Neenie's Stubborn Will

The two sisters had lived alone,
now sharing the younger one's house
because of a broken ankle.
Neenie sat on the love seat in the
living room,
only leaving the spot to use the facilities,
or to enter the kitchen to make a sandwich
or a cup of tea.
Her sister was of very little help,
she put up with her,
but showed no love or compassion,
to the plight of the poor cripple,
perhaps left over from childhood sibling rivalry
or as I suspected,
just a hatred borne by time.

Neenie loved to read to us and to hear
about the books we had read. We told her of all the novels
we read in school,
omitting pornography and Henry Miller.
Her favorite was a poem by Robert Service,
The Cremation of Sam Mcgee
a poem she had memorized, hoping all the time
that she would be cremated in the same way,
and never be cold again!

While lying on the couch with her broken ankle,
her sister had served her and taken care of her needs
minimally,
one day she did not come down the stairs
in the morning.
Neenie wondered all morning what had become
of her.
She called up the stairs from her place on the couch,
but received no answer.
She waited the whole day until finally, after dark,
her sister called down that she was sick.
Neenie was worried but managed to take care of her own
needs,
laying awake all night, wondering what was to be
done about her sister.

The next day, with a strength hidden in those old
bones and wrinkly skin,
she managed to make a ham sandwich,
place it in a baggie,
and crawl up the stairs to feed her sister.
Her sister told her to leave it on the top of the stairs and
she would pick it up later.
Neenie crawled back to her couch
and lay there lamenting her age
and her disability.
She continued this for two more days,
becoming increasingly weak herself,
and never receiving a word of thanks
or encouragement.

I dropped in two days after her sister had finally
made it out of bed.
Neenie looked terrible,
her eyes were sunken
and she had no energy.
She told me the whole story while her sister had gone
to the mall to do some "shopping".
I asked her why she hadn't called me or Skip,
but she waved that off saying she
didn't want to disturb our studies.
She told me she had finally phoned the doctor
and everything was going fine now.
I hated her sister for treating her that way
secretly vowing to somehow get some
revenge.

A week later her sister died,
that is to say, she was found dead.
The doctor said she had a massive heart
attack,
but I think it was suicide, a bittier old
woman,
acting like a Queen until the final second.
I received the call at school,
and prepared for the funeral.
There were no tears evident,
Skip wasn't there,
Neenie couldn't be moved from the house.
She was lowered into the freezing ground,
an apt resting place,
matching the coldness of her life.

Neenie died three years later,
by herself.
She had recovered and moved back to her home
up north.
I had gone there to paint he house and I spent
a month with her,
drinking and talking.
We seldom spoke of her sister who is, at the moment,
still asleep in the cold ground,
but Neenie was cremated, a per her wish,
and I know she is warm.

Michael Crane