The sisters

It was on a Sunday afternoon in the beginning of April. Mum and I were planning for my birthday celebration coming on in a few days.

The year before, we had celebrated my 8^th birthday with a big garden party. Mum had arranged everything in style. We had separate tables set for children that the adults decorated with butterflies made of silk paper, daffodils and light blue grape-hyacinths. Mum baked a three-tier birthday cake.

Dad took pictures and worked for hours to make them look pretty in beautifully cut picture frames. Mum and I browsed among these lovely pictures while sleet poured down outdoors clattering the windows. Everyone looked so happy back then! I noticed a particular picture standing out from the others: a photo of my best friends: the sisters Miranda and Simone, dressed in princess like dresses. Mirandas had worn a lined ivory dress that with light blue butterflies scattered on it and Simone had worn a pale purple dress with two white flowers on the waistline. They stood next to each other waving happily to us. 

Mum had said: “Would you mind if we only invite children from the neighborhood this year and then visit the art museum, just you and me? I know how much you like to look at all those paintings of flowers and still life!” 

This seemed like a good deal to me, but still, there was one thing missing so I said to her: “Mummy, why don’t we invite the sisters? I know they live on the other side of the city, but still there won’t be too many children at the party and they have a car.” 

Mum’s face turned pale, and I realized that my question caused a problem. Outside, the rain was streaming down as a river, and it looked as if the end of the world was here in the form of a massive flooding like the one in the Bible. The cheerful mood I was in before got replaced by an unsettling feeling.

After a period of deep silence mum said: “Darling, I’m afraid this isn’t possible … not this year.”

“But why? They are my best friends after all!” 

“The sisters have been involved in a small accident love… that’s why we can’t invite them, they won’t be able to come…” 

“An accident?” 

“Yes, darling. We don’t have any details yet, let’s leave this for now” she said.

It was obvious that mum knew more, but she wouldn’t tell me. What could have happened to the sisters? Were they laying in hospital beds covered in bandages? Were they so badly hurt that I wasn’t supposed to see them? 

I could clearly recall the three of us playing together in the backyard of the old cottage that our grandparents used to rent together over the summer. Miranda and I were four and Simone was three. We just loved the rectangular house painted in pistachio green color, placed right on the main road of the picturesque but remote mountain village!

Later, that afternoon, I went to my neighbors next door to invite their two daughters Sylvia and Deana to my birthday party. The girl’s mother opened the door and invited me to come in and sit down for a chat. I ended up seated by the kitchen table. The girls joined us too.

The lady was cooking, and the heavy smell of fried chicken made me sick. As I sat there, the girls were staring at me while their mother went across the kitchen doing things. Then she stopped and said: 

“We heard about the tragedy, what a dreadful thing!” 

I remained silent awhile not knowing what to say.

“The sisters dear. The death of Miranda!” the woman said in a single breath.

I got immersed in a threatening silence and shock… My mind was looking desperately after clues that could help me to make this impossible thing understandable. Thinking back of the long and happy summers we spent together, I couldn’t avoid noticing some things that had worried me. 

One of those things was the sister’s granny, Esther. She wasn’t an ordinary grandmother. Tall and slim, with shortly cut but vigorous black hair paired with two big black eyes she made a strong appearance! I felt as if she was a larger-than-life character, so I got totally frightened by her. Both my granny and Esther were in their mid 60s, retired teachers and strong women, but my own granny was warmer and more practical while Esther was magnetic.

Esther seemed to love Miranda much more than Simone.

Miranda was the good egg, and I could agree with that. She was very kind and sweet, somehow angellike, letting us take the best toys and the nicest candies too while Simone and I were mainstream children, less compassionate, more selfish.

Esther seemed to have resentments towards Simone. She even bullied the poor girl from time to time and I never understood why.

Despite all this we continued to be best friends and I loved them very much. I couldn’t have loved one of them more than the other. 

A year ago, I got invited to celebrate Miranda’s 8^th birthday at their home in a rich neighborhood of the town. There were many kids there with their parents who joined us too. As we entered the dining room, granny and I got amazed by the lavish decorations that had transformed the apartment into a fairytale space dressed in pink and white only. A high cake dish with irresistible white and pink meringues that looked like jewelry was decorating the table as a centerpiece. Balloons were floating in the air around us.

As soon as we arrived, we were introduced to the sisters’ nanny, Emma, a girl in her thirties, short, thin and pale. She reminded me of as a sad snow-white character. I’ve never known they had a nanny in the first place, none of my friends had ever had a nanny but I knew that the parents were well off, both being physicians, working at the most well-known hospitals in town. So, they could afford it. 

We were served adorable sweets along with an elegant birthday cake in form of a white swan decorated with a golden crown on her head. As a drink we had pink lemonade. Nothing was homemade which was usual at other birthday parties including my own. All kids just stared at all these magic things in fascination combined with fear.  None of us dared to touch anything. 

As a contrast to all this bounty I felt an unsettling feeling sweeping in the room and a strange sadness was falling over everything building an invisible but cold layer over all those fancy things. It wasn’t joyful at all and now, when I think back to it, it all makes sense. It wasn’t her birthday party we were invited to but an early hint to her funeral, which none of us understood back then. The white swan with the golden crown, Miranda’s face, bright and lovely like an angel’s, pure with a hint of a smile but still melancholic.  

The girls’ mum was looking fragile and a bit anxious with black shadows under her eyes as if she had been crying. The grandparents were there too but the father was missing. 

While we were eating the birthday cake, I couldn’t avoid hearing a strange sound like a quiet sob coming from the grow-ups table. The silence deepened even more and suddenly everybody turned their heads towards Esther. She was crying. We were all horrified to see this powerful and frightening woman in such a state! And she didn’t seem to stop. On the contrary, the sob got louder and louder. My granny raised up and tried to put her arms around her shoulders saying: “Esther darling, what happened? Are you unwell?”

“He is cheating on me! He is cheating on me!” Esther shouted pointing towards the grandpa. 

There was horror… no one dared to say anything. Granny tried to recollect herself and said calmly: “Nonsense darling, who could he possibly be cheating with? He is here with you all the time!” 

Ester stopped crying and shouted in rage: “With this damn stupid nanny!” casting a killer glance at the poor nanny Emma who looked transparent and miserable with tears rolling down her cheeks. All kids were looking horrified.

Granny said to the guests: “Excuse us, Esther is not feeling well so we need to get some rest!” 

 Parents and children got ready to go. My grandma went to the next room with Esther. I had already put my coat on and while I was trying to find my shoes in the darkness of the hallway, I heard somebody whispering to another guest next to me: “Her father’s drunk, that’s why he isn’t here!”

We left, and I tried hard not to ask questions.

Now I found myself sitting in the claustrophobic kitchen of my neighbor unable to understand that Miranda was gone forever. None of it made any sense to me. I didn’t even have a clue how our neighbor could know all these things. From what I knew she had no contact with the family other than through us. Could granny or mum have told them all this? Either way she knew a lot and she was determined to tell me the whole story. 

“The dreadful day started as any other day. Nothing out of ordinarily had happened until in the early afternoon when the sisters came back from school. Their mum was preparing herself for the evening shift and their dad was undisposed …” the neighbor said whisking a pancake batter for us kids to eat. Sylvia, the older sister took over: “Some people claimed that the dad was at home because of a hangover after his heavy drinking.” 

“Sylvia, let me talk to the end!” the mother said and continued “so they had lunch when the grandpa arrived to take the sisters to the ballet school.” 

At this point the woman stopped to open the front door and let the monstrous black cat in. 

Sylvia continued: “After lunch, the mother left for work. Dad and grandfather started a row. Maybe the mother threatened the father saying she would leave him if he didn’t stop drinking? Maybe he hit her, who knows? Nobody talks of such things, especially when there are posh people involved, you know doctors…all that shit!” 

“Sylvia don’t speculate now! Tell only what you know.” The mother said but Sylvia continued unbothered. 

“However, the quarrel got nasty, but the grandpa had to leave with the sisters for the ballet school, you know posh ballet school, ridiculous, damn people! Grandpa being angry after the row went ahead of the girls in his thoughts, telling the girls to hurry up as they were running late.  At some point, they passed over a railway track and nobody noticed when a train came at high speed…”

I felt terrified by the story but also by Sylvia talking about “That damn ballet school”. I had gone to that school myself and enjoyed it a lot. Thank goodness she didn’t know!

The neighbor woman served us with two pancakes each carefully folded on a glass dessert plate with powdered sugar on top and roasted apples in caramel sauce on the side. They looked delicious but the smell of fried chicken and the story been told made me unable to eat. The silence got deep as everyone was eating when the cat started crying for food. The mother grabbed a piece of meat from the fridge throwing it into the cat’s bowl picking up the thread of the story.

“Simone hurried up and succeeded to pass right before the train, but Miranda got left behind … It must have felt like ages waiting for the train to pass to see what happened to her. The train passed and they saw her lying motionless on the ground. She didn’t look hurt at all lying there with the face to the ground, no blood, no other signs showing she was hurt so they tried to wake her up. Then they realized that she wasn’t breathing.”

Deana was listening quietly. Her face was tensed by fear and her eyes were drowned in tears. She said: “I’ve never seen a dead body before, have you?” 

“No, I haven’t seen either” I said. 

I tried to imagine Miranda’s lovely face lying there, serene with her eyes shut and a hint of a smile. I could see the wind blowing lightly in her curly hair just like a breeze. Any miracle could have saved her but then it crossed my mind that… this was the miracle, the angel had come home!

I recalled one time when we all traveled from the mountains back to the city by train. It was mid-September, and the school term was about to start. Simone, Miranda and I were sitting next to each other. Our grannies sat on the opposite side. We were all looking at the dramatic mountain views passing by when Esther decided we should play quizzes. She asked questions which we were supposed to answer as quickly as possible.

Since my own granny was there, I understood that I had no other option but to win. I couldn’t let her down in front of Esther because I knew too well how much this meant to her. 

At the beginning we were all at the same level but, after a short while Simone got left behind and refused to answer any more questions while Miranda and I continued the fight. As we went ahead, I got a slight lead. Nothing was settled yet and I don’t know what could have happened if we had continued the fight, but Ester got angry and stopped the competition, calling me the winner. I felt so miserable!

Simone showed a stiff-over-lip attitude which I found very cool. She was not a loser, on the contrary, she seemed more like a winner to me. Then I looked into Miranda’s eyes, and I found her so sad yet so beautiful in such an angelic way that I started to cry. Nothing was as it seemed to be. We hugged each other when Esther surprised us with her sudden outbreak.

“Simone, you are as stupid as you damn mother. You look exactly like her with the same gestures and the same smile! I never understood what my son saw in her, but she made sure to ruin his life. She made sure to get pregnant, so they had to marry.”

“Please Esther the kids aren’t supposed to hear all this!" Granny said and continued " Girls go out and take a breath of fresh air! Esther and I need to talk!”

The neighbor woman continued telling the story as if the worst thing hadn’t already happened:

“It might have been the draft caused by the train passing at such high speed that caused her fall, nobody knows for sure. This is what the doctors said …”

“And then comes the suicide!”  Sylvia said, excited by the whole thing.

By now I already knew what she was going to say. The mother took the cat and threw it outside then said: “After they’d taken Miranda to the hospital, grandpa went home to tell Ester. Everyone in the family felt a great fear for Esther’s response to such devastating news but surprisingly she seemed to be calm as if she already waited for it to happen. She wanted to see Miranda one last time, so they took her to the hospital. After she’d seen her, they went home and Ester went to her room for rest. As soon as the door closed behind her, she took a lethal dose of poison that waited for her on the bedside table. One death became two.”

I knew the end because I recalled a conversation between my own grandparents during the last summer. I was playing with our two kittens under the dinner table while listening to their conversation. Granny said to grandpa:

 “I feel worried for Esther. She told me that she had come across some poison. She is really depressed... Her son’s getting drunk more often nowadays behaving badly with the girls, shouting at them…”

“Darling, I know all that, but we have to let them solve the problems on their own. If we get involved, we will only make things worse!”

“But I already talked to him about her plans… “granny said.

“And what did he say about it?”

“He said that Esther is just such a drama queen!” 

“Isn’t he right?” grandpa said.

“This is why I fear for her, that nobody takes it seriously!”

I feel a rush of anger when I think back to all this, but my thoughts are interrupted by Sylvia saying: “The girl’s mother fainted at some point and is now lying on the psychiatric department of the hospital she used to work at. Tragic, isn’t it?”

“What about Simone?” I asked. 

My neighbor took our plates and put them in the sink, then she waved with one hand and said: “I don’t have any idea what’s happened to her. Nothing I suppose!”

It was then I realized that nobody ever cared for Simone. She didn’t count. 

Simone and I got even closer to each other after this. Soon after the tragedy the parents reunited which resulted into a little sister, Miranda’s replacement and everybody cared only for her… Simone became just an unpleasant reminder of past trauma.

As soon as we turned 20, we both moved aboard. Simone is now a successful cardiologist and lives overseas but refuses to have any contact with her family ever since.