Sara's Legacy

This piece of short-fiction is yet another representation of the various stepping stones, with a particular focus on young people. In this piece, there are many stepping stone transitions happening for many characters as a result of one person's decision. This shows that while we grow, our loved ones tend to grow along with us. This piece also represents the difficult choices we must make in our lives, which are tough but necessary not only for our personal development, but also to ensure that we always keep moving forward. Once again, since this story is related to my current life experiences, I thought it would be interesting to write about.

            For miles it goes, spanning the eye’s view until it dips away, following the horizon. Lush and bright and a farmer’s dream: the never-ending ocean of grass that grows on fertile soil. Cornrows here, a field of raspberry crops there, but on the Jenestine’s property it’s all grass, all green and smile-inducing. And it is on the Jenestine’s property, up the dirt path that leads away from the main market, through full-leaved trees, along that rickety fence where the wheezing, twitching truck is standing now, where Ollie grows.

            “Go tell your sister to come down!” Mama commanded through her tears. “Go get that girl down here right now!”

            Mama kept waving the big kitchen towel in the direction of the grand staircase. The oven-top was boiling with overflowing jam in a hot pot, and Kitty the dog had found his way inside the house, covered in fleas and mud, but Mama paid no attention to anything.

            “SARA!!!!” she bellowed, and then let out a hic and a sob. “YOU GET DOWN HERE SO I CAN SEE YOU ONE LAST TIME!!!”

            Ollie was busy chewing on a licorice stick that Papa had snuck into the house a couple of days ago. When Mama finally turned her red-rimmed eyes onto him and opened her mouth to let out another loud holler, he jumped off his high stool and stuffed the candy into his mouth in a hurry.

            “Alright, alright,” he said. “I’ll get her.”

            Ollie was ten, but Sara was eighteen. It was the first day of August that had caused this ruckus in the Jenestine household—a nice sunny day with no clouds, except for the rain Mama was spraying everywhere she went. Up the stairs and to the end of the hallway, beside the big open window, was the un-matching wooden door to his sister’s room. Ollie paused in front of it to finish the licorice that was still in his mouth. Inside, he heard voices.

            It was all giggles and stifled hysterics coming from Sara’s room. A sudden BAM! as something was knocked over from her desk, and more laughter. Then there were heavy footsteps running across the floor that weren’t Sara’s, and more squealing. After a while, silence, except for the occasional loud whisper.

            Ollie stood still as a soldier, staring at the beige-coloured door that Sara had threw a fit over two years ago. “I’m a girl! My door can’t be dark poop-brown!” she had screamed, and Papa had catered to her whining.

            When he thought the whispers were gone, Ollie put his hand on the plastic doorknob and turned it open. He peeked inside and caught Sara hanging out the window, still laughing at the head full of brown hair that was climbing down the Jenestine’s decorative vines. Ollie waited patiently, putting his hand on his hip and letting the door swing wide open. Finally, Sara turned around.

            Her cheeks were flushed red from all the laughing she had been doing. She wiped at her forehead and then immediately noticed her brother standing in the entrance to her room with his eyebrows tightly knitted. She laughed again, much to his frustration, and then addressed him, “Hey Ollie. How you doing?”

            “Was that your boyfriend again.” He did not make it sound like a question in the slightest.

            Sara rolled her eyes and walked past Ollie, ready to go deal with Mama and her dramatic performance. “No, it was the tooth fairy, come to give me some extra spending money.”

            Ollie pounded after his sister down the grand staircase. “Papa said he can’t climb into your window anymore!”

            Sara waved her hand dismissively. “It’s not like I’ll see him again! Jeez Ollie, let me have some of my moments.”

            They were in the kitchen now and Ollie’s eyes were wide. “You’re not taking him with you?”

            But there was no time to reply, because suddenly Mama dropped the big wooden spoon and thundered across the tiny space. She made as if she was going to strangle Sara, but instead enveloped her in a tight Mama-hug. There were tears and snot and lots of hiccups. “My baby!” Mama cried. “My baby is leaving me to be with the crocodiles!”

            This was when Papa walked in on the whole scene, just in time to hear Sara reply, “They aren’t crocodiles, Mama. They’re more like celebrities!”

            Papa made a face and signaled for Ollie to give Mama and Sara some alone time. Obediently, Ollie ventured outside and found himself standing on the recently-watered lawn, and soon Kitty bounded up to him as well. “Let’s get some licorice,” Ollie decided.

           

            Down the dusty Jenestine path and to the left was the main market. This is where Ollie found David sitting at his usual booth with the cherry tomatoes. His cheek was swollen—probably the consequence for sneaking out to see Sara again—and his eyes were rimmed red just like Mama’s.

            Ollie put on his best mean-face and ventured over to him while Kitty leapt away to be with the other dogs. “You look like a girl,” he remarked.

            David looked up once and then wiped his nose on his sleeve again. “Crying ain’t only for girls, little fool,” he replied. It sounded weird, like he was getting over a cold. “Hey, little man, be there for Sara when she calls home and cries about how much she misses me, alright? My old man cut off the land-line so I wouldn’t talk to her no more, but I’m going to write letters.” He beat his fist into his palm, like he meant it.

            Ollie picked up one of the cherry tomatoes and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. He contemplated his next move, all the while being stared down by a nearly-weeping David. “Hm…okay.” Ollie popped the tomato into his mouth. It gushed, fresh and sweet. “But she’s not sad. She said she’s not taking you with her.”

            David looked absolutely stabbed. “Of course she isn’t taking me with her,” he replied rather harshly. “I’m going to school here. Like the rest of us.” He muttered the last part with a coat of bitterness.

            Ollie shrugged and stole another handful of tomatoes. Then, he waved goodbye to David, who looked to be in a worst state than when Ollie had first arrived, and sauntered over to the candy stand. Sitting behind the wide wooden booth, newspaper in hand, was Mr. Rivers. He looked up from under his thick glasses, and it took him a while to recognize the kid in front of him.

            “If it isn’t Jenestine’s little brother!” He laughed loud and long, and then threw the newspaper onto the stool beside him and leaned forward. “How’s she doin’? She’s been skipping my remedial classes this summer. Thinks she’s too good for us, does she?”

            Ollie shrugged again. “I don’t know. She’s not very smart.”

            Mr. Rivers laughed again, a different kind of laugh. “Not very smart? Hohoho, she’s smart enough to get into that big-city school! She’s smart enough to get away from here, where all them girls go to the local college and become nurses!” He picked up a sour peach candy and handed it to Ollie, still grinning. “I feel like she won’t even miss the place.” He winked.

            Ollie frowned at the sour peach but ate it anyway. That last part sounded like bogus. What could be better than living in Southsire? He had heard stories from Papa all his life, about the pollution and million trucks and robberies in the big city. There were hardly any places like Southsire left, where good citizens lived off the land and knew each other since birth. In fact, Sara had heard these stories too, all this summer and since early spring when she had revealed her plans to go to the capital city for University. Mama had had a crying fit and the neighbours had gossiped non-stop about the “unappreciative Jenestine daughter”, but she had stuck to her decision anyway, like an idiot.

            “I don’t think she’s very smart,” Ollie insisted.

            Mr. Rivers had another good laugh at this, and then selected the ten best licorice sticks and took Ollie’s dollar. Then, he bid him a good afternoon. Licorice in hand, Ollie began the trek back up to his house.

            It was still a scene at the Jenestine property, except now all of the curious neighbours had showed up to watch and question Sara. The driver in the rickety truck from the big city was getting impatient, but was too intimidated by Papa to speak up. Instead, he had the radio turned up loud to one of the local music stations, probably hoping to annoy everyone into sending him away.

            “The crocodiles!” Mama was still yelling, now relocated to the front lawn with her arm still around her daughter. Papa was busy dragging different coloured suitcases towards the truck, and Kitty, returned home, was barking and running like mad amidst the commotion. Sara’s eyes met Ollie’s, and she smiled, but he did not return it. Instead, he stuck another licorice candy into his mouth and walked nonchalantly into the house, and up the grand staircase.

            Sara’s door was propped wide open, in all of its light-beige glory, forever lowering the property value. Ollie stepped inside and was a bit shocked at how white the room was. Sara’s desk, closet, and basically entire bedroom had been cleared while he had gone to town. The only remains where the fluffy pink carpet on the floor, the matching curtains, and some paintings that were framed on the walls. “Stupid…” he muttered, and went to sit on the edge of the large bare bed, facing out the window that David had climbed.

            From Sara’s window one could see the entire long grass plantation that the Jenestine’s owned. The blades, growing together like one, stretched on and on and never seemed to end. The sun was slowly working its way down, but was half-blocked by the big oak tree that stood near the house. A few meters up swayed a washed-out ribbon that Sara had tied to a branch that used to poke into her room when she was little, before Ollie had been born. Ollie stared at it, and noticed that at the base of the knot it still had a pink tone to it. That guaranteed that it had been Sara’s doing.

            Suddenly, there was a light tap on the door. Ollie turned swiftly, as if a criminal, to see Sara with her eyes wide open standing in the doorway. Ollie frowned and turned back to look out the window. “Why aren’t you gone yet?” he asked.

            Sara’s footsteps were unheard, but she was sitting beside Ollie a few seconds later, also staring out of the white-paned window. “I’m about to go,” she replied. She then added, in a bright tone, “Maybe you’ll apply to school in the city too and we can both have families there!” She let out a long, bell-like laugh, but was rudely interrupted by a shove to the shoulder.

            “Shut up!!!” Ollie cried, all of sudden infuriated. “You’re so stupid! You think I’m going to leave Southsire and live in the Devil’s city?! I know a good thing when I see it!” He pounded the wall with his foot, letting it swing forcefully back and forth. “I won’t leave MY friends, and I won’t leave MY neighbourhood, or Kitty, or Mama or Papa, or the fence that I painted, or the fertilizer stand that has our name on it! I won’t leave the haunted saw mill or the town school where I go every day! I won’t get in a nasty truck and drive away from MY home, because I’m not a traitor like you!” He kicked the wall one last time, and it was the strongest kick, for it left a final dent.

            He sat there, seething, but Sara made no reply. It was quiet for a long moment, and then there was an unexpected sound.

            It startled Ollie, so much that he looked up after vowing to never see his sister again. He stared for a long while at her face, and for the first time in his whole life that he knew her, he discovered that Sara cried the same way that Mama did.

            Flushed cheeks and squinty eyes, with ears bright red and her nose already flowing, Sara let out a wail. “I’m not a traitooooor!” She kicked the wall, too, and her kick left a dent right away. “I love the haunted saw mill toooooo! And I was the one who painted the fence, not youuuuuuu!” She sneezed without using her elbow, and then the tears streamed down. “But I need to get away from here! This isn’t the rest of my life! Uwaaaah!”

            Ollie was speechless. His mouth was wide, almost as wide as his eyes. His sister was shaking like the old vacuum cleaner they used to have, and was running like a leaky faucet.  “Hey,” he whispered. “Sara, hey. I’m sorry.”

            Sara sniffed, hard. “I know you are.” And then she didn’t say anything more, which left Ollie feeling incomplete.

            “I really am sorry.” He made a move to touch her arm but she suddenly turned and strangled him by the neck with her arms. Perhaps it was a hug, but Ollie couldn’t breathe.

            “I love you! You better remember that you bully!” She wiped her nose on his sleeve and then straightened herself out. As if on cue, the rickety city truck honked four long times from the front yard. Sara rose, gave Ollie a smile, and then hurried out of the room as if nothing had taken place. Ollie continued to sit, nothing but baffled, until fifteen minutes later Papa walked into the room.

            “Hey buddy,” he called, striding over. “You come to feel sorry for yourself too?” He took a seat next to his son on the bed and let out a long sigh. “Well, she’s gone. Can’t believe we let her go. You know, let me tell you the story of the ribbon up in the—what in the heck is this on the wall?!” Papa suddenly leapt up, all jumpy and pointing both index fingers at the twin dents. “Who in the heck did this?!”

            Ollie leapt up now, too. His sister was far enough away to avoid the wrath of Papa, but he certainly wasn’t. “It was Sara!” he hollered, and shot out of the room like an arrow, down to the kitchen where Mama was still crying into the jam.

            From upstairs, Papa’s cries came. “That little—!!! Bring her back! Bring her back right now! Someone get her! That vandalizing, no-good house-destroyer ain’t going nowhere!!!” There was an incredible THUD! and Mama dropped her spoon onto the floor again.

            “Dear lord, what on Earth was that?!”

            Ollie, full of energy now, ran around her in circles. “There’re three now Mama! There’re three! You go and make one too! And then even when we’re gone, there ain’t nothing they can do to forget the Jenestine’s!” And Kitty barked along, as well, confused yet excited by the eventful evening that had seen more emotions than the house had been a host to in years. It was as if suddenly, a new bright life had been given to the century-old long grass plantation, similar to the character of a certain Sara Jenestine.