Wynter Shaw
How many times have I heard the story of how I came to be?
Too many to fucking count.
It all started with my older sister. Summer Dae Shaw. She got cancer when she was six. The type where you basically are gonna die no matter what, but with a bone marrow transplant, maybe you won’t die so soon.
My parents weren’t matches. Neither were their parents. And being only children from only children, that meant there were no options.
Then, my mom wins the fucking lottery.
And my dad won some jackpot at Tomahawk Casino in East Kenton.
So they find this doctor, pay beaucoup cash, and get inseminated with three fertilized embryos with specialized DNA. Guaranteed matches.
Two of them took. Me, and my sister, Autumn.
I guess, “guaranteed matches” could mean multiple things.
I was a carbon copy of my sister, without the cancer, but I wasn’t a viable bone marrow match.
My sister Autumn was.
So right away, our relationship with our parents was… wonky. Autumn was poked and prodded at the hospital with Mom and Summer.
I was left with Dad. On his lap at the high roller table.
But it didn’t matter, Summer kept getting sicker. She lived in the hospital, with Mom praying she could hold on until Autumn was old enough to give the good stuff.
Pieces of liver.
A kidney.
Shit like that.
Except… we were kids. Human beings with our own thoughts. And even though Autumn was just spare parts, and I was just… here… Summer saw us as her little sisters.
She talked to us. Encouraged us. Gave us a choice.
The last time I saw her, we were eight. Dad dropped me off in her room to go argue with her new doctor.
Autumn was finally big enough for a big surgery. But Summer’s new doctor thought like Summer.
She gave Autumn a choice.
Autumn said no.
And now, they were arguing.
I cuddled up with Summer on her bed, as Maury played on her tv. She always loved playing in my hair, so I would lay with my head in her lap while she ran her fingers through my scalp.
“How’s Auty?” she asked, turning the volume down so she wouldn’t have to project her voice.
My first instinct was to lie. When Autumn asked about Summer, I’d lie and say she was okay. When Mom would ask me if Dad and I had been to the casino, I’d lie and say we hadn’t.
But for whatever reason, I couldn’t lie to Summer. Not when she would gently pull my head so that we were looking at each other.
She had more freckles than me. Way more. They were even on the top of her bald head, and were on her shoulders, chest, and arms. She licked her dry lips and waited for me to answer.
“She’s not okay,” I whispered finally. “I think she’s going to have the surgery.”
Summer scrunched up her nose. “You can’t let her, Wynnie.”
I sat up, and moved so that we were facing each other. Tears gathered in my lids, but Summer’s face hardened more. She turned the tv off and folded her arms.
“Why are you crying?” she hissed.
“If she doesn’t do the surgery, you’re gonna die!” I cried.
“Wynnie, I’m dying anyway! We talked about this!”
And we had. Summer had never sugarcoated anything with me. One day, when I was five, and everyone else was asleep, she taught me about life and death, and then told me she was dying.
She’d been preparing me for the inevitable for years, because our parents refused to accept it, and Autumn was just happy to be included most days. I was surprised she refused the surgery, but knowing Summer, she’d probably gotten to Autumn, like she’d gotten to me.
“Wynnie,” she intoned, her frail hands grabbing mine, “neither one of you should ever have to do something you don’t want to do. That goes for now and when you grow up. And nobody, absolutely nobody, especially someone I love, should ever be hurt so that I could feel better.
If that’s the price for my health, I won’t pay it. Especially if I’m dying anyway.”
I nodded, letting her words wash over me. It wasn’t the first, second, or third time she’d said them.
When it was just us, Summer would tell me about the ways of life very different from how we lived. She told me all her hopes and dreams, and what she wanted for the sisters she was leaving behind.
When Mom and Dad were around, she was mute, a small smile on her face, agreeable to anything they and her team of doctors wanted.
Her true personality was only shown to me. Even with Autumn, she was timid. Softer voice, smiles galore.
Not with me.
She was tough, so that I could be tough. I was older than Autumn by six minutes, but even if I wasn’t, I knew it would still be the same.
I was her protector, from everyone.
Even herself.
“Promise me you won’t let her do the surgery, Wynnie.”
I nodded again.
“And promise me you’ll hold onto Auty. No matter what, Wynnie. You do what’s best for you and Auty. Promise.”
Tears slid down my face as I promised her. I didn’t know what that would be, what I could do, when I could barely remember to finish my reading homework, but I still promised her, because I would do anything for her and Autumn.
“I love you Summy,” I whispered.
She smiled at me, a genuine one, before her eyebrows furrowed, her mouth went slack, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head.
She began to seize so violently that she kicked me off of her bed.
My screams alerted the nurses, who pulled me out of the room.
That was the last time I saw my sister Summer.
She didn’t get to tell me she loved me back.