When our mother passed away my siblings made this big speech on how they’d like to be closer. Having let them fade from my life it seemed like I should at least attempt to reconnect. When it came time to split up the little bit of money left as an inheritance, which I was instructed to split with only my brother, I split three ways and also used my portion to pay for a trip. The goal was to bring my sister, niece and nephew out here to have a good time.
The plane landed, arriving in a ZipCar I scooped them up from JFK and off we went. The day entailed walking the Brooklyn Bridge, visiting the place where I spread our mother’s ashes and then Battery Park. Everyone being sleepy we ended up back at my apartment for naps while I made dinner.
Larrymore and the Russian came by for drinks on the roof before we headed out to show my sister a fun Friday night. Everything was going great, right up until my sister lost her cigarettes and Larrymore and I went back to find them. Ten minutes later she and I are shouting on the street. Her focus had switched to our mother and her hatred of her. Hailing a cab I encouraged my friends to escape…and thank god they did.
I believe people tell you what they really think and feel when they’re drunk. Here’s my sister’s opinion of me: “You’re a drunk, drug addict, piece of shit whore. You live in a shitty little apartment that you pay too much for. You fucked your boss at fifteen. Our mom always controlled you, and she’s a piece of fucking shit and you’re just like her.” Random comment, I didn’t lose my virginity until seventeen, so I have no idea who she thinks I was sleeping with at work. But, ok.
This went on and on, each blow getting lower and more mean. Other than me telling her to shut the fuck up and lower her voice, I held back on the cruel comments biting at my teeth. As she went on and on I finally jumped out of the moving cab. The comments finally pushing me over the edge being that I didn’t allow her to help when our mother died. And I’m sure as hell not about to apologize for everything I did when my useless siblings could only show up to take things. Also, that she didn’t want to come to New York and I made her. We all have limits and there is no reason that I should have to listen to any of this crazy shit.
Getting back to my place, roughly ten blocks of walking, my sister is on the street with some random black guy. I could have just let him take her, but she’s still my responsibility. Heading upstairs I booked three immediate flights for them to leave. Which she decided to refuse. So, I did the only thing she can understand: You can go, or we can call the cops. Cops were called and she still had to go.
We are nearing a decade of me living in New York. This was a fresh reminder of exactly why I left my family two-thousand miles behind. This is how they live their lives and nothing has, nor ever will, change. With this final experience there are no more tries and we will go our separate ways. I’m going back to being an only child.