Sewing together the rip in my family

Sewing Together the Rip in my Family

By Parker Koltchak

I miss Piper. I remember the night I told her the first bed time story I ever wrote. How she thought it wasn't possible that I, so young, could possibly write a story. She was only five.

"And then, the girl played with the other kids and they were all happy. The end." Piper's big, blue eyes shine with curiosity. "And they never called her names again?" she wondered. "Never." I confirm. "Huh..." she seems lost in thought. "Who wrote that one?" she asks me. I smile plays on my lips. "I did." I answer. "What??" she sits up suddenly. "Really?" Her small mouth forms the shape of an oval. "Wow, Claude." I laugh. "Come on, Piper, lay back down. Momma won't like it if you're awake." I kiss her soft forehead. "Goodnight, Claude." Her eyes close and her breathing becomes slower and is rhythmic. I turn on her "Olaf the snowman" nightlight and gently shut her pink door. My socks don't make a sound as I slip past unpacked boxes and pause at the top of the stairs. "I'll show her this middle school- Paul, how does this sound, Oakwood MS?" I can almost vision my brother turn around to see my future middle school.

I remember how excited I was to move, and how I  didn't want to go when I found out we were moving to the city that never sleeps. How I loved France, and all my friends, and how hard it was for me to learn English. How me, Callie, and Annabella (My best friends) cried for days. And how I was just adjusting to New York, how I was getting so good at English, and I was making friends- until it happened. I refused to speak in English, I refused to go to school, I wouldn't talk to my friends, and I suddenly hated New York. I remember the horrible day...

Momma looked at the kitchen clock as she cooked her rice. "They should be here by now." she said. And, as if on cue, the phone rang. Momma wiped her hands and picked it up. "Hello?" she said. "Yes. Yes. What?" her eyes grew wide and she dropped the phone. "Come on, Claude, we're going to the hospital."

I remember getting to the waiting room. Saying our names and then dashing to the room.

"I'm Danielle DePaulle- Äævoir. This is my daughter. We are here to see Piper." The lady gave us a sympathetic look. "Oh, Piper Äævoir? right upstairs, miss. Your son would not stop speaking French, we sent you a translator." But me and momma didn't listen. We dashed to room 2b and immediately Paul ran over. "Piper! Car crash! Hurt!" he spoke rapidly in french, we could only make out those words. Momma rushes over to Piper. "My baby, my poor baby..." The door opens and a doctor comes in with my father. His eyes widen as he see's Piper, plugged into all sorts of machines filled with liquid, probably the ones keeping her alive. Her breathing is short and labored, and nothing moves. No twitch is the finger, no furrowed eyebrows, everything is very still except for her rising and falling chest. "Please go outside while I run some tests." The doctor tells us. We wait outside for about an hour. The doctor comes out and even before he shakes his head, we know. His eyes are sympathetic, and his hands shake as he grips his clipboard. He looks as if he failed in life, even though it's just another lost child, just another limp body from a fire, or disease, or car crash, or anything. Momma breaks into sobs, daddy puts his head into his hands. Paul grabs his coat and runs out, probably going somewhere private to cry. Me, I just sit there. Not really accepting it. Not accepting that our little Piper is gone. Dead. Just like that.

After that day I believed that it's hardest for the mom and sister, when you lose a little girl. Momma birthed Piper, fed and cleaned and changed piper, bought things and gave things to Piper. Momma dealt with her meltdowns, with her bullies... Momma raised Piper. People say "It's hard to lose a child." I think that's an understatement. It's also very hard to lose a sister. I'll never giggle over boys with Piper. I'll never see her grow up. We'll never have "Sister time." I'll never know what she would be like when she's older. I don't know what happens after you die, but hopefully I'll see her again one day.

"It's all my fault." "Its because of me!" "I'm such an idiot." That's all Momma and I hear from Paul over the course of the week. Then, he goes silent. He sits in front of the T.V., not speaking to anyone. I need to find something that will show him it wasn't him. I tried everything. Begging, bribing, crying- I even looked up the car crash and explained it wasn't his fault. I told him: "It was a drunk driver! Look, you were driving normally, and this guy went through a red light, and hit the part of your car right where Piper was sitting!" He stares at me. "Five words." He says. "I should have been more careful." I sigh and grit my teeth. "That's six words." say, frustrated. Then I storm off.  "What do I do?" I sob to momma. "Sometimes, you just have to tell them the truth." She says gently. "But I tried that! He still thinks it's his fault!" She smiles. "The OTHER truth." "What's that supposed to mean?" I say angrily and stomp into my room. After days of thinking about what momma said, I finally get it. I practice a couple times before going up to Paul. "Paul." I say to get his attention. He looks at me. "I know you might never accept the fact that it wasn't your fault. But you have to know that losing Piper has placed a huge bucket of sadness on our family. These past few days have been extremely painful. But, Paul, you could help that. You sitting on the couch and staring blankly at a screen you aren't even paying attention to isn't helping anyone. All you are doing is feeling bad for yourself. Please, make this easier for everyone and get off the couch and TALK to us!" I open my eyes, expecting a glare, but Paul is crying. "I- I'm so sorry... I didn't realize..." he whimpers, at loss for words. I hug him. "So you'll stop?" He smiled. "Of course." My eyes widen. "I did it." I bounce a little. "MOMMA I DID IT I REALLY DID IT!" I healed my brother. I fixed the glue on my falling apart family. Tonight my dad will come home from work to see my brother at the dinner table, smiling and laughing with the rest of us. And I'll feel proud, knowing it was me who sewed together the hole Piper ripped in our family.