The Squeaky Wheel

My sister was a squeaky wheel, literally. She had a growth on her voice box that made her voice higher pitched than normal. She would ask for the most outlandish things and get them.

The best thing she ever asked, though, in her squeaky little voice was this:

We were laying in our bunk beds in our low rent apartment. We were Catholic School kids, and though, presumably, we hadn't worn our uniforms to bed, our world was full of grey wool plaid. I remember a year when a thread-thin vertical green and horizontal 0yellow stripe made their way into the standard-issued jumpers and I thought, consciously, what a fine thing color was.

Our teachers, the nuns, spouted the gospel of Jesus, or as it is known in school, the gospel of hope/love and forced us to give them awkward hugs as we entered and left each day as a begining and an end to the day's degredation:

(Me)
"Divorce is a sin, you're mother is going to hell."
"All the girls where jumpers. Take off those pants."
"What makes you think you're so special?"
"You will never go to college with a mouth like that."
"How will you ever get married in a church if you don't act more like a lady"

(My Sister)
"Take off that lip gloss, you look like a whore."
"Do you know what happens to girls who try to get the boys to notice them?"
"Oh, you, you don't need to worry about college. Find a nice husband."

Our favorite time of the day was when my mom would sit with us at night. Because my sister was younger she had the bottom bunk and my mom would lay with her and read or tell us stories. I would lay there looking up at the ceiling, listening, trying to imagine the pictures in the book.

I was in one such daze, when my sister's squeaky, miniature voice called up to me, "Beth . . . are you awake?"

(Beth was my childhood nickname.)

"Yes?"
"(Timidly) Do you . . . love me?"

This is probably the seminal moment in my life, the moment I understood what it meant to have another living person's feeling in your hands.

"Yes. I do."
"I love you, too."

So, in a way, I understand why my sister got a lot. She was the baby, and a baby with a growth in her throat who said great things at the most unexpected moments.