If my sister came home, it was because a relative was dead. She had this philosophy; that no matter the depth of family issues, the death of one deserves a temporary truce. It was a strange theory, but then so was Anna, my sister; a strange fellow. I remember once when we were younger, she convinced me to burn plantains for a visitor, her reason was simple; life is too short to pretend, if you didn’t like someone, you showed it to them. This was 11 years ago.
I am 21 now, Anna is 27, still beautiful, still strange, still unmarried and yesterday, she called mother and told her she was coming home.
We went into panic, I and mother because nobody was dead and Anna was coming. We were not sure of what to do because we were not sure of anything; we didn’t know why she was coming, for how long she would stay, what she would like to eat, where she would like to sleep, if she was sleeping. We didn’t know her, period. Nobody really understood her when she was little but now it was even worse. She had stayed away for 9 years, coming home only on occasion of death, which was not that often when you looked at it from the angle of ‘the only time you see your sister’
At the end of the day, we did nothing. We just waited.
Anna arrived home at exactly 11:58 pm. Mother was asleep; I was only awake because mother had saddled me with the responsibility of opening the door for her and as I turned the knob, my eyes connected with the clock prostrating tiredly from the wall. The poor thing has been hanging there like forever; it would probably fall off any moment now.
“Anna” I said in acknowledgement of her just before I saw her luggage. There were all manner of things scattered about. My eyes darted through buckets, plastic table and chairs gas and other kitchen equipments. It was obvious from her appearance, some of the answers to the questions I and mother had asked ourselves; she was here to stay.
“Linda” she replied. Her answer was even colder than mine. I only notice this out of habit now, it was nothing new, it was the way we were, have ever been; like sworn strangers.
I had to adjust to this. When we were still little, I used to cry over this. Any time I got excited at seeing Anna or attempted to be ecstatic over something she does, she would damp it with this cold look and mannerism. I used to be hurt, until I realized that it wasn’t about me, Anna simply didn’t approve of any display of emotions. So I learnt, I became like her to her; cold.
“Come inside” I said when she hesitated. And she did. I asked her to leave the luggage outside till the morning when we can properly arrange, she agreed. I showed her to my room which used to be our room when we were kids, until mother saw our differences and placed Anna in the visitor’s room. But the visitor’s room was now a barn, so Anna and I had to share a room. She didn’t say anything as I led her in and she only nodded when I told her I would sleep in the sitting room so she can have her privacy.
The house became cold. Even the chatter between I and mother that was characteristic of our mornings didn’t happen in the morning. It was like Anna could suck out all the life just by being there. We ate breakfast quietly and settled down to activities. Anna stayed indoors all day and I kept wondering if mother would not ask her why she had returned home. When it was time for dinner, mother asked me to check up on her. I found her lying down on her back, her eyes fixed on the ceiling like there was something there only her could see. She waved me away as soon as I stepped in. I stood for a second watching her, she did the hand gesture again probably thinking I didn’t get the message the first time. I remained adamant. I wanted her to shout at me, maybe throw something at me, anything, at least that would be normal, sisters fight all the time. This cold attitude made me feel small, like I didn’t exist. When I wouldn’t budge, Anna turned and laid on her side, her attention now on the wall. It was a sign of dismissal and I didn’t want to cry because it was Anna and it wasn’t about me, but still the tears rained down as I went back to mother.
Mother on seeing the tears charged up towards me. “What is the problem? Tell me! Is Anna fine?” I knew mother was justified in her assumption of who the victim might be, but it still irritated me that she was concerned about Anna when I was the one in tears.
“Of course, she is not fine!” I busted out “she is sick! Demonized or something. What kind of person can’t express emotions?? Can’t even spare her sister a glance! She doesn’t belong here! We don’t want her he…”
“I am dying” The voice interrupted and the words held us bound. It was Anna “I have cancer,” she continued, “the doctors say I only have a few days” I watched her as she spoke. She said it like she said everything else, no emotions attached, no sign of pain or regret, just cold and lifeless.
I felt numb. I felt so much pain I couldn’t express. I guess I always thought things would change, but they didn’t, not even her philosophy. Anna was home, not because someone had died but because someone was dying; herself.
I didn’t think, I just threw myself at her, held her tight and started to cry again. When I felt her hands on my back, I expected her to pluck me from her body, but she didn’t, instead, she wrapped her hands around me, and for the first time since I knew her, Annabel; my sister started to cry too.

Beautifully written.

Very well written