Page 19 of Falling for my First Crush

We lapse into silence again for a long time. The night is coming alive around us. I can hear the birds, owls, and frogs all making the noises they make as the world goes dark. I used to hate the dark when I was little, but now I find it almost soothing. My mind still sees things lurking in the shadows, though.

“I mean, do you still have a thing for Joe?” Sabina asks.

I nearly fall off my chair as I sit up too fast, and look over at her. “What are you talking about? I never actually had a real thing for Joe, and I certainly don’t now.”

Sabina stares at me. I can feel her eyes in the dark, piercing my thoughts. I never liked Joe that way, come on. I mean, never as anything more than a childhood crush, which would now be embarrassing to even acknowledge; so what is she talking about? The silence that stretches between us is uncomfortable, to say the least. Finally she just shakes her head.

“Okay, if you say so,” she says. She closes her eyes again, and I’m pretty sure that is the end of that conversation. Not that there was much conversation to begin with.

“So how do you like the program at the hospital?” I ask, because I can’t think of anything else to say. It never used to be like this for us. Sabina and I used to be so close, that I knew all of her secrets, hopes and fears. Now it’s like sitting with a stranger.

“It’s okay,” Sabina says. “I wish that some of my friends had access to it. There isn’t much support for them, and they are really struggling.”

“That’s awful,” I say.

“I’m struggling, too,” Sabina says. “Some days? I just don’t know what the point of my being here is.”

I feel a rush of fear. “Oh, Bina,” I say.

She must hear my fear in the tone of my voice, because she cuts me off. “I don’t have any suicidal ideation. At least not currently. Don’t worry. The people at the program monitor us pretty closely.”

“That doesn’t mean those thoughts can’t sneak up on you,” I say softly. As a health care provider, I’ve had patients who have taken their own lives after they leave the hospital. People always say the same thing, that they didn’t realize how badly the person was struggling, that there were no signs, etc. Sometimes there aren’t any signs.

“I know,” Sabina says after a long moment. “You just don’t need to worry about me.”

There is a weariness in my sister’s voice that tells me more than her words ever could. I wish that there was a way for me to reach her, or for her to realize how much we all care about her. Intellectually she knows that, but the other part of her brain that is traumatized by her experiences in war tells her a different story or blocks her from us. I can feel that wall, that resistance, there now.

“Hey, are you okay if I head inside?” I ask. “All the weirdness tonight was kind of exhausting.”

“Yeah, of course,” Sabina says, her voice soft again. “I’m going to stay out here for a while.

I stand. I want to hug her, but she seems to have shrunk into the chair. There are so many things that I want to say to her. I want to tell her that I love her, and that I am here for her no matter what. But I know the words won’t land right, so I step back through the sliding glass door. I know that what I need to do is find ways to show Sabina my love.

Inside, the house is quiet. I suppose my parents have gone upstairs to bed. They’re notorious for their eight o’clock bedtime. And Gianna and Maia probably left after dinner was cleaned up. I head down to the family room, figuring I can read or watch something on TV. I could go to my room, but part of me still wants to be down here, in case Sabina needs anything. When I open the door, I’m surprised to find both my other sisters still here. Their conversation stops suddenly when I walk in.

“Don’t stop talking about me on my account,” I say, knowing that I sound like a whiny toddler.

Maia rolls her eyes. “We weren’t talking about you. We were talking about Joe.”

“And how it’s my fault the way everything went down, because I’m the one who invited him to dinner?”

“Calm down, Jack,” Maia says, rolling her eyes at me again. “Seriously.”

My blood starts to boil, and words rise up in my throat. Gianna can clearly see where this is going, so she says, “Jackie, no one is blaming you. What happened is squarely on Joe. I was actually really looking forward to seeing him tonight. It’s his fault that he’s an immature idiot. And Maia? Stop rolling your eyes. They’ll get stuck in the back of your head, and I’m sure there’s nothing to see back there.”

We all burst out laughing, and the tension breaks. I sit down on one of the recliners. “Have you guys noticed how much Sabina is struggling?” I ask.

Maia and Gianna glance at each other. Clearly this has been a topic of conversation for them before as well. I wish that they would include me in more stuff. It feels pretty crappy to always be left out just because I am the youngest. I know that they still think of me as a little kid. I chew on my lip.

“I was just talking to her,” I continue. “It seems like the program at the hospital is helping, but she just seems so… vulnerable.”

“She is,” Gianna agrees, her tone serious. “I can tell that the hospital is helping, especially when I drive her, but there is still so much that she hasn’t dealt with.”

“What can we do to help her?” I ask.

“Just what we are doing,” Gianna says. “Drive her to appointments. Listen when she wants to talk. Be a presence, no matter what.”

“There has to be something more that we can do,” I insist. I know that I’m being annoying, but I mean what I am saying. There has to be more that we can do to make Sabina’s life better. “I know we can’t fix any of her issues for her, but I feel like there is something else that we could be doing.”

---