Alone

Thea wouldn’t talk to her anymore. Unless it was about money or the well-being of her cat Rosie. Who could blame her, really? They exchanged short letters sometimes. It was a broken feeling when Eve saw her older sister dressed in orange, her pretty face split by metal bars. 

Or maybe it was an empty feeling. Makeup peeled off Thea’s pretty face and her bracelets unhinged. Her cold hands when they secured them with handcuffs. 

Thea was the type of sister who told Eve about happiness but left her at red train stations, all alone. In her letters she wrote like all sisters do, cradling every simple detail in the palm of her hand. Her handwriting was curly and Eve used to be entranced by Thea’s purple ink. When she asked her for money it was like she could see her pretty face in the lined paper, unsmiling. 

I want to return to our house, small and yellow and perfect, Thea wrote in one of her first letters. It’d been three years since then. Eve wondered if Thea still wanted to return to the house. Now it was gray and painted in cobwebs. She lived alone with Thea’s cat Rosie and she’d shaken hands with life. 

Once, during visiting hours, Thea asked her about it. Their home. 

“Can you be happy with your eyes closed and your sister in jail?” Eve asked her absentmindedly. It wasn’t an answer. 

Thea played with the sleeves of her jumpsuit. “Happy like the waves or happy like a robin?” 

“Happy like an Angel’s Trumpets’ purple flowers,” Eve decided, and moments after realized the flowers were the same color as Thea’s purple ink. 

That was Eve’s favorite visit. She wasn’t blinded by her sister’s pretty face and they didn’t talk about money. 

Thea didn’t let her visit anymore. She said she was tired and chained to the floors but Eve knew it was because she hated her younger sister. She didn’t let her visit and she didn’t write. Thea was never much of a writer, anyway. More of a looker. And a listener. 

Despite these facts, Eve checked the mail every day. Her mailbox was a chipping white. There were paint bits on the bricks and she remembered the days with colorful stamps. Like Thea’s pretty face, only more uncomfortable and bright. 

Eve thought of similes when she opened the mailbox on Tuesday. It was a peach day like the sunlight had been woven through the trees. She danced like candles do on dry winter nights and tore apart the envelope of her first piece of mail. There were only two. 

It was from the bank. The one with tanning pillars next to the park. The one with nasty men. It was a long letter with a picture of a bird in the corner. Eve didn’t bother to read it because she already knew what it said. This was the fourth one this month. Something about her parents leaving her no money and the bank having to repossess her house if she didn’t find the money quickly enough. Words that held no meaning to her, yet they threatened her home. 

She was not going to tell Thea about this, but she suspected Thea already knew. Thea was like that. She always knew the direction of the wind and what color the leaves would turn. The leaves were red, then, like they were on fire. Thea, with her pretty face, knew things and kept them to herself. 

The next envelope was pink. She hated the color but she opened it anyway. The paper was ripped. Big, brown letters spelled out two words that gave her an idea. 

Cookie Contest. Biggest cookie wins $2,000. 

Eve wasn’t a baker, and she knew this. But still she thought of her house and Thea. Thea wanted to return to their small yellow house and kiss her cheeks and apologize. She’d look into Thea’s pretty face and accept her words. Perhaps then Eve would ask her older sister why she was put in jail. 

The contest ended tomorrow. The bank needed the money and she’d get it soon. She’d also better hurry. It was mid-afternoon and she needed a huge cookie by 10 am. 

In her kitchen, Eve slammed an old recipe book on the table. “The images behind my eyes make me happy and that’s where I see my home.” Her voice echoed and she laid both hands on the walls. Some paint crumbled into her palm and she brushed it away. Thea would tell her to focus on what mattered and that’s exactly what she would do. 

A few hours later, ingredients were splashed up and down her apron. She’d used flour and vanilla and salt. After dumping an unknown amount of sugar into the bowl, Eve licked her fingertips and glanced at the ceiling. If the lights were yellow eyes, they were practically popping out of their sockets. 

She’d created a foot or two long cookie dotted with little chocolate chips. The edges crumbled away and she tossed little pieces into her mouth. Slightly burnt, but overall tasty. 

When she looked directly at the cookie the colors swirled and she saw Thea’s pretty face, smiling. She was hallucinating, she knew, but it was so rare to see her older sister’s lips part and so she stared at it for a while. 

The next day, Eve arrived at the address written on the envelope. There weren’t many people there besides a few old women with soft hands and some hard-working mothers with greasy hair. She was probably the youngest present and she knew if Thea was here she’d fit in perfectly. 

But she wasn’t. 

The judges merely glanced at her cookie and slapped a ruler across it. Hers was the first and she saw their frowns. Next was an old woman’s and when she smiled cracks formed in her face. 

A few minutes later, the air was thick and the judges cleaned their mustaches. They handed over a plastic prize and some bills to one of the mothers. Eve shook their hands and left. Soon after, everyone did. 

She walked back to her house. Thea always told her not to cry but just this once, she did. Tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping into her palms. They stained and stung, but she didn’t care. 

When she got home, she checked her mailbox. Nothing. Eve kissed her fingers and pressed them against the walls of the house. They listened like Thea did and held her when she fell onto the ground. 

I want to return to our house, small and yellow and perfect. 

Eve thought of Thea’s pretty face, divided by metal bars. And she was alone.