I remember being twelve, the summer you come to stay with us. Dad had just left us and we couldn't afford to live on our own. And you insisted you needed to come to New Orleans anyway. I remember the envy I felt, the sick sense of jealousy. Your hair was long and blonde, mine was short and auburn. Your eyes were a sparkly blue, mine were brown. You had the perfect figure, I was a little too fat. You used to tell me stories while you sat at your vanity table. Smiling into the mirror for no particular reason. I used to love to hear your stories. I'd learn about the men in California and New York and their fancy cars and houses. I took in everything you told me, my soul absorbed it. I wanted to know everything about you. I had a desire to be just like you. But you were a mystery. An enigma I couldn't solve. You and Mom both were so secretive about things sometimes, it drove me crazy. Neither one of you told me what you did as far as work. When I'd ask you'd both just say "it's a night shift job". That tells a person a lot. I remember one day, Sadie and I were walking home from the park and we took some back roads. We walked slowly by Madame Monette's. Sadie and I always did that. Madame Monette ran the local whore house. It was all supposed to be a secret operation but the whole town knew what the house was for. We'd see all types of men coming in and out of the house and women for that matter too. The ones that only worked during the day. Mom would've killed me if she knew Sadie and I walked that way. "Hey isn't that your cousin's car?" Sadie pointed to the blue cadillac. I felt like my heart had stopped beating. I had to catch my breath. "No. It's not hers. It just looks like it." In my heart I knew it was hers. I saw the purple fuzzy dice hanging from her mirror. "Are you sure?" she asked, not meaning any harm. "Hell yeah. My cousin is not a hooker." I said viciously. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." she apologized. I could see her eyes watering. "It's okay. I'm sorry I sounded so mean." we kept walking. All the way home we were silent. I couldn't help but to think about you. What was your car doing there? You couldn't be a whore. You were too nice. "I'll see you tomorrow." Sadie called from her steps. "Alright, bye." I walked on. I was so confused. I was feeling a thousand things at that moment. But I couldn't pin point exactly what emotions I was feeling mainly. I got home and went straight to my room. I was lying in the bed when you came home. "Hey Kiddo whatcha doin?" "Nothing." I couldn't even look at you. "Are you sick or something?" you reached to feel my forehead but I jerked away. I didn't want you to touch me. I felt betrayed somehow. "I'm fine. Just leave me alone." I snapped. "What is your problem??" "Where were you at today?" I asked. "The store." "Where were you at last night?" "At work of course. You know that." "Why won't you tell me where you work." "Because you wouldn't understand." you started crying. "We walked by Madame Monette's house today." I watched your face. "Why were you there?" Silence. "Well? Tell me!" I demanded. "Someday you'll be an adult and you'll understand..." you started "Don't give me that bullshit you're nothing but a whore and right now I hate you. I hate you for lying to me!" I screamed at you. You were crying so hard, I watched you run out and didn't say a word. All night long I didn't know what to think. I loved you, without a doubt, but I was ashamed. I was hurt and confused and you never offered me a real explanation. I couldn't sleep that night. You were gone and I wanted so desperately to go to you and say I was sorry. That I shouldn't have been such a bitch. I just hated not understanding something. The next morning when the doorbell rang. I ran downstairs to answer it. It was two officers. "Is your mother at home?" the first police officer asked. "Yeah, hold on." I ran to the stairs. "Mom!!" I yelled. She walked down the stairs and I just stood there, waiting. "Mrs. Tolbert I'm sorry to have to tell you this but Terry is gone. We found her body this morning." I didn't hear the rest. I was standing there one minute not able to breathe and then I started screaming. I screamed until I felt like my throat was bleeding. Then I passed out. When I woke up my mom was standing over me. "Where is she at?!??" "She's gone, honey." "No. Momma, no." I cried so hard. I wanted to curl up and die. I felt like it was my fault. Why didn't I just bite my tongue? I wish I would've said that I was sorry. But there was nothing I could do. I laid in bed for days. I felt so bad about your murder. I remember the relief I felt whenever Mom told me they had found your killers. But my hurting still remained. I couldn't forgive myself. One day I was in your room, going through your things, when I found it. Your Diary. I picked it up and opened it to the last page.
Dear Diary,
I don't know what to do. Me and Chel got into a fight tonight. She hates me. I feel so bad. I really love her and she doesn't understand why I'm doing it. I never wanted to do it. It makes me feel so dirty and ugly but there are just things in life we have to do. Maybe someday she'll forgive me. I love her and nothing will change that. No matter what she says to me or about me I forgive her. I understand how she feels.
-Terry
I sat there on your bed, crying. I was so happy and so sad. I was glad you still loved me and I was so sorry I said those things about you. I didn't mean them. I love you. I think about you every day. I'm writing this story and I know that you're probably over my shoulder reading it, like you used to read all my stories.
