The phone rings at 6:30 in the morning. When my father answers it, I can hear the tone of his voice change with each sentence that’s being said. He hangs up the phone a few minutes later and calls me into the living room. He says to me, “How would you feel about having another sister?” Me, being the lonely, awkward 12 year old child that I was, couldn’t think of a better thing to happen at a better time. Little did I know that it would be one of the worst things to happen at the best time.
I always kind of felt like I was an only child growing up. My brother and sister moved out when I was seven to live with their real mother. I was never really close to my siblings, they used me more than anything. When they thought they would get in trouble for something, they would involve me in it so their punishment wouldn’t be as bad. I was okay when they moved. As 6th grade came I had a few friends, not many. I was pretty self-conscience about my body and unhappy with my looks. I was making through though. I was pushing forward. When I found out that I might have another sister, I was excited. I would have someone to help me put makeup on, do my hair, talk about boys, I was all for it. So my Dad invited her to stay with us for a couple months.
My Mom, Dad, and I are all sitting in the airport waiting anxiously for the plane to land. I can’t sit still. All I can think is that I’m going to have another sister soon. The plane lands and we are all searching for her in the crowds of people bellowing out of the corridors. Then I see her. I get so happy and run up to her and hug and say, “I’m your little sister, you know that?”
As the months pass by, I slowly start to miss being the only child at the house. Every night she would bring a different man to the house. I didn’t like that at all. She would go out at night and not come back until 3 or 4 in the morning. We never talked like I pictured we would. Seemed like she cared more about men and having a good time than she...