ERNIE AND ERNESTINA: Searching

Book Two, Chapter Eighteen: Sister Talk

My sister Tish and I are still talking.

“Growing up,” she says, “I always knew I wanted to be self-supporting, so I got my driver’s license and got out of that childhood house as quickly as I could. In a psychology class, I had to write a paper on important life events. My first important life event was going away to college. Up to that point, nothing had happened. Life was a routine. Get up. Put on a uniform. Go to school. My library card saved me.”

“I guess that’s why you’re a librarian,” I say.

“I really like to help kids find good books to read and to help adults find the information they seek. It makes me feel good.”

I can tell she wants to get off the phone, but I still want to talk. It feels so good to be talking to a sane and healthy person.

“Think about coming here for a visit,” she says. “I can already see myself hugging you at the airport.”

Her invitation brings wetness to my eyes. Tish is protective of her privacy. To offer to open her door to me is big.

“Perhaps, when I put my own house in order, I’ll reward myself with a visit to yours,” I say. “It will be good to be with you and David.”

“And the ocean,” she says. “And my cat. Her name is Shadow.”

Tish and David once had a dog named Shasky and a cat named Roland. Ernie and I once had a dog named Merlin and cats named Ruffian and Oyster. We were people who knew the names of each other’s pets. We knew each other’s work. We told each other our stories.

I miss that. I miss her.