Chapter 11 #3
Why the hell would you leave an infant to a twenty-one year old?
! Leave it to Belle, the fun one, to take an already unstable situation and add another plot twist. I rub my forehead as I ascend the stairs and head back to Belle’s bed.
I need to be surrounded by her if I’m going to digest her final words to me.
I place my coffee on the vanity and settle on the floor, my back against the bed. "Here goes," I mutter, carefully breaking the seal of the envelope.
Unfolding the handwritten letter, I spot Belle’s signature purple ink — a small detail that brings an unexpected smile.
Aurora,
I hope you’ll never have to read this letter, and if you are reading it I hope you’re in a good place in life.
Who am I kidding? You’re always in a good place because you’re Alis — kind, mature, and responsible.
Even though you’re my little sister, I’ve always looked up to you.
Your passion and commitment to your dreams is inspiring, and I’d like to think Sunny will inherit that same drive from you.
Thinking about dying and assets and guardianship is all incredibly depressing, but I’m glad Alex and I are handling the legal stuff in case something ridiculous happens.
We’ve talked through all the different options for who would take care of Sunny in the event she’s left without either of us, and we both agree that you are the best person for the job.
I know I should have talked to you about this first, but like I said, I’m hoping this letter never leaves the envelope.
I know you hate to be caught off guard, that you thrive on schedules and carefully thought out plans, but I know you can do this because even when everything goes awry you find a way to shine light and beauty into the darkness.
You truly are Aurora Borealis — my northern lights.
And now I need you to be that for Sunny.
I know she could live with Mom and Dad or even Alex’s parents, but she will find the most joy and adventure with you.
You have a special way of loving people, a way that cares for both the person and the soul.
I want my daughter to be surrounded by your love every day of her life if she can’t have us.
I know you’re young, but we both know you’re the adult in our relationship. You’re my best friend, my confidant, my encourager, and now I need you to be all those things for my little girl.
I love you, Alis. And I know you’re going to be an incredible Monty for Sunny. (What is a monty? It’s a word I just made up in an attempt to Brangelina the words mom and aunt. Just go with it, k?)
Still hoping you never read this letter, and also hoping I get to rewrite it when you’re thirty and married and probably already have kids of your own. If not, you got this, sis. Trust me.
Your Sunshine, Isabelle
The tears spill over, a steady stream falling onto the paper, blurring Belle's words, smudging the ink. God, I can't even cry without messing things up. I use the back of my hand to wipe away the tears; try to salvage the precious words on the paper.
Belle believed in me so much, saw in me a maturity, a capacity to love and nurture and fortheloveofallthatisholy to parent, that feels almost foreign.
And yet, here I am, twenty-one with ambitions stretching far and wide, but with resources so limited, it’s laughable.
I’d have to put those dreams on hold, reroute the carefully laid plans I had for myself.
Could I do that? Could I be that for Sunny?
A rush of thoughts inundate me, painting pictures of different futures, varying paths — some converging, some diverging drastically.
I envision waking up in the early hours to feed Sunny, bidding farewell to her and Mom before embarking on the long drive to campus, coming home after a full day of school to hold her in my arms before she falls asleep.
I could balance school and raising her, couldn't I?
Commuting, coordinating with family, living a life interspersed with baby laughter and serious study sessions.
I could morph into this person that Belle envisioned, someone steady and nurturing, even in the whirlpool of academics and research projects.
But then another reality dawns on me — the post-master’s phase, the relentless pursuit of a Ph.D.
, late nights turned into early mornings in the library, a life dictated by an ever-evolving thesis.
Could I ask Sunny to adapt to a life like that?
Could I give her the time she deserves amid the demanding hours of academia?
I wouldn’t be the only guiding figure in her life — we’d have both Mom and Dad — but I’d be her guardian. Her mother figure. Her Monty.
I'm trying to breathe, to maintain a semblance of control as the burden of choice weighs heavily on my shoulders.
I can feel the enormity of it, a pressure building in my chest, a tightness that is both terrifying and sacred.
I'm torn between being Alis, the sister engrossed in books and dreams, and becoming this person, Aurora, this guardian, this light in the darkness, who could offer Sunny a life filled with love and unwavering support.
And yet, despite the whirlwind of doubts and fears spinning in my mind, Belle’s words resound with a clarity that pierces through the chaos. A plea from someone who knew me more than anyone else, who saw in me a potential that even I find hard to see sometimes.
I glance down at the paper again, tracing the words with my fingers, feeling the ridges of the ink as if trying to grasp onto Belle, to bring her here, to ask her a thousand questions, to tell her that she’s asking too much and not enough all at once.
Belle called me her northern light, her beacon in the darkness, the constant glow that could bring warmth and light to Sunny’s world. Was that really who I was to her? Could I be that for someone else as well?
And I feel it then, the gentle flicker of a flame deep within me, a blend of resolve and love, slowly growing, warming the cold corners of doubt and fear in my mind. It’s a fragile light, one that flickers uncertainly but holds promise, a potential to grow into a guiding force, a steady glow.
Because while Belle didn’t waste her words on negativity, she also wasn’t one to hand out direct praise lightly. She saw something in me, believed in it with her whole heart. And how could I turn my back on that belief, that unyielding faith she had in me?
Grandma named us Sunny and Alis, names woven with threads of light and warmth. Perhaps it’s time to embody the spirit of my name, to rise to the occasion, to be the light that guides Sunny, nourishing her with love, teaching her to chase her dreams just like Belle taught me.
Yeah, it’s terrifying, and there are a million ways this could go wrong, but there’s also a chance, a possibility of creating something beautiful, something radiant.
And maybe, just maybe, with Belle’s blessing wrapping around us like a warm embrace, Sunny and I can find our way, lighting up each other’s paths as we venture into this new beginning, hand in tiny hand.