I picked up my arms and held them stiffly out to my sides. “I – am – an – alien,” I said, donning a high-pitched, machine-like voice and speaking slowly.
“Xiomara, come on, play with me!” my sister whined.
“Who – is – Xio – ma – ra?”
“Stop it,” Jasmine giggled, pushing my arms down to my sides. “Please, play with me!”
“I – don't – know – how – to – play. I – am – an – alien.”
“I – am – not – Xio – ma – ra. I – am – an – alien.”
Fat tears fell from my sister's light brown eyes, and her face was bright red. She raked her fingers through the curls of her dirty-blonde hair. She crumpled like a stomped-on can to the floor. “Xiomara's my sister! What'd you do to my sister?”
“It's okay,” I laughed, resuming my normal voice. “It's okay, I was just kidding. It's me!”
“No, you're not! Get away from me, you alien! Give me back my sister!”
I ran over to her and hugged her, concerned that she'd been fooled by my act. “I'm sorry, Jas, I was just kidding.”
I let go of her. “Yes, I'm Xiomara. You're my sister. We go to school and church together.”
“You're so mean!”
Over a decade later, my poor sister is still traumatized by that prank, and I have to say, I feel really guilty about it now. It especially hurts because that's the day I see as marking the beginning of the failing of my relationship with my sister.
After that, I wanted to play with her less and less, finding more interest in boys. My sister viewed it as abandonment, as rejection, and in a way it was.
But I love my sister, and I wish that I'd spent more quality time with her growing up because maybe we'd be on better terms today.
All I have to say is, Sorry, Sis. I love you.
This post is also linked to Pour Your Heart Out with Things I Can't Say.