Saturday, September 14th
The start of the academic year is in two days' time, and for me, today is the eve of departure. Classes won't start for another week and a half, but tomorrow I'll be moving to the campus. More than fifteen hundred kilometers from home. Kilometers I'll be covering in the company of my older sister, Sara.
Sara is 32 years old and married Damien Rives seven years ago. And although she's the mother of three beautiful children, she's not only my sister, she's also a second mother to me. She's a right-hand woman to my sister, so it was a no-brainer that she offered to accompany me to university when I refused to fly. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'd have loved to have flown, but when I saw the price of the ticket compared to what it would cost us to travel by car, I didn't hesitate and forced my mother to keep the difference to ease her daily burden.
It's going to take us no less than two days to get there, and it's all going to be on the road! Knowing my sister, we'll have to negotiate bathroom breaks, and forget about stopping for a bite to eat - it'll all be in the car, with as little crumbs as possible! But, despite these contradictory tocs that make me laugh, I'm looking forward to it, because it'll give me the chance to leave my family gently, and the journey won't seem so long if I'm not on my own.
If my mother is anxious to let me go, for me it's a little comfort. A little stress evaporates. Even if I know perfectly well that I won't escape the inevitable.
As I write this, I'm in my bedroom, tucked away in my closet. As I've always done, ever since I discovered this hiding place at the age of five, to escape my horde of sisters who thought I was a doll.
I'm Kristen Dickinson, the last of eight siblings and the only one to be as blonde as wheat, like my mother, with wavy hair and green eyes, unlike my sisters who are brunettes with straight hair and blue eyes as beautiful as the ocean.
Fortunately for my mother, bickering has always been rare in our house. We're relatively close to each other, and we don't like to be angry with each other. And if it does happen, it never lasts very long.
I've never had the chance to get to know my sire. In fact, the word "father" is not in our vocabulary. When we're forced to talk about it at home, we only use the words he or it. Outside, the excuse given is that he's an important man who travels a lot. All this has made it difficult for me to be accepted by others all my life, just like my sisters before me.
Unfortunately, unlike them, I haven't had the courage to continue supporting the people here for the next four years. A distant world beckoned every time I set foot outside, so as soon as the opportunity to change air presented itself, I jumped at it immediately and without regret.
However, if there's one thing I can't fault this man for, it's that he's always generously provided for our family. Well, almost. Let's just say we've never lacked for anything, thanks to the copious pension paid for my sister Carolyne - the second youngest of the siblings, who is 19 - and me, which is much larger than for the rest of my sisters. Don't ask me why, I have absolutely no idea. You'd think it'd be because he prefers us to be the youngest, although I don't think that's right, but it's not. Apart from that, we don't get much more consideration. Still, it's largely thanks to him that I'm able to study at a private university for "daddy's boys and girls" on the other side of the country.
It's for this reason that I've decided to start writing a diary, I think it's a good start to help me evacuate my thoughts and all the things I won't be able to confide to my sisters and friends, or my mother, about this new departure on my own...
I'll miss my sisters, but I know they'll always find a way to visit and surprise me when I least expect it. As is their wont. I love them so much...
On the other hand, I find it harder to leave my mother. I know she's worried about me. It's so intense that I can see it in her eyes every time she looks at me. What puzzles me is that it's not because I'm alone a thousand miles away. She obviously doesn't seem to believe that I can be alone in any way. Nor for my studies, since she's the one who reassures me every day that I've always been more responsible than my sisters of the same age, and that my school record is beyond reproach... Blah, blah, blah... What worries her is my approaching birthday. Even though I've still got three months to go. On December 14, I'll be 18...
I know that this day will be special and important for every member of my family, because I won't be a child anymore. What upsets me the most is that I have no idea why this event is so worrying, so heavy and so solemn. Every time I try to think and understand, I come up against an inner wall that prevents me from going any further... I should be rejoicing, excited at the idea of going out to party with my friends and no longer having a curfew to respect! But no, at home, that's not how it happens... I just suspect it has something to do with the man who is my mother's husband and our progenitor, and who has come to her every two years or so to conceive each of us. It must also have something to do with the fact that only sisters who have reached the age of majority are allowed to attend the sister's eighteenth birthday party.
***
So here's a quick rundown of the Dickinson siblings:
- Sara, 32, born on September 3.
- Magdalena (aka Mag), 29, born on September 19.
- Rosélia, aged 27, born on October 4.
- Katharina, 25, born October 20.
- Ludovica, 23, born November 5.
- Élisabeth, 21, born November 16.
- Carolyne (alias Caly), 19, born December 1.
- Me: Kristen, 17, born December 14.
After much nagging, Mom promised that I would know our family history before the fateful date. In fact, it was because she couldn't tell me why she disagreed with my leaving that she couldn't stop me. Granted, it was lame to play the blackmail card about family secrets, but it had to be done. I had to leave! It's almost painful. It's been in my gut for so long, I don't know how long the outside world has been calling me! I crack, I know I must follow my path, even with the fear of the unknown in my stomach.
With Sara vowing that she would take care of everything for me, my mother's anxiety finally faded and was replaced by pride at seeing her last chick leave the nest, with such independence and determination. Now, the excitement of the final preparations is at its peak.
My refuge is soothing, even though I can hear Elisabeth, Carolyne and Ludovica arguing behind the doors, unaware that I'm there, about what to put in my hand luggage or in the suitcases that will contain the rest of my wardrobe. Because yes, they've never discovered my hiding place in twelve years!
Twelve years... A dull ache awakens deep inside me, a terrible lack overwhelms me... Why? What does it mean? What am I missing so much?
