A Division's Remainders

She heard the news of his death from social media. This was a pretty antisocial way to hear about something so direct and personal to her. 

She was not anticipating having any kind of emotional reaction to such news. On the contrary, she thought that she would have felt indifferent about his death. A “good riddance” feeling. If anyone knew what she had been through, they would not blame her...Yet, her momentary feeling was a very unexpected but distinct experience; She felt that something was poking her somewhere very deep, yet the only place she could place this feeling was on her skin. She had chills. 

At the moment she was unable to grasp the fact of his death. She rather was consumed about his choice on the timing of his death. How could he die today, that her agenda was so packed? Even his death had to be intrusive, imposing, and, for one more time, indifferent to her plans! “So typical of him!” From all the days it had to be today! Couldn't he have waited for when it was her vacation or something? But then again, she would have to deal with this irritating feeling when she was supposed to relax. “So typical, always unexpected and egocentric!” “Why couldn't he have waited?” Waited for what, though? 

This of course was not the first time that she felt that she and her needs were not taken seriously: she always had that feeling that he would plan his arrangements on other-than-her priorities. First memory when she was trying to balance on her bicycle. I mean, it is not that he wouldn't help her, but it always turned out that he would be there AFTER he was free from work or from Her. Ugh! He always had more time for Her. And now that she is thinking about it, she is pretty sure that his death suited Her schedule. She wouldn’t be surprised to hear that they planned his death based on Her agenda. Father was a true advocate of the 8:8:8 division of time rules. But, surprisingly enough, she still felt that she would get the smallest portion of the 8 hours of his Leisure time, its remainders, its leftovers. This was not a fair share! Unless of course, She was around, and then she would get a few more pieces of his time.

He would constantly remind them “You are cousins, you have nothing to divide between you two”, yet this was not the case. They had to divide his love. But why did they even have to share him? Was the fact that her cousin never met her dad the real reason for her father being so involved in her life? Or was it that he was disappointed with her already from the beginning of her life, and thus decided to invest more in the other girl, the apparently better one? They even looked kind of similar so he must have felt that this could have been his better daughter. On the other hand, she can clearly remember how lovingly he was looking at her, whenever she caught him glancing at her, even when her cousin was around. That, she can not erase from her memory. 

***

On the other end of the city, another girl, not even a year younger than the daughter, was sobbing above the death bed of her Uncle. This man is gone. What will remain of him will only exist in her memories, as she did not expect any heritage. He was not a rich man, there was not a lot to pass on to the family, and if there was, she imagined that it would go to his daughter. She still has these mixed feelings for her cousin.

Uncle was there as a father figure to her, given that she never met her own. She grew up with her mom (that is the sister of her cousin’s mom), and since the start of her life Uncle was there. She knew she had no dad, but she felt like she had one. Uncle’s love felt complete. And although he was not there all that time, as he had his own family to take care of, what remained from him was enough for her until his next visit. She did feel bad about it though. She was aware that her cousin was bitter about it. As if she was blowing the candle of her cousin’s birthday cake, stealing her wishes and the attention. As years passed, the gap became deeper and steeper, no matter how she tried to connect with her cousin. 

She had guilt for inserting the possibility that his love was not elementary but, on the contrary, divisible. Because of her, his daughter had to divide a part of her father’s absolute devotion, although they were not even sisters. That must have hurt. And to be honest it felt like Uncle was spending equal, if not more, time with her than with his daughter. 

Had somebody not known that they were cousins, they would think that he had two daughters with two women that he loved equally. But this was not the case. No. The truth, though, is that there were a couple of things that she was not allowed to ask since she was a kid, and to be honest, she remained with the same questions. Who was her dad? Why was Uncle spending so many hours with them when he knew that his daughter was hating her for that? Why did Uncle come so often but Aunt was almost never joining? Why was Aunt avoiding her, yet once, when she fell off the stairs and landed on her head with a big thudding sound, Aunt had a panic attack and wouldn’t let her off her hands, although mom was around until the ambulance arrived? Did she, like her daughter, hate her for having to divide him? All these questions were never answered, and even when she asked mom if Uncle had cheated Aunt with her, her mom said a definite “no!” but left the room very upset and she basically never let any other similar discussion be opened. The only logical answer ever given to her about her question on how come she and her cousin were looking similar, was that they both looked a lot like their mothers, who were sisters themselves. She thought about asking Uncle the same exact questions, but the mere thought that he might get uncomfortable or insulted even, and keep distance from her in order to avoid such confusions, terrified and stopped her. Thus, the years passed, and she just accepted that her Uncle’s unconventional love was something she had to cherish and not question.

***

In a house, inside a drawer, in an envelope, on a folded and lined piece of paper, soon to be found by one of the girls and be delivered to the other girl too, was written and signed by the now-deceased the following confession;

“ My dear girls,

How unfair and impossible to divide love between you two, my two beloved daughters. Your mom, my wife was so dedicated to supporting her sister’s shaky mental health after losing her own baby due to birth complications, that she decided to do the unthinkable; Give you Pandora, my love, to her and leave you, my Aphrodite, without a sister. But you are sisters. And I was bound to silence or else...

My girls, I am split, divided between the loves of my life, and (both of you, believe me) no remainder is left over. It seems impossible but the quotient of my love divided between you too, my girls, is bigger than the dividend: between you too, my love is multiplied when asked to be divided.”