A cool breeze splashed across my face. I stirred and groggily opened my eyes. It was still dark in my room. I heard my mother stir in bed next door, so it must have been around 6:00 am. She was an early riser even on her days off. I searched dumbly for the source of the cold. The door was open. My sleepy brain was slow to process the moment. “That’s odd” I thought. I was sure I had closed it the night before. But I got up to close the door without another thought, and stumbled back to bed.

I had barely gotten the chance to close my eyes when a sobbing wail sent a shiver through me. It chilled me more than any breeze could have. I jumped out of bed with a start and went to comfort the cry. My mother stood at the kitchen table, holding a piece of paper in her hand, eyes squeezed tight, as if she could erase what she just saw if they were closed enough. As soon as I reached her and saw what was on the note, everything fell away. Everything except those words: I’m sorry. They were in my sister’s, Gen’s handwriting.

No.

Thoughts spiraled in and out and around my head, making me dizzy and sick. My heart started beating rapid fire. I could feel myself beginning to go into one of my panic attacks. I wanted Gen to be there so badly. She was the only one who knew how to calm me down. It all went dark.

…

I’m four and coming home from my first day of school. The teacher won’t let me leave without an adult, and my mom forgot to pick me up. She forgot all about me. I sit in the principal’s office, crying, staring at the rip in Gen’s old tights that I chose to wear for my first day. Gen walks in. She’s only eleven, but she carries herself like an adult, head held high, walking like she knows what to do. She has a few words with the principal. After a moment, she holds out her hand for me and smiles.

“Time to go home, Lee-lee” she says. I wipe my eyes with my little fists and take her hand, and we walk out into the sunshine.

Now I’m eight and getting ready to go trick-or-treating. It’s the first time that I’m able to go, because before I was too little to go by myself, and Gen had to stay home with Mom and hand out candy. Gen would always hide candy around the house for me to find, but it wasn’t the same as real trick-or-treating. I hop around the house in my witch’s costume the Gen sewed for me out of Mom’s old black dress. Gen runs to grab the camera, stops me by the door and takes a picture of me, smiling even though her eyes are so tired.

One year ago, I’m eleven and I came home crying, because the girls at my middle school made fun of me for my old clothes. I always wore the clothes that Gen had when she was my age, and she had gotten all of her clothes from Goodwill, so by the time I wore them, rips and stains and patches practically covered them. Before I walk in the door to our apartment, I wipe my eyes. I don’t want Gen to see I’ve been crying, because I know she’ll worry. And Gen never cries, and I want to be just like her. But as soon as she sees me, she knows anyway. She holds me in her arms and lets me cry. She tells me it’s okay that my clothes aren’t as nice as the other girls, because my heart is twice as nice. But when I keep crying anyway, she lets me bury my head in her shoulder and holds me until I feel okay again.

Last week, I walk in on Gen staring out the window in the kitchen. She’s washing the dishes, her long, black hair tied in a knot, sleeves rolled to her elbows. She’s paused mid-dish. I’m about to walk in and help her with the dishes, but I see her face and I stop. I have seen her tired, I have seen her frustrated, I have seen her sad. But I have never seen her look so empty.

…

I opened my eyes and found myself on the floor, the cool, fake wood against my cheek. I pushed myself up. My mom was still crying. She was holding her hands over her eyes, with a melodramatic frown on her face. I didn’t know how long I had been out. But she hadn’t even noticed that I fainted.

I had to be calm. I had to be in control. I had to be present. I had to be Gen now. For my mom. I held my mom while she cried and shushed away all her shaking sobs, wishing someone could also do that for me. I helped her walk back to bed and tucked her in, kissing her wet cheek. I looked at her, curled up under the sheets looking so pitiful. But I couldn’t feel any pity. Not then.

My mom was one of those annoying telemarketers. She hated her job, she hated that everyone she talked to was bothered by her call, but what choice did she have? There weren’t a ton of options when it came to jobs she could do at home and also not have even a high school degree. She was an early diagnosis schizophrenic paired with bipolar disorder. When she was on her meds she was okay, but her hallucinations often told her not to take them. No to mention she got pregnant when she was seventeen. That combination practically knocked the diploma out of her hands.

On the phone with her boss, I tried to adjust my voice like Gen always did when she had to call my mom or me out. I told her him that I needed “my” list of numbers to call for the day. I guess I wasn’t as good at faking my mom’s voice as Gen was; he didn’t believe for a second that I was her. It’s harder to add twenty four years to your age than eighteen. At least, that’s how I made myself feel better. So I lied. I told him my mom was in the shower and wanted the list of numbers so she could start as soon as she got out. He groaned quietly, and my lie distracted him enough that he gave over the numbers, no more questions asked. Perv.

Then I called my school. I guess I sounded older this time, because they believed me when I said “Hello, this is Annika Grant. My daughter, Lia, won’t be in school today, I’m afraid she has a touch of the flu.” The school receptionist told me that for heaven’s sake, keep her home, we can’t let anyone else get sick. Flu’s turn into epidemics and we don’t need that to deal with. Then she slammed the phone down. Friendly as ever.

I wanted to curl up into a little, protective ball on the floor, close my eyes, and wake up into a different life, because I certainly didn’t want this one. But I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t have the luxury of being sad. I got to work, doing my mom’s job, so that she didn’t spill her emotions onto her customers and get fired. Again. Occasionally she’d wake up and cry and I’d go comfort her. I suddenly realized why young mothers were always so tired; babies are all consuming.

When I had a moment, thought, my thoughts were on Gen. My sister, my everything. I didn’t want to have to do her job. As selfish as it was, I didn’t want my mom to be my responsibility. I wanted Gen to be the responsible one. I wanted her to be there for me like she always had been. She was the one that took me to school. She went was the one who made my Halloween costumes. She had let me believe in Santa Claus for eight years, doing all the things my friends’ moms did. She always knew what to do. I wish I had asked her how she did that.

How could she have done this to me? But then again, how could she have not? She was nineteen. She was smart and capable and strong. She had everything going for her. Of course she would leave home. What else was there for her to do, if she wanted a life worth living? If I were her, I would have run away too. But without Gen, I was nothing. She could make it on her own; she was already basically doing it. Except when she was at home, she had to take care of a twelve year old and a practically invalid thirty-six year old mother. It would probably be a lot easier for her without us.

…

I hadn’t eaten all day. I went to the fridge, thinking that maybe I could make dinner like Gen did, but there wasn’t any food. Of course. It was Tuesday. Gen always bought our weekly food on Tuesdays.

“Lia, I’m hungry.” Mom had slipped in. She was rubbing her eyes like a toddler just waking up from a nap. When she saw the empty fridge she started to cry.

“Oh, Lia I’m so sorry. Gen was right, I’m a horrible mother.  You should’ve left with her. I should just die, clearly that’s what would be best for everyone…” she went on whimpering like that until I found my way over to her.

“Shh, Mom, it’s okay. I’ll get some food tomorrow, it’s okay, shh.” I soothed her until she stopped crying, while wishing that Gen had taken me with her. 

I gave my mom a few sleeping pills just to get her off my back. I’d seen Gen do it before when she needed a break. She took them easily enough; maybe she wanted a break too. Then I went to do my school work, sitting at the kitchen table. After two hours I was finally done. My mind was spinning with everything I had to do now. I had to buy the groceries and pay the bills. But how was I supposed to do this without my license? How was I supposed to use a credit card when I could barely pass for fourteen? I had to get my mom functioning again, but who knew when she would crash for whatever reason? What if she had to go back on medications? What if she had to go back to the hospital? How would we afford it? What would happen to me? Tears collected in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks without me even realizing they were coming. I cried until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore, and collapsed on to the table.

…

I stirred then bolted up right, looking around in a panic, confused about where I was. Memories of the day before flooded my brain and I suddenly wanted to go to sleep again. But no, I had to get up.

“Mom,” I called. No answer. Understandable. She could sleep through anything. I went to her door and knocked.

“Hey, Mom, wake up. You’ve got work.” Nothing.

“Alright, I can do your work, but you have to get up okay?” Not a sound.

“Mom? Come on. Mom, are you okay?” I open the door up a sliver to peek in. Then I threw it open.

She was gone.

No. Not again. I ran around the apartment, searching every room, every tiny corner that I knew she wouldn’t fit in, just trying to pretend that I hadn’t been abandoned by everyone in my life. After searching our three room apartment for half an hour, I finally stopped. And that’s when I found her note. And I knew it was over.

Lia,
I have to leave. Don’t come looking for me. You won’t like what you see. I’m sorry. I know a good mother wouldn’t leave you. But I can’t keep living like this.
-Annika Grant

She hadn’t even signed it “Mom.” Annika Grant. Like I was a friend she was leaving. At least she knew what a horrible mother she was, I thought bitterly. But at the same time, I felt haunted by that one like “you won’t like what you see.” I knew what that meant. I knew what she was about to do. And how could I be fully angry at her, when her one of her last thoughts was about how horrible she was?

I couldn’t pretend that she meant that much to me. She was barely present in my life. But still, she was my mother. And I felt strangely empty with her gone. I knew I was supposed to go after her, find her, take her home and take care of her. I was supposed to save her. But I knew she was serious. And I knew I didn’t want to see her like that.

Looking at it, I realized I hadn’t ever really read Gen’s note. Maybe she had left me instructions on what to do. Maybe she had left me her number, her address, maybe there was a secret code for me to get in contact with her. Because there was no way Gen would let this happen. No way.

I found her note and saw it was in two parts. One for Mom, or Annika. It basically said that Gen wouldn’t put up with it anymore. That she deserved a life and she wouldn’t sacrifice that any longer. It also begged my mom to get help. Her note to me, however, was much longer.

Dear Li,

This morning, before I left, I walked into your room. I wanted to say goodbye. You were asleep. I remember tucking you into that same bed every night for years, reading you stories or making them up. You used to fall asleep in my arms. And when you got older and didn’t want me to tuck you in anymore, I’d come in anyway and you’d tell me all about your day. The new boy in school, the girl in class that invited you to her birthday party. Those were the only times I ever got to relax. I’ll miss those times more than ever.
As I stood there in your room though, I knew I couldn’t wake you up. I wouldn’t be able to last through the goodbye. Once I saw your face, your eyes looking into mine, I’d never be able to leave you. And you might wish that I had, but I had to leave. I had to.
God Li, I’m so sorry. I never wanted this life for you. And I would do anything to save you from it. And that’s why I’m doing this. You’ll never leave me, I know that. You deserve a mother who loves you and who can take care of you and be a mom. And as much as I love you, Li, I’m not a mom. I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time. I never got to be a kid, so how can I know how to raise one?
And I know I deserve my own life too. I want to go to college, Li, I want to have a job, a real job. I want to have a family and have my own baby and grow old with someone. I want all the best in the world for you, but I want a little for myself too. 
So here’s what I want you to do. Go to the DCS. They’ll find you a home. Knowing you, anyone would be happy to have you as their daughter. I know I feel lucky to have you as my sister.
You are such a strong person. I know that my leaving it a lot, but I also know that you can handle it. I know you can do everything I can do and more. You grew up through hell and still became an amazing girl. That’s more than I can say for myself.
I know Mom isn’t going to take this well. I hope she doesn’t hurt you for it. Don’t listen to her if she tries to make you feel guilty. She doesn’t know what’s going on anymore. She’s sick and there is nothing more you can do for her. Nothing either of us can do. She needs professional help, but only she can get it for her. Don’t put that on you.
Listen, if you don’t want to see me again, I understand. But if you do want me to find you one day, I will. I’ll come back for you, just give me time. Leave me a note in our place. I promise you I’ll find you if that’s what you want. 
I love you, Li.
I’m sorry.
-Gen

I sat, just staring at the letter. The DCS. They had come to our house once. Gen had saved me then, keeping me from being taken away, because she was an adult, legally. That’s why she stayed for so long, I think. And now she was telling me to go there. I knew what happened to those kids. They got put in foster care systems with way too many other kids. They got lost. I wouldn’t one of those kids. I couldn’t be. So I packed my few belongings in my backpack. And I closed the door behind me.