North Star

32 | sign of the times

2011

[ LYANNA ]

Hey, are we still down for this week? Lmk.

[ LYANNA ]

Just checking if you're okay. Haven't heard in a while.

[ LYANNA ]

If you want me to drop off the oboe sometime this week, I can do that. Just lmk what time works best.

[ LYANNA ]

Here if you need me. Hope you're doing okay.

Guilt ate at me for ignoring, yet, another text from Lyanna about oboe lessons, but I didn't have any energy to go to them anymore, and because I had no spine, I couldn't tell her about it even after being upfront about how forgiving she was for canceling them. I knew I should have just asked my mom to give her a call to break the news, but even that felt like a burden since she was my dad's number one support system right now, and asking her to do anything took that resource away from him.

"What is that about?" Kanani peeked over at my screen before I tucked it away, out of sight.

It was a Sunday afternoon and Kanani and I were having our brains rewired while watching Black Swan as Leimomi worked on one of her school projects. She had her earphones in while she listened to music and sang along with it, which was a little distracting against the ominous backdrop of the Aronofsky flick, but I didn't mind. Ever since she began picking up singing more in the past year, we had all been gifted with her absentminded displays of talent, and it seemed like such a waste to put a stop to them once they started.

"Mind your business," I grunted.

In the universal language of siblings, that was practically an invitation to keep prying, so that was exactly what Kanani did. Not that she needed my permission. She did whatever she wanted. "Did you cancel your lessons?"

"No." It technically wasn't a lie. I hadn't canceled them yet.

"So, you're just ghosting them then."

"No." Okay, that was a lie. "Leave me alone."

Kanani scooted closer to me on the couch, and since I was already pressed up against the armrest, I had nowhere to go. "I'm pretty sure that was you ghosting your tutor."

"I'm pretty sure I just said to mind your business."

"Why aren't you going anymore?" she asked. "I know you stopped playing music at home."

Being called out on something that I should have known was painfully obvious but had convinced myself no one noticed because I refused to acknowledge that anyone cared about me enough to pay attention wasn't fun. The fact it hadn't crossed my mind once that she already knew I had stopped playing was a little hilarious in hindsight. There weren't many things Kanani and I were capable of keeping away from each other, as was the case with most sisters who were close in age.

"I've been busy."

Kanani laughed. "With what? You don't do any extracurriculars."

"I just am. Can you leave me alone?"

There were many times when I truly didn't mind Kanani giving me a little push to talk about things I avoided because it was often the only way I opened up. If it meant not letting grievances bubble beneath the surface, I could handle the pressure and come to appreciate it, even if I didn't realize it until much later.

There were also times when I didn't have it in me to care. And maybe that was when I needed it more, but energy wasn't something I could just pull out of thin air. Considering how bleak and emotionally draining the movie we were watching was, I was less inclined to talk about anything at the moment.