Character

“I'm hoooooooooooooooooome!” Jenny swings the door open and drops her backpack on the floor with a thump.

Great, I think. Sound the trumpets.

And so she does. “Amyamyamyamyamy! Guess what happened in chem today!”

“You... set something on fire?” I suggest, only half kidding.

She runs up to my room. “Yeah, something. Man was there chemistry today. Whatever, you won’t guess it so I'll just tell you. I was sitting there doing my ionic compounds worksheet and Mrs. Jenkins passed by and told me my work looked good because she always says that because my work is always good. Anyway, right as she said that, plaid shirt boy walked in because his teacher wanted the computer cart from Mrs. Jenkins and AMY HE SMILED AT ME.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t just smiling because he was happy?” I ask, continuing my trigonometry homework.

“No! People don’t smile because they’re getting the computer cart. People smile because they see other people, like me! Amy, he smiled when he saw me! And then—I'm not done yet! This is the best part! Aren’t you paying attention?—He winked at me! Amy he winked!”

“So,” I say, “This relationship is really going somewhere. Have you figured out his name?”

Jenny frowns. “No,” she admits, “No, but I will. Just you wait.”

“Yes, Jenny. I'm waiting.” I go back to my work and she skips across the hall, tripping on a stair as she goes down.

Five minutes later I hear a call from downstairs. “Amy I'm hungryyyyyyyyyyy.”

“It’s four o’clock, haven’t you already eaten?”

“Yeah but that was a long time ago. FOUR HOURS? Are you trying to kill me? Will you make me something pleeeeeeeeeeeeeese?” She whines.

“You’re fourteen, you can make your own food.”

“Pretty please? I'll love you forever darling sister. I'm too busy to make myself food.”

“You’re too lazy to make yourself food. I have to work in an hour, I'm sure you can f—”

“What? I can’t hear you, guess you’re gonna have to come down here to talk to me. And while you’re at it, want to make me a grilled cheese sandwich? I like mine...”

I shut the door and stop listening. It’s an acquired talent, this ability to ignore loud noises for extended periods of time.

Jenny stomps up the stairs as loudly as humanly possible, sometimes jumping on a stair for added volume. “Amy [stomp] are [stomp] you [stomp] even [stomp] listeningggg?” She runs up and down for a few minutes and I wonder how she has the time and energy to do this but not to grill two pieces of bread and a slice of cheese. I pretend to ignore her and eventually she goes down to the piano. A loud siren sound emerges, not once, not twice, but three times, just in case shouting across the house wasn’t a sufficient warm up. “Do re mi fa so la ti do, Do di re ri mi fa fi sol si la li ti do...” Major scale, half note scale, next is minor scale… I’ve never had much interest in music but Jenny loves it and never hesitates to tell me all about it. She begins singing a French aria. “Mon cœur s’ouvre à ta voix...” My heart opens to your voice… Is this a hint? Her attempt to call me down to get me to listen to her sing just because the song’s in French? My heart does not open to her voice, I wonder how I can portray this more clearly. “Aaaah, réponnnds à maaaa tendresse!” Respond to my tenderness. Nice try, I think. Now be quiet.

Half an hour later, Jenny stops singing. “Amyyyyyy my throat hurts,” she calls up. Yeah, I'll bet. “Will you make me tea? Pleeeease? Or something cold? Don’t you want to help your dear little sister?” No, not particularly. Amy runs up to my room. “Jenny could you hear me? I asked if you’d make me tea, I have a sore throat. Please? For meeee?”

“I'm busy and I have to leave soon,” I say.

Amy sighs. “I have to do everything for this family.” What’ll she be like when I go off to college? She walks downstairs, whimpering as if this will help her case.

Twenty minutes later I hear a shriek. “Amy come here! Amy! Amy are you coming?” This is not the same Jenny who was whining twenty minutes ago, she sounds genuinely terrified.

“I'm changing for work, be there in a second,” I call down.

“Amy quicklyyyy!”

Good God what happened? My mind races with all the things that could have gone wrong. Did she burn herself? Spill boiling water? Did she put metal in the microwave? Was there some kind of toaster fire? Do those even exist? I finish buttoning my shirt as I run downstairs. Grilled cheese cooks on the hot stove while Jenny is balled up in a corner in her Disney princess apron. “It’s over there,” she says, pointing at the other side of the room.”

“What’s over there? Is there a rat? Did you trip on something? Broken glass?”

“No, on the ceiling.”

I look up to where she’s pointing to see a spider half the size of my fingernail scrambling across the ceiling. Are you kidding me?

“Is it a black widow?”

“No.”

“What is it then?”

“Jenny, you were screaming about that?”

“Yes! Think of what it could have done!”

“There I was thinking you were dying and that I was going to have to call an ambulance and it was a spider? Not even a daddy long legs but a tiny little spider?”

“I could have died! Imagine if it had bitten me!”

“You would have spider bites for... I don’t know, a week maybe. I'm going to be partially deaf for a lot longer than that.”

“Amy it’s still there. Look it’s moving!” Jenny is actually crying. Really? REALLY? “Get it off. Kill it, Amy!”

I take a paper towel and stand on the chair to reach the spider. Gently pulling it off, I get down off the chair and let it outside.

“You didn’t even kill it?”

“No, but your screaming may have.”

“IT’S STILL ALIVE?”

“Listen, Jenny, I have to go to work,” I say. Anything to change the subject.

“Nooooo! Amy don’t leave in my time of crisis!”

“Your crisis is over. I need to work so I can pay for gas to drive you places. This whole deal works in your benefit.”

“Amy I'm dyinggggg.”

“Get up and recuperate. You’re not dying  and your grilled cheese is blackening.”

Jenny stays in the corner so I flip the sandwich and head out the door. Do I have to do everything in this family?