Worse, we were coming up on a presidential election and for some reason the media were calling for Sonia to run. This news shocked Sonia more than any of us, but she politely demurred and reiterated that she was happy serving the great state of Illinois as a Senator.
It was now Saturday and the remaining eight of us descended on Tabby’s rathole apartment downtown. We had boxes, newspaper, packing tape, and everything else we’d need to box up our sister’s life. Jonah was out doing something with Ryan and Aunt Delores had Rory for the day.
I swore you could hear a pin drop with how quiet all of us were when Mama Kerri opened Tab’s door and let us all in. We stood in the center of a very sparsely furnished place. The only thing of true value seemed to be the framed images on the walls.
When Tabby wasn’t going from crummy job to her dealers, she would take photos. I remember all the years she had a camera hanging around her neck. It was the first present she’d gotten from Mama Kerri on her fourteenth birthday with us. Instantly she set about taking photos of everything. Us. The garden plants and flowers. Landscapes. Broken down things that she somehow made cool through her lens.
I walked around to each photo starting with the one over her ratty couch. It was a gorgeous one of Mama Kerri with her big sun hat on, her long strawberry hair falling down her back in curly waves looking a stunning pinky gold. She was pruning her wildflowers and the sun caught her smile perfectly as she’d turned just half her face toward the camera.
I kept going, walking around the room until I found the one that always devasted me. It was of a woman leaning against the side of a brick building. A cigarette lit and hanging out of her mouth. She had black hair and even darker eyes that were hollowed out and empty. Her body was thin and pale. A junkie. Next to her feet was a small child. A little girl with a filthy mop of black hair and light, haunting eyes. She had smudges of dirt on her cheeks and she was playing with a single feather. It was as though she’d been captured running her fingers up and down the feather, feeling the life that had been attached to it. A different life. One that was free. There was a small smile to that little girl’s face as though she hadn’t yet been broken down or was doing her best to survive the circumstances she’d been given. The little girl still had hope in those eyes.
I knew in my whole heart why Tabby took a picture of that junkie mother and her daughter. She saw herself in that little girl.
The hope for more.
I lifted the picture off the wall and announced, “I’d like to have this picture.” I turned it around and showed the group.
None of them made any case for wanting it themselves. Either because they didn’t see what Tabby saw, or they did and wanted me to have what I needed to remember Tabitha by. I carefully brought the picture to a side wall. Each of the sisters chose an image they liked that Tabby had taken herself and enjoyed it enough to put it on her wall, and then set their choice next to mine. I put sticky notes on each one with the corresponding sister’s name.
After a couple hours we were making good progress. Each of us focused on a different area of the small apartment. We’d selected pieces of her clothing that we wanted to keep and boxed up the rest for donation. Any sentimental items we remembered and wanted, we set aside for ourselves. Addy had found Tab’s camera and told everyone that she wanted it. Whatever Addy needed to get through the horrendous experience she’d suffered, any one of us would give her.
We continued at a solid pace, boxing up her kitchen for immediate donation. Everything was mismatched, nothing of any real value.
“What’s this?” Addison called out, after she lifted a multicolored scarf off of a chest that Tabby had been using as a coffee table. She still had bandages wrapped around her arms, but she hid them by wearing a loose long-sleeve shirt.
I went over to her side and sat on the ratty couch as she lifted the latch and opened it. Inside were nothing but what looked like matching photo albums and extra blankets. I ran my finger over the huge three-inch-wide spines that faced the opening of the chest. There was one with each of our names on them.
I pulled out the one that said Simone as Addy grabbed the one that said Addison.
The photo book was rather heavy and huge. At least fourteen inches by fourteen inches. A perfect fat square. They were all a shiny black with silver imprint.
Addy and I opened ours at the same time. The first page had an awesome image of me. My blonde hair was blowing all over the place. I was wearing this baby blue button-up sleeveless shirt and a burgundy wide-brimmed hat that I was trying to keep from blowing away. A teasing smirk was plastered across my lips. I remembered Tabby taking that picture when we were downtown at the Taste of Chicago, a huge festival that was held every summer. We were hanging out overlooking Lake Michigan when Tabby started taking pictures. Across my chest in a super cool font were the words WILD CHILD. The image reminded me of a wicked cool book cover.
“Wow, this is badass.” Addison traced her image and the words WILD BEAUTY graphically designed over her picture.
I turned the page and there was picture after picture of me, or me with Tabby, or me with the rest of my sisters and Mama Kerri. I kept turning. It was years’ worth of pictures. More than a decade’s worth. I went to the very back. The first image was one she’d had to have taken when she first got the camera at fourteen. I would have been just barely twelve. It was a selfie of me and Tabby. Under it she wrote, Soul Sisters Forever.
Soul Sisters.
That’s what we were.
That’s what she died for.
That’s why I had to accept her sacrifice as the gift it was intended to be.
I reached for Sonia’s and Blessing’s books. Addison took Liliana’s and Charlie’s except hers said Charlotte which was her real name. I didn’t look inside to see what she’d named them, though I hoped one day they would share. For now, whatever was in their picture book was for them and Tabby alone.
Sonia frowned when I stood in front of her with the heavy book.
“We found these picture books in a chest. There’s one for each of us.” I handed her the one with her name on it.
The only way I could see how affected Sonia was in that moment was because her hands shook when she reached for the book that had Sonia in beautiful silver etching down the spine.
She ran the flat of her hand over it lovingly then looked up at me. Her eyes were filled with tears when she said, “Thank you.”
I handed Blessing’s to her. She reached for it, saw her beautiful name, and held it against her chest as she looked up at the ceiling. “God dammit, Tabby, why did you do this to us! I miss your face. I miss your awkward hugs. I miss your bony white ass dancing around Mama’s house taking pictures. I miss my sister!” She sucked back a sob. Sonia got up and pulled Blessing into her arms.
“Me too, Bless, me too.” She cooed over her shoulder.
“We didn’t get enough time with her.” Blessing sobbed which truly was a miracle. The woman was such a hard ass, she rarely shed tears. Her response to emotional conflict was usually to get mad and get even. There was no getting even when the person you’re mad at was no longer living.
“Sister, it would never have been enough time.” I ran my hand down her back as Sonia served as her rock, holding Blessing up while she gave in to the grief.
Addison gave the other girls their books and I went back, got Genesis’s and Mama’s, and brought them to where they were boxing up Tabitha’s small bedroom items. I handed the respective books to Gen, then to Mama.