A Pond’s Reflection
by Leo Landon
The moment Carter closed the door to his car, he nearly collapsed against the steering wheel, his head down and eyes closed. It was routine, by now – a desperate attempt to breathe out the ache in his hips and back after hours of standing at a cash register, a forced smile etched on his face. His mind wandered, as it usually did in these quiet moments, to his little sister.
It was easy to forget that she wasn’t actually dead. The past year and a half had been a torturous mix of grief, oppressive silence and careful hope. Carter had never been alone in his pain, in the joints slipped out of their sockets, but where he had kept it quiet, she was loud.
Maddie had been loud in every sense of the word, hyperactive and smart as a whip. He remembered the first time they brought her to the hospital, after a fall playing soccer dislocated her kneecap. He remembered how hard she cried, how she looped her arms around his neck as he carried her to the car, how their parents grimaced at the strangers looking their way. He remembered the eerie familiarity he felt when she first started leaning on any available surface to walk, begging to be carried, complaining that her hips and knees and ankles hurt.
She always had it so much worse than him. He had been thirteen when his body began to betray him – she was seven. He had learned to hide it, quickly and forcefully, learned to take painkillers and sit when he could, to grin and bear it and pretend like nothing was wrong. She never tried, or maybe never could – he remembered the countless doctor’s visits he’d taken her to, desperately searching for answers, remembered holding her when she sobbed that it hurt, that she didn’t wanna walk anymore. He remembered arguing with their parents until they bought Maddie a pair of bright orange forearm crutches – he remembered her toothy smile when she realized how much they helped.
Carter remembered the night their parents had pulled the two of them aside, gleefully sharing the news that they had found a treatment program for Maddie. She had just turned nine – “a late birthday gift,” they said, and she beamed, bright as the sun.
By morning, she was gone.
Carter could see the relief in their eyes. There were no more pain medications, no more stares, no more people telling them just how brave they were to raise a child like…that. She would be cured, after all. Carter found her crutches in the bin a week after she left. He grabbed them without a thought and hid them in the back of his closet, covered in her old baby blanket.
For a year and a half, he’d heard nothing. The program forbade contact with family, which was so outrageous that some days Carter wished he knew where his little sister was, so that he might go to her, bring her home – or, maybe, just drive away and never look back. Still, something small in him hoped, desperately and carefully, that there was truth to every bit of praise their parents had spouted about the program’s results.
Raising his head off the steering wheel and rolling his arms to loosen the ache in his shoulders and neck, Carter hoped. He hoped that it was working, that his sister might be well and truly better, that she might come home, that maybe he could feel better, too. As he turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot, he could almost say he prayed.
***
The first thing Carter heard after the familiar creak of the opening front door was a soft peal of laughter coming from the kitchen.
He crept through the living room without any fanfare, but as soon as he poked his head into the warm amber light of the kitchen, his heart lurched. The little girl standing at the counter lit up as soon as she saw him. He didn’t get a moment to process before she was barrelling into him with the force only a ten-year-old could muster.
“CARTER!” she squealed, her thin arms wrapping around his waist and squeezing with all her might, “I MISSED YOU!”
Carter couldn’t breathe.
“Maddie?” he croaked, hands shaking even as they instinctively wrapped around her.
She was here. His sister was here, in his arms. She was taller — her hair was longer and voice slightly shifted, all the changes a year and a half of growth would bring, but- she was here.
The shock wore off like ice melting, draining out through the soles of his feet, replaced by an all- encompassing joy.
All at once, he crouched down and picked her up in a burst of energy he hadn’t felt in years. She shrieked and giggled and buried her face into his shoulder, and he squeezed her tight.
“Carter I can’t breeeeeeeathe,” she complained, delight in her eyes.
He only laughed, softly, pressing his forehead against hers.
“You’re home.”
***
Despite the initial rush of Maddie’s return, Carter noticed very quickly that something was wrong. For all intents and purposes, his little sister was cured – she never complained anymore, never questioned where her old crutches had gone, never even mentioned the treatment she’d received. The few times Carter asked her, he was met with a simple “They made me better!” before she returned to rambling about anything and everything else.
Something about it gave him goosebumps. His parents didn’t notice anything off; really, they were more delighted at Maddie’s sudden health than anyone else. Out of nowhere, family outings became the mandatory norm again, showing off Maddie’s drastic improvement and singing the praises of the program above all else. Every offer Carter made for a piggy back, or a break to sit down, was met with haughty assurances: “No, no, she’s fine; she can walk.”
It almost triggered his fight or flight. Looking at her, standing and smiling, felt wrong. There was something he was missing. He desperately wished he knew where she’d gone, so he might spend an afternoon researching their methods – and maybe, if nothing else, he could try them on himself. Maybe it would be better than Tylenol and his car’s heated seats.
The answer hit him all at once, one warm Saturday afternoon in the park with her.
Every time Carter stood up, he would hesitate, for a half-second, inhaling slightly before the pain inevitably hit. It was routine. It was something small, almost imperceptible, that made the transition back into the typical ache of standing just slightly easier to tolerate.
The two were sitting together on a park bench, bird- and people-watching as they took a pause from a walk. The familiar music-box jingle of an ice cream truck rang through the air, and Carter saw the look in his sister’s eyes. They were wide open and staring straight into his soul.
He stared back at her, an eyebrow quirked up. She stuck her bottom lip out comically far, and Carter broke into laughter.
“Yeah, we can get ice cream.”
Maddie pumped both her fists in the air and kicked her feet, while Carter pushed himself off the bench and dug for his wallet.
And then—
There it was.
He glanced at his sister and saw the moment's hesitation. The tiny inhale. The split-second brace for impact.
It hit him like a truck. How many times had her smiles been gritted teeth in disguise? How often had she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, quietly giving her joints a rest without sitting down? How closely did she pay attention to the gazes of those around her, so she might drop the mask for a half-second when their gazes turned away?
It disgusted him, to see his own habits reflected, a mocking mirror image in his little sister. Maddie had not been cured. She’d been trained, conditioned, pushed until her mask was better than his own – and he’d been practising for five years.
Taking a breath and holding back tears, Carter crouched down in front of his little sister and said, willing his voice not to crack, “C’mon, I’ll give you a piggy back ride.”
She laughed and jumped on his back without a moment’s hesitation, and though it nearly sent him face down onto the pavement, Carter only felt the relief of knowing he could do something to help.
***
As the summer trudged on, Carter found himself bringing Maddie along practically everywhere he went. It was a desperate mix of holding her close, making up for every second he’d missed her, and trying to coax some semblance of her former self out from the high walls she’d built around herself.
It was slow. It was so heartachingly slow—l leaving his Tylenol in plain view in the car, letting her know she could take some if she needed, offering rest and heat and quiet days, if she wanted. Every time he did, he watched her expression flip from terror to debate to resignation before she inevitably declined.
The split second of fear in her eyes hurt worse than anything else; she wasn’t scared of him, that much was evident in how she clung to him like a limpet to a boulder, the way she fell asleep on his bean bag more nights than not with a novel or one of his comics fallen to her chest. But something had instilled fear as her split-second, instinctive response to being offered a rest.
It was as though Maddie almost expected to be punished for accepting it.
The night Carter realized that, driving home from work, he had to pull over to the side of the road and vomit. He held her a little bit closer after that.
***
The first time he convinced her to accept rest was dumb luck. Carter woke up in agony, his hips and lower back conspiring to leave every movement a hellscape of aches. Still, when Maddie came charging into his room just before lunch begging to go on a picnic, he couldn’t refuse.
Getting out of bed was slow. He chased her out of his room so he could change, stretching to grab the nearest t-shirt and pair of cargo shorts. He pulled himself to standing, seeking support on every flat surface he could reach. By the time he’d gotten himself down the stairs and to the kitchen, Maddie was standing with a basket packed and ready to go.
Their picnic spot was a short hike from the parking lot, an old woodchip path lined by trees and benches. Even gritting his teeth and taking an extra painkiller before they left the house, it wasn’t long before Carter had to ask, “Mads, can we sit down for a minute? My back hurts like all hell.”
It didn’t take a second for her to respond, with an offhand, “Yeah, okay!” before she plopped herself on the nearest bench, patting the seat beside her.
It took a while for him to get there, and in that time he saw her practically melt into the bench.
They rested together, for a while, until Carter took a breath and pushed himself off the bench, offering a hand to his little sister. She took it, inhaling in her own small way as well, and they finished their walk to the park together.
After that, it was a little bit easier. Carter could read Maddie’s face like a novel by now – how couldn’t he, when she balled her fist, clenched her jaw, swayed side to side in all the same ways he did. She was a pond’s reflection of his, distorted slightly by the wind, but familiar all the same.
***
Carter and Maddie’s little song-and-dance routine evolved, slightly, eventually. The act of taking rests became the norm, so long as their parents weren’t present, and Carter even found himself asking to sit without glancing to see how his sister was feeling. His back really did hurt, and he wanted a chance to rest.
One warm day walking through the city, he gathered the confidence to pause and wrap a brace around his knee, visible below his shorts. He pretended not to notice the way Maddie stared, and brought out a second (much smaller) one, if she wanted.
Once, at the aquarium, Maddie dragged him to a bench, huffing and saying, “You keep limping. Sit down!”
He suppressed a snort at that – in reality, today had been incredibly good for him, there was no chance he’d been limping without realizing it.
As they sat together, he noticed her flip between staring at him defiantly and avoiding his gaze completely, and it occurred to him that this was the first time she’d been the one to suggest they sit.
Carter grinned for the rest of the day.
***
Maddie was curled up asleep in the front seat beside him, as they drove home from a festival he’d been begging to bring her to for weeks. She had loved it, as he knew she would, but the commotion and late night wore her out like nothing else.
It was quiet and peaceful, driving down a country highway without a car in sight, the road lit only by the moon and his headlights. He had a folk album playing, just loud enough to keep him focused on the road, soft enough to keep Maddie comfortable.
It was nights like these that he most wished he could leave home and never return, live on the road and see the stars every night. His 18th birthday was fast approaching. It was technically possible, but Carter knew he could never leave his sister behind.
As if on cue, she shifted in her seat to face him, still curled up tight. Her eyes were bleary, half closed, and she looked… sad.
“Did Mom ‘n’ Dad throw away my crutches?” she asked, so quietly that Carter would have missed it if the music hadn’t gone quiet a moment before.
He paused, taking a breath, keeping his eyes on the road. Something in him knew that if he looked at her, the spell would break, and she would close up again.
“They tried to. Just after you left. I took them back and put them in my closet, though,” he replied, just as softly.
She hummed, and fell silent again.
“Can you put ‘em in your car instead of your closet?”
Carter nearly broke into tears, right then and there.
“Yeah, Maddie, we can do that,” he said, voice cracking.
Not much changed in the grand scheme of things, that moment. Carter drove through the night, flicking his brights on and making a face as his eyes adjusted. The moon and stars shone down on the highway. Maddie fell back asleep in the front seat beside him.
Their world seemed a little brighter.