Hey Wise Women!

You know those BIG house projects that we love to avoid? Well, my husband Michael and I tackled one of those this past weekend. We cleaned out the tack room in our barn to turn it into my new office (yeah!). Well, it's a barn. So in addition to lots of boxes that we haven't opened since we moved back to New Hampshire from Cincinnati six years ago, we found lots of dust, lots of spiders and a (very cute) fox hiding in the corner!

Well, in one of those boxes was MY FOLDER. Do you have a folder? Mine held term papers and love notes, pictures and drawings and this story. It's my favorite piece I ever wrote and I didn't think I had a copy any more. Thing is, it's not really a story. It's highly unfictionalized, non-fiction. In other words... Alli is me. I named her Alli because I was reading Pillars of the Earth at the time and Aliena was my heroine! Guy is my brother - because that's what my dad and step-mom said they would have named him if not Ian. Creative, huh? 

But, I have to say that reading this story 20 years later made me cry. For old hurts and for growing up. I hope I'm not being overindulgent to share it - but it begs a question for all of us. If there are old hurts and patterns of thinking about ourselves from our childhood that we need to let go of. 'Cause this one is still an ouchie one for me, and it's just not true anymore.

My brother is a lawyer now, and I think I can safely say that he is as in awe of me as I am of him. Anyway, it's off our usual subject matter, but I felt compelled to share it - to share how little worth I had as a 16-year old girl. Which I think is so normal - and that there is beauty in that insecurity, because it gives us so far to grow.

Kiva

Redwoods
by Kiva Schuler

I hate him. I look in the small mirror at my red eyes and blotchy face, and I hate him. I hate this bathroom, this motorhome, this entire vacation. I have had enough of California to last me a lifetime. I turn and make sure the door of the small bathroom is locked. I don't want them to see me. They'd think I lost it if they knew a ten-year-old made me cry. I wish I could be more alone, but there is no escape. Three weeks is too long to be couped up with anybody, let alone your father, step-mother and your half-brother; especially your half-brother.

Since his birth I have been constantly reminded how much better Guy is than me. He knew his left from his right by the time he was four. I messed it up on my road test just last month.

"Guy makes his bed every morning," my step-mother, Nancy, once told me. "You never did that when you were his age. I told him he already does it better than you."

Guy also got all of the looks in the family. Sometimes I look at him, at his curly blonde hair and impossibly blue eyes with eyelashes that nearly reach his eyebrows, and my heart melts. My dad and Nancy are constantly showing off his picture. I don't even think they display one of me in their entire house. 

This morning, we started driving up Highway 1 towards San Francisco. Highway 1 has mountains going straight up on the right and a sheer cliff on the left which drops straight into the ocean. Needless to say, I wasn't too appreciative of the view. I walked to the back of the motorhome, to where the double bed was. The curtains around it were closed. I opened them, and there was Guy, surrouned by 50 G.I. Joe Figures.

"Move over," I said, "I want to lie down and read. "

He shifted slightly and I crawled into the corner.

"Get up!" Guy yelled suddenly. "You're laying on Captain Rogers."

"Sorry."

I started to read my trashy novel by Danielle Steele. Guy continued to play, making the figures fight with each other.

"Pow. Take that! Pow Pow!"

"Guy, could you please shut up. I'm trying to read."

"Mom, Alli said shut up to me!" he screamed to the front of the motorhome.

Oh God. I closed my eyes and waited for the response.

"You guys be nice to each other back there." My father - always so understanding.

I tried to ignore Guy by burying myself in my book. It didn't work. I looked out of the window at the drop to the ocean. I imagined how great it would be to push Guy off it.

"Alli."

I ignored him.

"Alli." He tapped me on the shoulder.

I still didn't answer him. I wanted to punish him. No one else ever did.

"Alli, how come you think the only reason you come here is because you are a free baby-sitter for me?"

"What?"

"How come you think..."

"I heard you." I thought for a moment. I had written that in a letter to Josh, my boyfriend back at home, in Boston, where I wished I was.

"Guy, did you read my letter?"

He looked up at me with his big, blue eyes. "No. "

"You must have. Otherwise, how would you know that. "

"I don't know... I just read the beginning."

"That's my stuff," I yelled. "Stay out of it!"

The tears welled up in my eyes, and I stared out the window. How humiliating - to have my little brother read a letter I wrote to my boyfriend. There wasn't even anything I could do about it. If I told on him, I'd just get into trouble for what the letter said. I grabbed my book and went and sat in the front. Guy followed me. With his G.I. Joes.

"Guy, leave me alone."

"I want to sit here too."

I clenched my teeth and continued to read. We sat opposite each other at the table in the motor home. California rolled by us. We didn't even notice. I felt a small foot on my knee.

"Get your foot off me," I said. Now he was ignoring me. "Do you get some pleasure out of annoying the hell out of me?" I pushed his foot off my leg and he kicked me in the shin. "Ow!" I yelped.

"What's going on back there?" came a grown-up voice from the front.

"Alli pushed me," complained guy.

"Well, he kicked me."

"Guy, leave your sister alone," Nancy said unemotionally.

"How come she never gets in trouble. How come only me?"

"Yeah, right," I replied.

"Why don't you go back home," he said. "I don't like it where you're here."

"And you think I like it? You think leaving all your friends and your house and your Mom to live in a motor home for a month is fun? You think I like you?"

That's when I locked myself in here. At least he can't get in. I sit on the toilet and lean my head in my hands. How can he be so cruel sometimes? There are moments when I am so proud of him. At home I brag about him constantly. But, when I'm here - he just tortures me. Just the other night we were visiting friends of my Dad and Nancy's. And I overheard them talking after I went to bed.

Nancy said "I don't care how rambunctious little boys are, there is nothing worse than a teenage girl." Thing is - I'm on my best behavior here. I don't have any friends to be bad with. They don't know the half of it.

A couple of nights ago, Guy snuck into my bunk after Dad and Nancy were asleep. We talked for hours, about our friends, our family, about kissing.

"Sometimes," he said that night, "I wish you were my real sister."

"Me too."

Guy's voice came through the door. "Alli, I have to go to the bathroom."

"Alright, I'll be out in a minute." I rinse my face and open the door. I don't even look at him.

I go and look out of the front window. Dad is driving and Nancy is sleeping. Huge redwoods and rolling hills stretch endlessly before us. Guy comes and stands next to me. We look out the window together.

"It's pretty isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is."