Family arguments are common. Differences of opinion can breathe life into relationships between family members or, if overwhelming, cause havoc.

 

Sometimes confrontations are heated, but then they cool down and family members embrace one another. But one thing remains . . .

 

 

Sibling Rivalry Never Dies

 

     Life in Merrill Heights, a small suburban community, just outside San Diego, was usually calm and collected. Nothing much of consequence occurred. In this upper middle class town, people kept to the themselves, working hard to maintain an upscale lifestyle.

     It was a sunny, Tuesday afternoon in early May. Shadows fell on a small house on Urbana Way, shared by two brothers, Blake, age twenty-two, a college senior, and Tony, age twenty-one, a junior. Quiet permeated the home, and then . . .

     “How many times do I have to repeat myself to get you to listen?” Tony asked.

     “Huh?”

     I said, “How many times do I have to repeat myself to get you to listen?”

     “You talking to me?” Blake questioned.

     “Who else would I be talking to? You and I are the only ones in the room.”

     “That’s not true,” Blake replied.

     “What’s not true?”

     “That you and I are the only ones in the room.”

     “Are you out of your mind, Blake? Who else is here?”

     “Maggie and Debbie.”

     “You’re kidding? Aren’t you?”

     “No, I’m not,” Blake said.

     “But they were killed in a car accident four months ago. How could they be here?” Tony questioned.

     “Because they want to be.”

     “Why would they want to be?”

     “To punish you for your mistake, Tony.”

     “My mistake? What mistake?”

     “You were supposed to have the car serviced in January. But you didn’t,” Blake stated.

     “But the car was fine,” Tony declared.

     “Then why did they die?” Blake asked, in an eerie tone.

     “How the hell should I know? I wasn’t there.”       

     “You should have been.”

     “I what?” Tony shouted.

     “Should have been there,” Blake said.

     “But then I’d be dead, too.”

     “That’s right.”

     “What’s right?”

     “That you should be dead, as well,” Blake expressed in a way that made the room shake.

     “You’re not serious? Are you?” Tony asked.

     “I’m very serious. They were my sisters.”

     “They were my sisters, too. Maybe you’re the one at fault.”

     “I would have made sure the car was in good condition,” Blake stated.

     “But they were drunk when the car went over the side of the mountain. It wasn’t the car that killed them.”

     “Why were they drunk, Tony?”

     “I don’t have a clue.”

     “It was your booze they were drinking.”

     “My booze? You bought it, Blake.”

     “And you opened it.”

     “What are you saying?”

     “They shouldn’t have been drinking and driving. You killed our seventeen-year-old twin sisters.”

     “No, we killed our seventeen-year-old sisters,” Tony replied.

     “So you’re admitting guilt, Tony.”

     Silence fell upon the room, as the two brothers stood staring at one another. And then the quiet was rudely interrupted.

     “Hey, guys, just shut up,” Maggie shouted.

     “How are we hearing you?” Tony inquired.

     “If you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you,” Maggie said, emphatically.

     “I told you they were here, little bro. You should have listened to me,” Blake quipped.

     “I’ve got to be dreaming. This can’t be happening!” Tony screeched.

     “Oh, yes it can,” Maggie said, with a lilt in her voice.

     “Well, what do you want?” Tony asked, somewhat irritated.

     “What do we want?” Debbie echoed.

     “You’re souls,” both girls chanted in unison and laughed out of control.

     “What? Do you work for the devil?” Blake asked.

     “Devil? Hell, no,” Debbie replied.

     “Then why do you want our souls?” Tony queried.

     “To bring the family back together again,” Maggie said with joy in her voice.

     “But that would mean we’d all be dead,” Blake whimpered.

     “Aren’t we already dead? Debbie asked.

     “No way,” Tony yelled. “I’m not ready to die.”

     “The choice isn’t yours, my sweet brother. Mix drinking and driving together and that’s what you get,” Debbie stated.

     Click, click, ummmmmmmmmmm.

     “What’s that weird noise?” Maggie questioned.

     Ummmmmmmmmmm.

     The hospital trauma center light blinded her. And then a robust voice made her quiver. “This one’s coming back, Dr. Sherman.”

     “So is this one,” Sherman said.

     “I think the other two are responding, as well,” Dr. Moran screamed excitedly.

     Blake stared into Dr. Moran’s eyes. “Where am I?” he moaned.

     “Mesa General Hospital,”

     “How did I get here?”

     “ You and your brother and two sisters were having dinner on the patio at Pasta Superba. A drunken driver smashed through the fence and plowed over you. We believed all of you were going die.”

     “Didn’t they?” Tony inquired.

     “They?” Dr. Sherman asked.

     “Our sisters. They were drunk. They crashed the car four months ago and died. My brother and I weren’t there.”

     “You all have head trauma. What you believe is not what happened. And what did happen, occurred earlier this evening.”

     Days passed. The shock wore off and the four siblings were slowly returning to the reality of life—two sisters back at home with their parents and two brothers living on Urbana Way, a mile from the University of Southern San Diego, where they attended college.

     At dinner at the family home a month later, it became evident that some things never change.

     “You know your being a jerk, Tony,” Blake moaned.

     “You’re no prize, either,” Tony responded.  

     The two sisters shook their heads and sung out, “You guys are horrible, as always. We’re glad you don’t live here anymore. Hooray!”

     And so it became obvious---sibling rivalry never dies.

 

 

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