Washing Expectations

Summer wanted to keep her safe. Away from the kind of harm and injury that her little sister would experience all too soon. She made it her mission to preserve that sort of life that would keep Annie innocent. Something to maintain her childhood as long as possible. She tried, at first, to secure the same sorts of rituals their mother had performed. Sunday breakfast with fresh biscuits, front creases in Annie’s school trousers, laundry nights on Tuesdays. After a few months, the routine became too much. The weight of pretend mama life, along with her own wifely obligations to Tommy started to unravel even her best interests.

“Annie, we have to do something about this,” Summer said one night. The two were at Oakley laundromat, Annie sitting on top of one of the beat up washing machines, kicking her legs back and forth as if she were on a swing.

“About what, sis,” Annie asked. Missing her front tooth, her childhood freckles not yet gone, almost red hair in one long braid down her back, Annie was set to enter the third grade in the fall.

“I talked to Aunt Rita,” Summer tried to say casually.

“NO.” Annie hopped off of the washer. Summer turned toward her, knowing that the only way to shelter Annie would be to send her away. After talking it over with Tommy for weeks, Summer knew this was the only way.

Grabbing Annie by the shoulders, Summer knew the loss of their mother was shaping Annie in ways she couldn’t see. “Pebbles,” Summer started, knowing their mothers’ nickname for Annie would trigger something  in the small frail girl, “You know this is the only way. I can’t save us both. I have to save you.”

Annie collapsed into Summer, gripping her waist and sobbing. “I don’t want to,” they both said at the same time.