about Del to whoever would listen, as if looks outshined everything else in life. Mama never boasted about me like that. I was always the one whose name would trail second, almost like an afterthought. It’d always be Delilah and Denise, never Denise and Delilah. It doesn’t seem like a big deal, but when you’re the younger sibling, it means everything. It was never a spoken competition, yet, it was. All I ever wanted was for my name to come first, just once. I longed for my time to shine. But never did I ever want Delilah’s name to disappear.

January 6, 2000

Dear Diary,

Relationships with sisters are complex. You see, my sister and I would probably never be friends if we weren’t related. I feel like that’s true for most siblings. She probably wouldn’t even give me a second glance in the hallway if we were the same grade. Nope. I always thought girls like Del looked down on girls like me. But being sisters, you can relate and understand each other in ways that no friend ever could. You experience the same dysfunctional family together, endure every boring family gathering, roll your eyes at chores and bedtimes. Del and I shared a special bond that nobody else could ever measure up to. Yet… There were so many secrets. So many secrets that I was blissfully unaware of. I think it was to protect me. Maybe that’s why Del always smiled so big and hard. Looking back now, I still don’t know how Del kept that picture perfect smile. That smile that made hundreds of boys fall in love, that smile that hid so many secrets, that smile that hid a deep, unfathomable sadness that nobody caught. That nobody noticed. That nobody saw. Not even me.

I put down my pink gel pen and journal as I look out the window. A lone butterfly fluttered around the nectar feeder that I got from mama last Christmas. This one wasn’t particularly colorful as the rest of them, it was duller and smaller than its friends. Del loved butterflies, always had since she was in charge of taking care of the class caterpillar. Every fourth grader in our school got to raise a caterpillar and watch it turn into a beautiful monarch butterfly. When it was Del’s turn to bring it home, she guarded that thing with her life, checking on it every hour and documenting its progress. I never understood the whole enigma around butterflies, I mean, they’re basically the same thing as moths, but you don’t see anyone ooh-ing and ah-ing over a lowly moth. See, that’s the thing. People will disregard everything if something is beautiful. No matter what people say, beauty matters. And if you have beauty, then the world is your oyster. And it was for Del, as least, so we all thought.

December 3, 1999

Dear Diary,

Beautiful girls have boobs and perfect hair. At least, they do in every magazine I’ve ever seen. I’ve always wanted boobs. I mean, I know I’m only thirteen, well, almost thirteen, but this is the age when you’re supposed to get them!! Or at least show signs of getting them. I remember Del got them when she was my age, I remember mama taking her out to shop for a bra when she was twelve. She was always shapely and curvy, she had the figure of a woman at thirteen. Me? I’d be lucky if I could fill a jello cup with what I got. My mama and Delilah both have model-like features with their curves, perfect hair, and piercing eyes. Not me though. I’m not sure what went wrong with me. I look like a cartoon stick figure, not a soft curve in sight, with thin red hair and chocolate brown eyes. Mama and Del both have voluminous blonde curls with blue eyes. As you can see, I’m fairly convinced that I must’ve been adopted. I mean, I look nothing like them. And my daddy? Well, he’s just as good looking as them; handsome, tall, blonde, and with deep brown eyes. You see? I’m the odd one out. In family pictures, they’d look like the picturesque all American dream if it wasn’t for me. I was always off to the side, honestly, if they’d cut me out of the frame, you can probably use it as an ad for a picture frame. I wonder when I’ll be beautiful. Probably will never be as beautiful as Del, but still.

There was a diner that my daddy always took Del to when we were younger, Gib’s Diner. It was the highlight of our small town, serving the best chocolate chip pancakes in all of the state and being open till midnight. Although I went to Gib’s with the whole family on the weekends, I was never allowed on daddy and Del’s evening diner outings because I was three years younger than Del and had a bedtime. But even as I got older, daddy still only took Del to the diner without ever asking me if I wanted to tag along. It became known as their special daddy and daughter outing.

There’s always one night that sticks out to me to this day. I remember waking up one night thirsty and going downstairs for a glass of water. It was late, maybe close to midnight. My mama was dead asleep, I could hear her soft snores from the other room. I glanced out the kitchen window to see daddy’s red truck parked in the driveway. It was odd because Del’s room was empty. I peered closer through the window to see daddy leaned over in the backseat with Del. I wasn’t sure what they were doing, but before I could take a closer look, the backseat car door opened and shut with Del rushing inside. I quickly ran up the stairs to my room and shut the door almost all the way, leaving a sliver of space for me to peer through the crack. I could hear the footsteps of my sister speeding towards her closet, and then to the bathroom. She was in there for a long time, I could see the steam of the shower seeping in from under the bathroom door. I heard the front door open and shut as daddy made his way up to mama. Delilah finally turned off the shower and went to her room, turning on her salt rock lamp. I quietly tiptoed my way over to her room and opened the door to find her standing completely naked and motionless in front of her mirror.

“Del… What’re you doing?”

She didn’t say anything, but looked me in the eyes through the mirror. Her big, beautiful blue eyes looked empty. They looked… dead.

It was in that instance that our sister telepathy kicked in for me. I didn’t say anything. I shouldn’t say anything. I reached in her closet and grabbed her favorite pajamas. I’ve always loved those pajamas; they were a soft pink color with large, fuzzy white clouds sewn on top. I motioned for her to raise her arms as I pulled the oversized nightie over her head. I helped her to bed and pulled the covers over her body as she closed her eyes, making sure the thick quilt covered every inch of her tiny body. I turned off her lamp and left her room, quietly shutting the door behind me.

January 2, 2000

Dear Diary,

They say that parents never pick favorites among their children. But I don’t know how true that is. Even though mama and daddy always told me how much they loved me, they never quite doted on me as much as Delilah. It’s like even parents know. They know and grasp the power of beauty. Daddy always called Del his little girl, but never me. I guess I always just thought it was because she was the oldest and they shared a special bond that was before me. I never noticed how daddy’s hand lingered around Del’s belly during Christmas time when we sat on his lap as he played Santa. I never noticed how long their late night trips to Gib’s Diner were. I never noticed how intently he would stare at her when she would reach over for that extra dinner roll across the dining room table, exposing her milky décolletage. I never noticed. I should’ve noticed. I should’ve said something.

My mama’s name is Helen, named after Helen of Troy. According to Greek mythology, Helen was the most beautiful woman in the world, so beautiful she caused wars to erupt on her behalf. This is pretty fitting for my mama herself. Mama was always a force of nature, graduating at the top of her class in college and pursuing her law degree. Well, until she got pregnant with Del. When my mama got pregnant, she stayed at home while my daddy went out to work. She never went back to school. And we never asked why.

When we were younger, Del and I always looked up to mama, playing with her makeup and trying on her heels. My mama would laugh and swing back her glass of red wine, her cheeks flushed, as she turned on the record player to Cyndi Lauper. I never noticed how much mama drank. She always claimed that a glass of red wine a day keeps the doctor away. I guess the adult equivalent to an apple.

Mama was drinking and putting away laundry when she found Delilah. I remember hearing her open the door of my sister’s room and screaming. I ran to the room and saw that she had dropped her glass of wine on the floor. I remember seeing the dark red wine drip across the hardwood floors and seep over to Del’s plush pink rug. I always loved that rug. Del and I would lay on it as we looked up to the glow-in-the-dark stars taped on her bedroom ceiling. I kept my eyes focused on dark red wine slowly expanding its way through the rug as my eyes slowly started to glass over with tears. I couldn’t look further up. I couldn’t look above her dangling, lifeless feet. I couldn’t. I couldn't look at my sister like that. It wasn’t Delilah. It couldn’t be.

December 18, 1999

Dear Diary,

Mama forgot to make dinner tonight. My stomach was growling and I went to her room to ask when dinner would be ready, and found her passed out, face first, on her bed. I went over to wake her up, but I couldn’t. Daddy picked Del up from cheer practice today and they weren’t back yet. I’ve cooked a handful of times in my life, mostly just boiling some water to make ramen or Kraft mac and cheese. One more time couldn’t hurt, I guess. When I was pouring out the pasta water in the drainer, I heard the front door open and shut. When I turned around, I accidentally burnt my finger. Del raced over to me as she turned on the sink water to cold and helped me run my hand underneath it. I looked over at her to say thanks and noticed her uniform skirt was ridden up and the zipper broken. When I went to say something, she immediately changed the subject and said to forget dinner, we would order a pizza. I wonder what she did to rip her skirt, that uniform is everything to Del! I’ve always wanted to be a cheerleader, but Del said I have two left feet. Still, I always hoped she would hand her uniform down to me one day. Just so I can try it on once and pretend.

The day I turned thirteen, Delilah helped me get ready for my big party. It was my first boy/girl party and I was so excited. With Del’s help, I felt like Cinderella getting ready with her fairy godmother. She picked out an emerald green dress for me that made my fiery red hair pop. She dusted some shimmery peach blush over my cheeks and carefully placed some sparkly eyeshadow on my eyelids. As I watched Del sift through her makeup bag to find the mascara, I thought about how beautiful she was. Her soft blonde curls caressed her face and her naturally thick eyelashes fluttered around her blue eyes. She pursued her heart shaped pink lips as she pulled out two mascaras, settling for the black one. As she curled my lashes and applied mascara, she finally sighed and said, “Denise.”

“Yeah?”

“Quit staring at me you weirdo.”

We both laughed as she finished up my makeup with a cherry red lip gloss.

“Delilah?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I’ll ever be as beautiful as you or mama?”

Del put down the gloss and looked at me. She smiled and said, “Denise. You are beautiful. So beautiful. I wish you could see that. You’ll grow into your looks Denny, don’t worry.”

“I guess. But not like you Del. Maybe for my fourteenth birthday? Hopefully I’ll have boobs by then!”

Del buckled up laughing as she smiled at me.

“You’ll see Denise. You’ll see.”

“What do you mean you? What, you’re not planning on being there to see my boobs grow in all their glory next year?”

Delilah went quiet as she looked down at her hands. She looked up and smiled, but this time, it was different. It was a sad smile, one devoid of her usual sparkle.

“Of course I’ll be there.”

That was the first promise she ever broke.

February 1, 2000

Dear Diary,

It’s been one month since that night. I like to think that that night never happened, that it’s a joke. I’ll hear Del’s loud laughter echoing across the hall. I’ll see her blonde curls bouncing up and down in her ponytail as she comes down the stairs for dinner. But it’s not a joke. It's real. Mama rarely comes down from her room anymore. Daddy rarely comes home from work anymore.

They had a big fight the night it happened. When daddy came home, mama slapped him across the face. Hard. And then she broke down sobbing in his arms. I’ve never heard her crying like that before. He ordered me upstairs and shut the door so I couldn’t hear the things she was shouting at him, but I’m guessing she knew. She knew. She knew the whole time. He packed all his stuff into a suitcase and left that night. He knows she knew. Or at least knows now.

Did I know? Did I know this whole time?

I miss you Del. I’m so sorry.

I used to think that thirteen was a magical age. Thirteen is when girls become women, it’s like our coming of age. But it’s not really about the physical part. I’m thirteen now. Thirteen is when your eyes open. Not physically open, but mentally open. I like to think that Del wanted to shield me from the ugly stuff. But was being blissfully unaware better? I’m not sure. I don’t think so.

May 1, 2000

Dear Del,

You came to me in my dreams last night. It’s weird, it felt so real. I almost thought you were really here. Are you still using strawberry shampoo in Heaven, Del? You left before I could tell you, Peter Parker asked me to go to the movies with him! I know you said to play hard to get on the first date, but I was so happy Del. I wish you were here to help me get ready. Oh, and I think my boobs are finally coming in too! I guess I can forget about mama helping me, she's not really around much these days. I wish you were here Del. I wish you knew how much I missed you. I wish I could tell you how sorry I was. I miss you so much, Del. So much. Please come back.

Love, Denny