Older Sister. Not Necessarily Related. by Jenny Heijun Wills

Author:Jenny Heijun Wills [Heijun Wills, Jenny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: McClelland & Stewart
Published: 2019-09-17T00:00:00+00:00

She stayed as long as she could. But one day, while I was working at the bar, Bora filled her suitcase with as much as would fit. She left traces behind in every corner of the front bedroom of our Sherbrooke and Papineau walk-up. Years later, when she returned to Canada, we half-heartedly argued over who was the rightful owner of the yellow sweater she hadn’t had space for in her luggage. I wore it to paint a room. The sleeves are too short for you anyhow, my sister noticed.

At the airport, I cried openly but without noise. My sister tried to laugh with me. I made her uncomfortable. Bora asked, why? I’ll see you soon! and patted my back when I tried to hold on to her for one minute more. She wished she could be everything I needed her to be. But it was too much for one person to carry. Bora wanted to go home. She didn’t cry then, but said later that she hoped I hadn’t taken it the wrong way. I hardly ever cry, especially in front of my family, she said.

Bora was exhausted. She almost missed her flight because everything was written in French and she had spent months studying English. She only knew bonjour and merci and tartine. She was afraid to ask for help in English. On the plane, she was in the centre of a row of five seats. The man sitting directly in front of her immediately reclined his chair and she could smell his unwashed hair. The journey to Narita took fifteen hours and thirteen minutes. Then one more flight before arriving home.

Maybe it was because she was nervous or maybe it was because we’d left for the airport around five in the morning, but Bora fell asleep immediately upon boarding. She felt the hum of the plane’s engine, a gentle cradle. She heard the soft white noise of other passengers, a lullaby. She thought she’d slept for hours, but when she woke up, they’d not yet started to taxi back from the gate. The flight attendants were doing the safety demonstration in French. She wondered if they had already done it in English. The crew played an audio recording in Japanese, but by then they’d given up their routine and were slamming shut over-stuffed storage bins. Recalling this years later, seated at my kitchen table in Winnipeg, Bora said, I’m sorry I had to leave the way I did. I know you were afraid we’d lose each other. But we’re sisters. So I’ll always come back. She told me that as the plane took off, without anyone to witness, she started to cry.

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