I wanted to forget that man. I wanted to erase his presence from my mind, because “ what a vain hope! “ because then his deeds may also have been erased. Maybe, just maybe, I would wake up as a nine-year old again, and see my sister go to a normal school, where I would join her in a couple of years. And, once again, we would be each other’s best friends; once again we would keep all each other’s secrets. There would be nothing and no one between us, just as there wasn’t before that boy talked to her.
It was a little cloudy that day. Mom told us we would be better off playing in the backyard, but Lily wanted to go down to the river and watch the fish. She used to love watching the fish swim in the torrents of the current. I agreed to go, because I loved sitting under the trees and listen to the sounds of the water and the wind and the grass. Together, they made a kind of orchestra that always seemed to follow my mood, and play the music I felt like listening to.
That day, we ran down to the river and fell over, giggling. We were each other’s best friends back then. No one could be as important to me as Lily was, and the other way around. It was that day, when it no longer was that way.
Lily was doing those things to the flower again. Her making flowers bloom in the palm of her hand always made me uneasy; I’d always beg her to stop. That day was no different. As I was telling her to quit, a rustle in the bushes distracted us both. It was the first time we saw him.
He was a dark, thin boy, dressed in what appeared to be some sort of a dressing-gown or robe. It was rather unkempt, just like his black hair that looked almost greasy. His eyes were dark and bottomless. Horror filled my heart and soul at the first sight of him.
“You are not strange, I can do things like that too,” he said. His voice had an untrained air, as though it wasn’t put to much use. And, with these words, my life was turned upside down.
Lily, where are you, I need you! My precious sister, my true and only other half! You found other friends, and were never the same again; you found other people to spend your time with. And I was left all alone, and you didn’t do anything to change that. You brought your friends over in the summer and introduced them to me, but all I could think of were the lonely winter nights, when I looked over to your bed and thought longingly of our conversations that could last into the small hours of the morning. The next day, we would both fall asleep in at least one class.
I also remember the day you brought Potter over to meet us. You would be horrified to know that I hated him as much as I hated the other one. They both wrenched you from my reach, engaged you in things I could not be a part of. Why did it happen?
I sit now in my own backyard on a chair and listen to crickets, trying to calm down. So many things happened just now… My head spins as I think of my Dudders in bed upstairs; what did he do to deserve this? What did the three of us do? All Vernon and I wanted was a peaceful family life, nothing extraordinary. And then, one morning, fourteen years ago, it was all ruined. And, for the most part, it was your fault, my dear sister.
Why did you talk to that awful boy?
Why did you go to that school?
Why did you marry that Potter?
Why did you die?
You marrying Potter was the last straw for me. How could I explain to my boyfriend what it was that Potter did for a living? I really wanted to keep Vernon, I counted on him for…something. Stable. Normal. Average. Do you have any idea how important these things are?
I don’t know how I sat through your wedding, I really don’t. Every word of your vows cut deeply into my already torn heart. I remember Mom’s quiet tears of joy, Dad’s proud gaze. They were so happy for you. How I wished I could be proud as well! Yet, my mind kept clouding, as I watched you walk toward the altar to meet that arrogant knucklehead. Every smile, every jingle of laughter was another slap in the face.
That was the last time we saw each other.
Ever.
I remember writing an angry note to you after the first letter you wrote to me as Mrs. Potter. It was brought, as was to be expected, by an owl. I told you that on no account were you to do that again. I was expecting a proposal from Vernon any day, and was not looking forward to an owl swooping over our breakfast table. You wrote to me every month via the normal mail ever since then.
I sigh. You will never know so many things.
That I married Vernon in order to not be outdone by you “ in fact, I thought I was scoring a victory.
That I still keep your letters, even though I rarely answered them at the time.
That I remember your last letter by heart. I can see it in my mind’s eye. It’s well hidden upstairs.
I do hope you are well. It has been uncommonly long since your last letter, but I expect that Dudley’s keeping you occupied. I still wish we could meet up one day and our boys would meet each other. It has been ridiculously long, and, let’s face it, you are running out of excuses. Name the day “ I’m not taking a no for an answer.
Just because I happen to be different doesn’t mean I’m not your sister Lily anymore. It doesn’t mean we did not shake under one blanket in that awful thunderstorm when I was six. It doesn’t mean that the past is gone “ at least, I don’t want it to be gone.
Set a date, Tuney. Bring Dudley, I’m dying to meet him. I’ll bring Harry. We’ll spread a quilt under a tree somewhere, just as we used to. We’ll watch our boys and argue which one looks more like his father. Just a warning, Harry can’t be beaten in that particular respect.
Love,
Lily.
I received the letter a week before I received…the news…and your son. I could never describe it to you… The memory still sends cold shivers down my spine.
I woke up around five that morning, a little earlier than the usual six-thirty. I slept badly that night, as well. Vernon mentioning you the night before shattered my fragile peace of mind. It was hard to gather all the slivers back together, not to mention pointless. I got up quietly and sneaked downstairs for some mint tea. As the dark fragrant liquid warmed my hands through the thin china, my heart remained cold, frozen. I was considering…weighing my options…what to do?
I did not think I could bear it “ seeing the boy. On the other hand, I missed you so much. You cannot believe how many times I’ve thought about telling you stories from my daily life, the words my little boy had learned. And, as much as I hated admitting it to myself, I was curious to see your son. I had always looked forward to having a nephew or a niece when we were children. I had often imagined us, just as you had suggested in your letter, on a grass-covered lawn, with our children running and playing together. I could see additions to the group, as we had more children. I could see them mature, go to college, build careers. How could that happen now? We are torn apart by that “talent” of yours. How can I forget those partings at King’s Cross?
My mind was swinging like a crazed pendulum. One minute, I was ready to rush to your side, because of the longing for your presence “ it was always precious to me. The next moment, I would regain my sanity, however, and remember the madness you sunk into.
“Enough!”
I got up in one jerky motion, placing my teacup on the kitchen table. Shaking my head to clear it of painful thoughts, I made my way to the front door to pick up the milk. I was being foolish. I had the perfect home, the perfect husband, the perfect son. No one, not even you, Lily, could be permitted to destroy this world of mine. My world is complete and stable, I thought as I swung the door open… And the rest, as they say, is history. The history that brought me to this day, with my son lying sick in his bed upstairs, and my nightmares haunted by dark-haired boys and men that took you away from me. Once again, I jerk my chin up, I rise to my full height. I’m done moping.
“Enough!”