The row had spiraled out of control, the disagreement escalating from spat into the big chill of alienation between the siblings, becoming increasingly evident there wasn’t much hope of ending it and reaching some sort of accord before the pending holidays.
If he’d sent a note or called, leaving a message on the recorder, Sarah would have extended an olive branch, but there was nothing. The obvious conclusion was the words she’d flung at him in a fit of anger had inflicted a wound he’d be hard pressed to forget.
“Forgiving and forgetting aren’t in my nature,” he’d reminded her on previous occasions.
A light was shining from a window in the house across the street and, in the late hour, Sarah could only remember the times when they’d been close, conspiring against their parents, arguing in their defense, minor infractions of the rules didn’t constitute a federal case.
She smiled at the missed curfews and the skipped classes and how fast they’d been to back each other up in their alibis, causing their mother to wring her hands and glance upwards, imploring patience from above.
“You aid and abet each other,” she’d lament which was what they supposed brothers and sisters did along the way, never imaging at some point in their lives the lines of communication would be broken.
Blinded by the difference of opinion now separating them, Sarah wondered if they‘d ever be restored and, if she should be the one to make the first move. Thinking her gesture might be refused, she resisted the urge to pick up the phone telling herself there would always be time to make the situation right.
© Janet Yung