With a name like Jewel, anyone would be forgiven for thinking she was a gem. That she had a heart of gold. It's an easy mistake to make, I guess, when you don't know her like I do. Anyone could easily fall into that trap. I should know. I did...
I thought Jewel was amazing. I thought she may well have been the best thing since sliced bread. See, Jewel is the kind of person who oozes charisma. She radiates charm. She's the kind of person who could light up a room and have everyone in it eating out of the palm of her hand with a mere snap of her fingers.
One such night, I watched on in awe as she spoke to a growing crowd of people. More and more of them gathered around her, all of them laughing heartily or with beaming grins that illuminated their whole face. And over in the corner stood I, her quiet, shy kid sister, wishing I knew how to talk with people the way she did. To connect as effortlessly as she had.
Little did younger me realise that while I looked on with wistful wishing, she was also stealing glances back at me, secretly wishing the crowd that surrounded her would all just go away and leave her alone, just like they were with me. They did eventually. Because eventually, she figured out how to make them all go away. Every single person that tried to get close. Not straight away though. For a while, they all kept coming back. Kept trying. But eventually, they realised, and eventually, they gave up. Eventually, I did too. But I persisted longer than the others. I was the biggest sucker of them all.
With a sigh, I concede to myself that she is my sister after all. Of course I didn't want to give up that easily. Of course I wanted to believe something else, something better. Of course my view of her was rosey coloured. Of course it's only now, that it's all been going on so long that I'm starting to really see. And of course it feels as painful as it does to me, because that's who I am.
I am the bleeding heart who feels everything almost too deeply. I care, too much. Love too much. I peer at my sister across the way. She puts on a good face, pretending like a professional, as if her life depends on it. In a way, I suppose, it kind of does. Or at least, this facade she has going does. I squint, as if this will give me clearer vision. It does a bit, but not into what I really want to see.
I can't help wondering if Jewel's heart is encased in a thick layer of ice. Or had it long ago turned to stone? Either seems like a possibility, for how little she seems to care or feel for others. If she feels at all. But what does it matter? Knowing these facts won't change the way Jewel is. It won't change the mask she puts on in front of everyone, nor the fact that she never seems to take it off. None of that will change. I just wish it would. I wish that somehow, knowing could help me fix it. Stupidly, I just wish.
If wishes were horses... Our father has said this to me so many times that the words are so ingrained in my brain and I can practically hear him saying it, even though he's nowhere near me.
"Beggars would ride," I finish in a whisper to myself. "I know, Dad." I sigh. Even though Jewel and I might balance each other out with our levels of feeling and caring, this is our problem. Someone always ends up hurt.
"Could enough blood melt ice?" I wonder aloud to myself. "Could it crack stone?"
Across the way, Jewel steals a glance on my direction. Just for a moment, our eyes lock, and I know. We both wish.
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this story follows on from How Do You Solve a Problem? which you can read here
