She Promised

Lana is dead. But nobody knows.

Now, Celestine, with her father at her side, goes to Betsy's Floral Shop downtown to buy flowers “for her teacher.” She skims the aisles for the cotton-candy-colored flowers her sister had loved. Unable to find them on the first round, she takes at least three rounds around the whole perimeter of the shop, as if the cherry blossoms would pop up on one of the wooden slabs or on top of one of the elaborate cabinets when she wasn’t watching. Or she would squint at the flowers in front of her, even if they were purple or red just in case they’d turn pink and delicate just like how her sister had loved them.

“Celeste, I think your teacher would be happy if you got any kind of flowers. How about these?” Celestine’s father points to a bonsai tree with red roses.

“No, Mrs. Taylor likes a certain kind. “ 

“Well, which one does she like, Celeste? I ain’t got all day.” Celestine pauses in her thoughts before deciding not to evoke the thought of Lana, whom her father would have normally called an hour ago to hear about her morning at summer camp. 

“I don’t know. I forgot.”

“What color is it?” Celestine gulps.

“Pink, Daddy.” Would her father know which flower she was talking about? If he found out, he would remember to call Lana. And then Lana wouldn’t answer. And then he would call her mother. Her mother would shriek at the thought and call the camp and everybody else. And when nobody else heard of Lana, they would ask Celestine. And then Celestine would be forced to tell what she saw. She would become too soft and weak to lie. And then Lana would never come to visit. “I’ll make you a bet, Celestine. If you don’t tell anyone about this, then I can come and visit whenever you want.” “Whenever I want?” “Whenever you want. As long as you don’t tell a soul. Promise.”

Haunted by this stream-of-consciousness, Celestine gasps and glows at some potted pink azaleas and asks her father to buy them. With her mere seven years of life experience, she does not dare to question the unsatisfiable promise her beloved big sister had made that morning. “I wonder what Lana is doing. She said she is climbing a mountain today, so she won’t have any internet. And we can’t even call her because Mommy said they’ll ask us to pay money if we call where there isn’t internet.” Hopefully, he doesn’t ask her, Celestine thinks. “I miss her, Daddy.” She begins to blink rapidly but slyly to stop the flow of tears. Indeed, Celestine misses Lana. She will be here today. As long as I don’t tell anyone. Anticipating Lana’s arrival, Celestine is relieved of the rucksacks of tears in her eyes. Finally, her and her father reach their parked car.

Staring out the window, Celestine is mystified. Has it really happened? Has her sister, her one friend, decided to detach herself from her? Everything is a blur in the young girl’s mind. It isn’t until ten minutes have passed that she gets to the idea to begin at the start of it all. All that she can understand, at least. 

And so she begins to replay the dreadful morning...

“Lana! I told you not to take my lava lamp!” Celestine opened her sister’s door and marched into her sister’s room, “Just get your ow—what are you doing?!” 

“Hush, be quiet. Please be quiet.” Lana’s voice was soft. It was never soft. Nowadays, it had been a tempestuous wind, blowing the family out of harmony. In the last few days, it seemed like all that she had done was yell. Celestine, wide-eyed from the sight of such a copious amount of red pills in a medication lid, rushes towards Lana. Celestine can now clearly see an almost-empty bottle of Ibuprofen stashed under the bed and Lana on her knees beside it. Celestine lowers her voice and knelt beside Lana.

“Daddy said you’re only supposed to take two of those at a time. Remember? This is way too much.” Celestine reached her hand out to take the red pills out of the lid in Lana’s fingers. Lana put her other hand in the way.

“No, don’t. Mommy said it’s fine actually. My stomach hurts a lot.”

“Fine, I’ll ask her.”

“No, please don't. Fine. It’s not true. But I’m not gonna eat all of them, Celeste. Don’t worry.”

“Then why’d you take all of them out? You’re gonna die. I don’t want you to die.”

“Fine, I’ll put them back, okay?” Lana pushed the bottle slightly forward and positioned its mouth to the full lid. Then she put each of the pills back in the bottle, screwing on the lid to Celestine’s content. “But my stomach really hurts, so I gotta take them to camp. Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll ask Daddy.”

“No, Celestine. No. Don’t say a word to Mommy or Daddy about this. Please.” Lana held her little sister’s hands. Celestine was silent.

“Why not?”

“Because,” Lana’s breathing sped up, “because…you know what, Celeste?”

“What?” 

“I love you. I love you so much.” Lana extended her arms as Celestine slid in helplessly. Bewilderment had stuck an apple in the latter's mouth, but inside she replied to her sister’s extremely rare remark. I love you too, Lana.

“Tell you what,” Lana went silent, looked around, and continued, “I’m not gonna come back home today after camp.” She slumped her backpack over her shoulder.

“Why?”

Lana took an audible breath.

“Are you going to die?” Little did Celestine know that the question she just asked was really a statement.

“No, no. I’m not gonna die. I’m just…I’m just not gonna live here.” Lana’s speech sounded stifled.

“Why not? Do you not like Mommy and Daddy? Where will you live?”

“No, I love Mommy and Daddy. I’ll live somewhere, just not here. I’ll live super close. Just in the mountains or something. I promise. You know what? Lemme tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll make you a bet, Celestine. If you don’t tell anyone about this, then I can come and visit whenever you want.” 

“Whenever I want?”

“Whenever you want. As long as you don’t tell a soul. Promise.”

“Can I tell Mommy and Daddy that you won’t live here anymore?”

“No. You can’t tell anybody anything. You can’t tell anybody I’m not living here anymore. You can’t tell Mommy or Daddy anything you saw this morning. You can’t tell them I’ll visit. Just pretend that I’ll come home.” They’ll think it was an accident, Lana thinks.

“But, Lana—”

“Do you want me to visit?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you can’t tell anybody anything that happened this morning. Otherwise I can’t visit.”

“Okay. But you promise you’ll visit?”

“Yeah. I already did.” Lana assured her sister with a drooping head, “Twice.” A single tear appears on Lana’s face. 

Soon, Celestine caught herself watching the bulge in the front pocket of her sister’s backpack drifted away. Lana breathed a guilty sigh of relief.

“Celeste, we’re home,” Celestine’s father’s voice brings her back to reality. She climbs out of the backseat, and remembers something. She hadn’t said a word about Lana’s plan. That means maybe Lana had come to visit.

She treads up the stairs, trying to be especially careful with the bowl-size pot of azaleas that she holds with both hands. After she reaches the room with pink walls, she tiptoes in. No Lana yet. 

Each tick of the clock marks the passage of an eternity. But Celestine is perfectly occupied by pulling at the blades of beige-colored carpet. She needs no “better” time-passer in a moment like this. Despite her patience, Lana’s presence is nowhere to be felt. The garage opens, and the familiar voice of Celestine’s mother brings a new liveliness to the home. Her father replies with a question that is undecipherable except for the word “time.” Then Celestine barely hears a ringback tone. Then a series of steps. Then a door shuts, and Celestine can no longer hear anything.

More hours pass, and Lana is still not present. It is almost 5:30, half an hour after the time that Lana normally comes home. Wait, Lana doesn’t live here anymore, Celestine reminds herself. But wouldn’t she at least visit? I didn’t tell anyone.

“Lana?” No answer.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Someone is coming up the stairs. Thump. Thump. Thump. Another person is coming up the stairs. “She knows something. Something we don’t.” Celestine stands to defend herself from an unknown danger.

The bedroom door is opened. 

“Celeste, what are you doing here?” The sharp, interrogative tone of her mother’s words startles the young Celestine. “Did you tell Daddy that I said we have to pay money if we try to call Lana?”

Celestine exchanges a glance with her father. I won’t save you, his look reads. He stands almost arm-to-arm with his wife, which means that he is on her side. Whenever he wanted to defend either of his daughters, he would stand in the middle of their mother and them. 

“I don’t remember, Mommy.”

“Yes, you did. Don’t lie to me. When did I tell you we have to pay money for that?”

“One time you did.”

“That’s enough, Celestine. We called the camp counselor just now. She said the group did not even go to the mountains. She said Lana did not even come to the cabin today. Only until we called her did she get scared. So are you saying she is the liar? You’re blaming her for your behavior?”

“No, Mommy.”

“Then?” Celestine feels betrayed at her father’s cold, silent attitude. She, too, remains silent in response to her mother’s question in protest. Her mother glances at the clock above Lana’s dresser.

“Do you know what time it is now?” 

“No, Mommy.” That is the most truthful statement that had come out of Celestine’s mouth the whole day.

“5:08. And where is your sister exactly?” Celestine looks down at the pot of azaleas she had put there. Her mother’s gaze follows. 

“What are those flowers doing on the ground? Give them to me.”

“I have to give them to Mrs. Taylor next year because I didn’t get her a Christmas present.”

“You want to give those flowers to Mrs. Taylor in August? When you won’t even be in her class anymore? Did you seriously believe this, Ronald?” Ronald remains silent, even at the realization of his ineffable stupidity.

“But Mommy—”

“Are those flowers really for your teacher? Tell me the truth.”

“No, Mommy.

“Then who are they for?” Celestine gulps. “Where is your sister?”

“I—I don’t know,” Celestine shoots a sorrowful glance at the potted azaleas. “She just told me she would visit. She promised.”

Ronald and his wife turn to each other, their eyes petrified with puzzlement. Visit? What the hell did that mean? His cold, silent expression and her sharp, interrogative voice dissolves. Soon, all three people in the room are sitting on Lana’s bed, unified in puzzlement. 

“What else did Lana say?,” Celestine’s mother asks. She uses the same soft voice that Lana had used earlier.

Celestine begins to cry. Only now does she begin to doubt her sister’s words. “She said she would live near us, and she said… She said she would visit, Mommy.”

“What else?” Her father chimes in, “What was she doing?”

“She had the red p–pills under her bed. She said she felt very sick.” Celestine realizes what she had just said. She said she felt very sick. “She put it in her backpack to take to camp.”

Celestine’s mother begins to sob. Her father is motionless in shock. It seems that the squareness of his shoulders had now spread to his thoughts, which had just been frozen by his daughter’s revelation. Celestine sobs too. “Why didn’t she go to the hospital if she was sick?” Neither of her parents answer.

Lana’s body is found near Flathead lake a few days later. An autopsy reveals that she had died of drug overdose, but ten years later, Celestine whispers to her roommate at night that her sister had died of sickness. That is all she knows. She does not mention the word “red” or the fact that Lana cried at all; she does not remember any of that. Instead she says to her roommate, “She promised. She promised me.” Because that is all poor Celestine’s clouded memory holds.

“Lana means light,” her parents often say when anybody asks them about their late first-born child. But to Celestine, Lana means liar.