The Wall Of Sister

Note: Jay (Jaime) typically uses both pronouns. He is referred to as ‘he’ and ‘his’, but is called Cara’s sister.

Jay

I looked both ways down the empty yard before dropping my backpack, grabbing a few tools and slinking to the side of the house in complete darkness of the shadows it was casting in the late afternoon. My parents and my sister had left a few minutes ago. I hadn’t been welcome here for years, not since I told my parents I was transgender. They didn’t give me the ‘we still love you and it matters but we don’t really care’ speech that I had been expecting and hoping for, instead, they kicked me out of the house. Which is exactly what me and my sister, Cara, had been dreading when we finally decided that I should tell them. She had known since I had known and had been the only one who had known, which made sense because she was not just my sister but also my best friend. And now I needed to do this - I needed to break into my own goddamned house - just so I could show her I was still alive. I crept along the wall then creeped along the weed-choked lawn so I could dodge the cameras I had watched my parents install as me and my sister weaped on opposite sides of what seemed like the world. Then, slowly, I prayed as I dug my dirty fingernails under the edge of the window and pulled back gently. Luckily for me, my parents had never thought to lock my bedroom (or what was now considered the ‘guest bedroom’) window after I left. I used the pliers I had in my bag to undo the screen and I let myself into the empty house. Taking a pair of scissors I had hid under the garbage can, I cut the wire on the camera in the corner, and I went back outside to grab my backpack once I was sure the cost was clear. Reaching in the outside pocket for an envelope full of magazine clippings, I sighed, and realised that I really couldn’t wait for this to be over.

Cara

Mom had taken me shopping. That was her reward for putting up with over three years without my sister and best friend. But really, it didn’t make up for it, it never will, and she knows that I know thats she knows it. However, it is always kinda fun when you can use guilt to get a new pair of four hundred dollar shoes that otherwise would’ve seemed like way to expensive. I grinned to myself as mom pulled back into the driveway after our shopping spree, then I jumped out of the car before dad had even opened the garage. I stopped as I saw something dart behind our bush in the corner of my eye, but after further inspection, I guessed it was just a trick my eyes were playing on me. One of the tricks where I think I see my sister and I think that for a second, just a second, everything will be normal again. It’s the same feeling I’ve been told that you get when you win the lottery. I walked up the wide porch and pulled out my key, multiple bags hanging from my arm, furthermore killing my shoulder. I unlocked the door, and I thought I heard my mom yell something about if I was going down to the guest room to keep in clean, but I always did. Because that was the last thing I have left of Jaime. I threw my shoes at the wall near the door and brought the bads down the stairs before opening the door to the patio and going outside. I stepped on to the dewy grass and walked towards the fence. Being as sneaky as possible, I took some of the tee shirts and jeans that I had chosen in front of the neighbours yard, where I knew that someone, hopefully Jay, would find them. The last several batches had been taken, but then I saw some homeless people wearing all the clothes I had bought, so I assumed it had been them. I sighed and walked back into tha house and rounded the corner into Jaime’s old room, which was now the guest room. The second I walked in I knew something was off. The wire to the camera had been frayed and I’m sure it is no longer working. Also, the screen on the window was slightly crooked. These are things that no ordinary person would notice, but in the time after I lost Jaime, I became very aware of my surroundings. At first, I thought about calling up to mom, but then something taped to the wall caught my attention: a cartoon rainbow. Slowly, I approached the wall and read the words that had been formed out of carefully cut out of a magazine letters: Cara I love you. I let tears come to my eyes. Jay. He’s okay! And he had been here. There was nothing else I could do but cry. I feel to the floor and weeped. I missed him so much. So, once I dried my tears, I ran up to my room and flipped open an old magazine before I started cutting. 

Jay

I returned every day after I realised that Cara had got my note and responded. However, she seemed to get my silent message that although I didn’t want to see her face-to-face yet, I was ready to rejoin the family and see her. In my most recent conversation with her, we’ve been talking about ways that we can convince mom and dad to let me come home. It’s nothing against my foster parents, no, they’re great people and I love them to death, but I love Cara more, and I miss her. She misses me too. So, we started working on ways we can force the folks to let me back in. We thought of the most childish things, like having Cara buy clothes she’ll never wear but that’ll break the bank, and having her come live with me for days at a time so mom and dad she that we aren’t playing around. But I’m not sure we’re ever going to play out with these. I thought we were just goofing around, making up for the time we’dd lost. That is, until the lady from the orphanage showed up on the apartement door step telling me to pack my stuff because I was going home. I shoved my little possessions into a gym bag and said goodbye to Rex and Nini, my stepsibling, promising them I would keep in touch before getting in the car and crying happy tears, When I got home, Cara was sitting on the porch fiddling with her hands, something she does when she’s nervous. She looked different: her hair was in a sleek angled crop and she wall taller. But other than that, she was still my Cara. I jumped out of the car before it stopped moving and I ran over to her. Mom and Dad opened the door and smiled, seeing that I was still their daughter. Mom extended her arms, as did Dad, but I ignored them and made way for Cara, who was crying with me. I cupped her face in my hands and she did the same to mine before our foreheads touched. Just like we used to do. I cried, and Cara looked at me a second before taking me into her arms. 

“It’s okay, Jay. It’s okay.” We never showed our wall, which I kept full of magazine clippings and images, to anyone, and I regained possession of my room. Not everything is perfect, and sometimes I still have to remind my parents that ‘m different. But as long as I have Cara, everything will always be fine.