date: may 20th, 2006 location: maksimovich residence status: closed to @czarnichego
There are many things that Heloise adores: feather-stitching, pretty dresses with a ruffled edge, and her patchwork doll, Bellina. She doesn’t want to share her with anyone else. No, that’s not true. Heloise doesn’t want to share her with Brielle.
She’s as sweet as summer’s day, the reddest rose in the garden while Brielle’s petals have already started to wilt, and Heloise thinks her sister is more thorn than rose. Heloise stares at her for a moment, tear-stricken and aggrieved, and decides that she’ll happily concede defeat once Brielle expresses her regret. For nothing in particular she supposes, but there’s a growing list, one she had tucked away and adorned with the prettiest of ribbons. “Say you’re sorry!” Heloise doesn’t elaborate.
Should Brielle apologize for her calloused hands and muddied clothes? Should she apologize for her brazen words and careless gestures? Heloise isn’t entirely sure, but she thinks that an apology for any of these things will do, especially since mama hates them just as much as she does.
Heloise stumbles on her feet as she joins Brielle on the floor, tugging on one of Bellina’s ears on her way down. “Give it!” She cries as Brielle slams into her chest, knocking the air out of her. “Mama says we’re poor! If you ruin my dress, I won’t be allowed to get another one!” As if Brielle cares. Her voice clouds itself with thunderous words while Heloise’s are made of bottled sunshine. Brielle resembles the weeds that creep and crawl through the splitting concrete, eager to destroy the rose that blooms under the heat of the sun. It is an ugly thought, she’s well aware, but Brielle’s words had stung her. Heloise decides to sting her in return. “You’re being mean! This is why mama loves me more!”
Her mother’s words echo in her ears: хорошие девушки не поднимают шума.
Too late.
