Older Sister

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I am an older sister. My younger sister is five years younger than me. She’s turning thirteen this year. It will be her first year of high school, it will be my last. 

I am an older sister. Me and my younger sister, we share a room. She has the top bunk, and I have the bottom bunk. She’s still very little, so some mornings when she’s tired I let her jump into my arms instead of coming down the rungs of the bunk. The metal hurts her feet, and she’s clumsy in the mornings. 

I am an older sister. My younger sister is a gentle, sweet child. She is short for her age, and she’s a little quiet, but she is a good kid. She’s very smart, and she’s going to do so well in school. She likes to read, and she likes to draw. This morning, she dressed herself in her new school uniform, and double checked all her books and pens were in her backpack. She moves quietly, carefully. She also checked mine for me.

I’ve made breakfast for the both of us. Eggs on toast, with salt for me, eggs on toast, with sugar for her. It’s her first day of school, so I’ve put coloured sprinkles on her toast. She smiles as she eats it, and I wash the dishes before we set out for school. 

We don’t go to the same school. Her school is the local school, mine is a bit further away. I walk her to the school entrance, and watch as she enters the gates. She’s scared, I know. But she’s going to be okay. 

I’m an older sister. I will look after my younger sister. Our parents are no longer around, and they never will be. I made sure of that. My sister is enrolled in school and she will stay enrolled in school. I will make sure of that.

What happened to me, cannot happen to her.

It’s time for me to go to school as well. But my school is very far away. It’s a butcher shop, on a small mall strip. The shops on either side of it are closed, blackout curtains and graffiti paint. I check in with my shift manager and tie on the apron. He’s quite nice, all things considered. Day shifts are hard to organise, and he usually stays up late most nights. But he gives them to me, when I need them. And these days, I need them. School’s back, after all.

I will give my sister what was never given to me. I will make sure she’s fed and warm, make sure she’s dry and safe. I will make sure she never has to see needles lying in the living room, feel the terror of strangers who look at her with black eyes, the violence of rough hands on her body. For her, I will persevere. Against our situation, against our circumstances. 

There’s a knife in my hand, and I slice into the carcasses before me. Separating the poultry into nice, sizeable pieces. I’ve been doing this for a few years now. I know the exact angle and amount of pressure I must apply for the thigh to separate cleanly from the drumstick.  I know how to flawlessly skin the breast so that it comes off in one easy, satisfying piece. I know how many grams of meat each chicken holds just by holding it. I know the best way to break it down, cleanly, methodically. The job must get done. My knife is sharp enough to cut light, and it glints under the fluorescent. 

The butcher shop gets a lot of regular customers. Most weeks are very predictable. And the customers always buy the same cuts of chicken.

I will go to school tomorrow. But for today, I need a bit more money to make rent for this month. 

And I work at the butchers. But I don’t really work at the butchers. The butchers is a washing machine, and the chicks here sell best at night. 

I just happen to also know how to work a knife. So, I stand here for appearances, much like the meat I cut. I’m paid the same rate in the day, as any of the girls at night. And in the two hours, I’ll have done all the cutting for the week’s display. And for the four hours after that, I’ll grit my teeth and smile through the rest of it. 

And I only have to do this one day a week, just enough so I can look after my younger sister. 

And I think of her, through my day at work. She brings a smile to my face, one that’s pure and kind. It helps a lot, with the work. 

And once the day’s done, I’ll shower. I’ll get dressed. I’ll tidy myself up. The shift manager will give me some excess chicken, and he’ll tell me which day to come next week. I’ll walk to my sister’s school, best as I can. I’ll pick her up, and we’ll go home. 

And this week, like every other week, we’ll eat chicken.