Dodie was sitting in her bedroom on her bed, trying to do her homework, but she was finding she was having a harder and harder time even getting started. Essay homework was never her strong suit, and in this case specifically she just wasn't exactly sure what to put down. The door to the room opened and her mother peered in, making Dodie look up at her.
"Hey Doodlebug," Regina said, "still doing homework?"
"I didn't used to have to do essays," Dodie whined.
"I know, things were easier in lower grades, but that's all part of growing up," Regina said, smiling as she entered and sat down on the bed beside her daughter.
"Maybe I should rethink this whole growing up thing," Dodie mumbled, making her mother laugh.
"Well, do you need some help? What's the essay question?" Regina asked.
"I'm supposed to write about the person I most admire," Dodie said, "but I can't think of how to do it."
"Having a hard time picking someone?" Regina asked, and Dodie shook her head, her braids swinging.
"No, I know who I'm choosing, I just don't know how to explain why," Dodie said.
***
Palmer was lying on the couch in her dorm, her legs across Anita's chest as she laid upside down, her head hanging off the couch, smoking a joint. Anita handed Palmer the joint, but she politely declined, shaking her head and shoveling chips from the bag they were sharing into her mouth.
"Don't they drug test the kids doing sports?" Palmer asked.
"Do I look like I care?" Anita asked.
"Fair enough."
"Do you not smoke?" Anita asked.
"I tried it once in high school, it just wasn't for me," Palmer said, "though, now with my dad gone...maybe I could use something to take the edge of."
"Don't get into drugs just because you're in grief," Anita said, exhaling smoke, "there's definitely pros to it, but don't do it just to escape something. I do it because it relaxes me, because god damn dude, being an athlete is stressful as hell and I need some kind of release that isn't sex or eating."
Palmer chuckled as the phone rang and she swung her legs off Anita and hopped up off the couch. She strolled across the room and answered the phone.
"Hello?" she asked.
"Hi," Dodie said, "Can I ask for help?"
"Of course, I mean, with as much as I can, considering I'm not there," Palmer said, "What do you need help with?"
"...I need help writing an essay," Dodie said.
As if college wasn't working Palmer hard enough, now she had to do 3rd grade essays to boot.
***
Palmer had never very well done in elementary school, especially when it came to writing.
She'd always struggled, partially because she'd been diagnosed with dyslexia, but she also just didn't enjoy putting her thoughts down on paper. She preferred to sift through them internally, like her mother did. She could recall one particular homework assignment from 5th grade where she was supposed to write down what she'd most like to do when she grew up, and how, since she couldn't think of anything interesting, she just wrote that she'd prefer not to grow up.
Suddenly counselors and teachers alike were worried to death about her. She was pulled from class for an hour a week and made to talk to the school psychologist, simply to ensure that she wasn't suicidal or anything like that. Palmer most certainly wasn't suicidal, she just lacked an imagination, and couldn't see the merit of deciding on a career when she was in 5th grade, especially since she'd likely switch her interest in careers only a year or so later. Kids rarely follow through on their plans from childhood.
She was surprised, actually, when she got to college and found herself enjoying doing essay work, but it didn't shock her one bit that Dodie was having the same trouble she'd had. Or, at least, she assumed she was. As it turned out, Dodie loved writing, and she'd already picked a subject on which to cover.
She just needed information.
***
"What'd you talk to your sister about?" Regina asked that night at dinner, and Dodie shrugged.
"I don't know. School stuff," she said casually, scooping peas onto her fork and eating them.
"Was she able to help you with your essay?" Regina asked, cutting into her fish.
"Yeah," Dodie said, "...she told me that she wasn't very good at writing when she was my age. She said that she didn't like it, and that it was hard for her but then dad helped her and she got a lot better and started enjoying it."
"That's true," Regina said, biting into her fish, "but her father showed her that with a little bit of effort, she can create worlds where she feels comfortable and happy when she isn't in reality. Sort of an escape, I guess. Your father loved writing, and he was excellent at it. I was always annoyed with him that he never did it professionally."
"...did Palmer leave any of her writing here that I can see?" Dodie asked, and Regina smiled, shaking her head.
"I'm sure she wouldn't want you to see any of it. I'm sure a lot of it's either extremely personal or extremely embarrassing," Regina said.
Dodie frowned. All she wanted to do was see what her sister was capable of, what she'd managed to learn from their father. No matter, she didn't need their mothers permission. She'd find her sisters writing that night after mom had gone to bed. Dodie was sneakier than anyone ever could've anticipated.
That evening, after her mother had fallen asleep, Dodie climbed out of bed and, with her little frog flashlight, snuck upstairs to her sisters room. She opened the door silently, crept inside and quietly shut the door behind her. She then started looking around her sisters room, though making sure to put everything back where it was so her mom wouldn't become suspicious, and finally found a series of ringbound pads of paper. She opened them up, sat down and wrapped her sisters sweatshirt around her, and started reading.
"Dad likes Dodie more than me. I should be happy, because Dodie is great, but I can't help but feel annoyed. I'm more annoyed at dad than her, obviously, because he should know how to talk to me, but he doesn't. He seems to only know how to be around small kids. I'm glad Dodie has our fathers attention, but I feel so alone. I don't really have any friends, and none of the boys I like seem to like me, so my only friends are mom when she's not working, and, of course, my sister. I sometimes wish she was an only child, because I feel like I'm just wasted space."
Dodie shut the book and immediately felt bad. She didn't wanna read anymore. She'd never known her sister felt so alone, and suddenly she felt guilty, as if she'd stolen their dad away from her. Now he was gone, Palmer was at college, and Dodie understood what being alone really felt like. She put all the journals back, exited the room and went back to her bed. As she climbed back in, she turned on her bedside lamp and started writing her essay.
She'd do for Palmer what their father couldn't.
***
Palmer woke up the following morning and rolled over on the couch, seeing Anita lying on the floor still asleep beside the couch, the bag of chips over her eyes. Palmer chuckled to herself, then groaned as she climbed off the couch and stumbled to the bathroom. She'd never really had a friend that was a girl before, so this "bonding" thing was new to her, but she was beginning to like it.
As she adjusted the mirror attached to the medicine cabinet and started doing some cleanup on her makeup and hair, she felt a sense of...belonging. This was new to her, and it sort of scared her, but she knew it was a good thing. She had to learn to have friends who were her peers and not her family. She sighed, pulled her eyeliner from the jar and started applying as Anita bumbled her way into the bathroom and dropped her panties, sitting on the toilet to pee, not even seeming to care that Palmer was there.
"Do you not have class?" Anita asked groggily.
"In about an hour," Palmer said, "No practice?"
"Not today, no," Anita said, "I may just snooze on your couch all day if that's cool. I could use the rest."
"My dorm is your dorm," Palmer said happily, "there's plenty of snacks and stuff in the little kitchenette. I've got frozen waffles, poptarts, whatever. Help yourself."
"Cool, thanks," Anita said.
Palmer gathered her things, and left to meet Arthur in the cafeteria. When she arrived, she found Arthur sitting by himself, and he happily looked up to greet her when she seated herself across from him. She smiled back as she plopped her backpack on the table in front of her.
"Your hair looks nice and curly today," she said.
"Thanks, I'm doing this new thing called showering," he said, "It's kinda legit, apparently people have been doing it for centuries."
Palmer laughed as she pulled out her course work for the upcoming class and started to look over it, just to make sure she'd done it right and she was happy with it. After a few minutes, she sighed and let the paper fall flat on the table as she looked back at Arthur again.
"...do you think I'm weird?" she asked.
"Yeah but it's why I like you," he replied.
"I've never had friends really, especially not friends who are girls, and now this track girl and I are hanging out all the time and it's...it's really nice. I feel good being a part of a feminine friendship. None of the girls at my old schools ever liked me. Actually, most people, regardless of gender, never seemed to like me much. My dad didn't even seem all that invested in me, really."
"Well, she likes you, I like you, your sister likes you obviously," Arthur said, "and dads are always more often than not gonna let you down. My dad is alright, but sometimes he can be a real jerk because I don't particularly adhere to his generations idea of manhood. Look at me, I'm wearing courderoy slacks and a sweatervest. Do I look like I care about sports?"
Palmer laughed again. She did enjoy having Arthur around to bounce things off of, this was true.
"...thanks for being weird with me," she said with a slight grin.
"Anytime, pardner," he replied.
***
"The person I most admire is my sister," Dodie said, standing in front of the class that morning, reading her paper, "...she's the coolest person I've ever known. She does whatever she wants and she doesn't let others tell her how to feel. She's at college now, and I wanna go to college someday because she did and she says it's cool. When our dad died, she came home and spent time with me to make sure I was okay, because she really cares about me."
Dodie waited a second, wiped her nose on her sleeve, then continued.
"My sister thinks our dad didn't like her much, and we learned I was my dads favorite, but I don't think that's fair. Parents shouldn't have favorites, and my sister is way cooler than I am. She's my favorite. She's strong, and smart and she does whatever she wants to do no matter what anyone thinks about it. She's always there to talk to me and help me, and she's a really kind and caring person. This is why my sister if the person I admire most, because even if she wasn't my sister, she's just a good human being, and I feel lucky to know her. I hope one day I can be even half as cool as she is."
Dodie waited for the teacher to give her the nod, letting her know she could go back to her seat. As she headed back to her chair, she noticed the girl sitting at the desk beside her. She had short orange red hair and soft almond eyes. Dodie sat down and the girl leaned towards her, whispering.
"I liked your essay," she said.
"Thanks," Dodie said.
"I'm Nona," the girl said, "you're lucky, I always wanted a sister, but my parents broke up."
"I'm sorry," Dodie said, trying to ignore her.
"...anyway, I liked your essay and your sister sounds cool. Sorry your dad died," Nona said.
"...thank you."
A moment passed as the next student got up and headed to the front of the class to read their essay, then Nona leaned in again.
"Do you wanna come over to my house this afternoon and play a game?" she asked, and after a moment, Dodie nodded.
"Okay, that sounds fun," she said.
As it turns out, nothing forces the Hurks girls to meet new people like the loss of those they already knew.
***
Palmer could remember sitting on the swingset in the backyard, watching her father play with Dodie when Dodie was only a few years old. She could remember being angry, being frustrated, feeling bad for being those things. She wanted to scream and hit him, but she never once wanted to hurt her sister. She loved her sister. This memory seemed to permeate Palmer's brain the entire day, and she found she was having a fairly difficult time getting through her classes without daydreaming.
Once the day was done, and Palmer wound up back in her dorm, she found Anita sitting still on the couch, eating a bowl of dry cereal. Palmer shut the door to the dorm behind her and stood there as tears began rolling down her face and Anita immediately got up, put her bowl down and put her arms around her friend.
"Whoa, what happened? You have a bad day?" she asked.
"...I think I hated my dad," Palmer said through her sobs.
"...it's okay," Anita said softly, patting her friend on the back, "everyone hates their parents at some point."
Palmer stayed and sobbed on her friends shoulder for a good 15 minutes or so. She'd never once contemplated that she'd outright hated her father, but now that the realization was sinking in, she felt even more gross about their relationship than before. At least when someone was alive and you were mad at them, there was the potential to fix it, but once they're gone...
...now she was taking his death personally, like he'd taken away the only chance they'd ever have to repair their relationship, a relationship he likely didn't even know was as broken as she assumed it was. Now she was mad at him for dying for an entirely different reason. While Dodie had a snack and played board games at her new friends house that afternoon, Palmer spent her day crying on her new friend on the couch. But both were grateful to have a girl friend to be with.
Sometimes the most healing thing for women, they'd both discovered, were other women.
Especially when men let them down so bad.