I am the Skeleton in the Closet

A Wealthy Family

I realize I haven't said much about my family up until now and to be honest that was because I didn't really spend a lot of time with them. We were a wealthy family. Not the kind of wealthy to afford insane luxuries, but wealthy enough to come out unscathed with new granite kitchen counter tops in the 2007 recession. The funniest and most outlandish stories passed down involved a jar of pickles being eaten shortly before the waking of my late grandfather or the waxing of a shed. Truthfully, for most of my childhood I was busy being at someone else's house or avoiding fights in my house. Frequently I was almost entirely ignored and a lot of it was because of the delicate care my sister, Alex, needed. She was a roller coaster of emotion with a full tank of gas that had been derailed ages ago and, being two years older than me, was in the middle of her tween phase far before I was. I really can't remember a time when Alex and my parents weren't fighting. One of the earliest memories I have is of them sitting at the kitchen table trying to teach her fractions and help through her homework. She would sit there trying to figure it out and end up a ball of tears that just wanted the assignment to be finished while dad yelled at her for crying. I've always been the impartial brains of the family.

Unlike her, it took quite a bit to get me to cry. We both went to the same elementary and I recall one day being taken out quite early in the day. Mom was distraught and didn't even have the energy to tell us what had happened until we were almost half way home.

"Why'd you call us out, I was supposed to help my friend with something during recess?" I nagged for the hundredth time.

"My moms took us out because we were good, right?" Alex chimed in happily bouncing up and down on her hands in the back seat. She always had a habit of calling mom "my mom" instead of just mom. She was adopted too so it never really made much sense to me.

Not my mom at least. I always rationalized when she did. "Nooooo. Why would she just call us out for being good. Something must have happened right?" I always assumed the worst during these times, I was usually right.

About half way down the old straight dirt road that led home there was a four-way stop sign that had little to no purpose most days. Slowly we crept up and once the car halted at that sign mom sighed and looked back.

"I don't know how to tell you this but your grandma has passed away." She always used that wording any time death was mentioned. To her death was more permanent than passing away. After all, passing away makes it sound like passing a stranger on the street that you'll never meet again; even if you had known them once before.

Alex immediately picked up on that. "What do you mean, do you mean she's dead?" Her voice breaking at the word with tears already falling down her freckled cheeks.

"See I told you she wasn't just...." I started then looked down after a sharp glare from mom. "Mm-Kay." I muttered and turned my head back to the window.

Our family was estranged from the rest who lived in southern states so I had never really known my grandma. Her death didn't really have much effect on the life I was already living so to me she was just another face with another name that I needed to know; like a fact of trivia that had just been proven false.

Alex, on the other hand, sobbed so much she could have filled a lake. Offended at my reaction she cried out. "How can you just sit there?! We will never see our her again! She's dead! Do you even know what that means!? Why?! Why is she not doing anything? Do you even understand what just happened? How is this not affecting you!!?" Her voice was full of tears, confusion and accusation.

"Everyone processes things differently." Mom ended the conversation gazing back at my empty face as I watched the trees scroll past.

"What do you mean? Elise our grandma just died and you're just going to....." Alex went on as I tuned her out to the pop music the radio sang and the squirrels that were playing along the branches. She was always much more emotional than I.