24 December 2006

“Sis! Mummy says to ask you to get a bottle of marinade for the turkey tonight.” I hovered in the doorway of my sister’s room, waiting for her reply.

Jessica continued scribbling for a few seconds before sighing and turning to face me. “Got it.” She muttered in a monotone, grabbing her wallet and brushing past me out of her room without so much as a backward glance.

I bit my lip, attempting to ignore what I could distinctly discern from that look that Jessica gave me. It’s okay, she was just annoyed that you disturbed her. Nothing more… I did my best to comfort myself, to push that thought to the back of my mind. But it lingered, persistently resurfacing to taunt me, to remind me of what I saw in that single glance. Was that a tinge of hatred that I saw in Jessica’s eyes?

Feeling disheartened, I was just about to leave my sister’s room when something caught my eye. There on Jessica’s desk lay the open notebook that she was scribbling in earlier. Without realising it, my feet had carried me over to her desk, following the command of the curiosity that had unfurled within me.

I picked up the hot pink notebook, the faux leather cover. Running my fingers along the length of the page, I paused at the first line. “24 December 2006.” Today. It was written today, just before Jessica left on the errand. This was her diary.

My eyes scanned the entry, coming to a rest at the last line. I gasped, dropping the notebook back onto the desk. How could I have never known that my sister felt that way? I backed away from the table, shaking my head in an attempt to rid my memory of that one line, written in my sister’s perfect cursive font.

“Dear Santa, I don’t need any gifts. All I ask for is to be seen by my mummy as her daughter, Jessica, and NOT ‘Krystal’s elder sister’.”