My best friend married my sister, who has Down syndrome. Later, she nearly died giving birth to her twins. While the doctors fought to save her, he took me into an empty hallway and whispered, “Now is the time for you to understand WHY I REALLY married her.” What he revealed next made me scream.
I was seven years old the first time I realized that my sister was different, in a way that the world would punish her for.
He was six years old, one year younger than me.
Her eyes lit up every time someone affectionately spoke her name.
Most of the children didn’t say it kindly.
They pointed at her and laughed.
My sister was different in ways that the world would punish her for.
They mocked her until she burst into tears.
I stood in front of her like a small wall, with my fists clenched at my sides.
Ben, my best friend, was the only one who never blinked.
—Rosie, you’ll always have Ben and me —I told her.
I repeated it over and over again, until he believed it.
He chose her for the kickball game, while the other captains rolled their eyes.
In fourth grade, he knelt in front of her and made her a promise I’ve never forgotten.
They mocked her until she burst into tears.
“Rosie, when we’re older, I’ll take you to prom. I promise.”
Rosie clapped and smiled radiantly at him.
“You heard it,” she said breathlessly. “Ben said it.”
I nodded, feeling a warmth in my chest that I couldn’t yet define.
***
The years passed, as they usually do in happy years.
Ben used to come to our house by bicycle almost every afternoon.
“Rosie, when we’re older, I’ll take you to the prom.”
My mother tolerated it.
My father barely looked up from his newspaper when he came in.
But Rosie waited by the window to hear the sound of his tires.
***
When I was seventeen, I began to imagine a future with Ben.
Never out loud.
I simply had quiet fantasies about him, me and Rosie, our lives happily intertwined, while I did my homework or combed my hair before going to bed.
She had begun to imagine a future with Ben.
I also thought he had seen it.
The way he stayed on our porch.
The way he laughed at the things Rosie said that only I found funny.
***
Then, one Sunday, when I was twenty-two years old, Ben knocked on the door.
She held a small velvet box in the palm of her hand.
My heart was beating so fast that I felt dizzy.
She held a small velvet box in the palm of her hand.
“Can I talk to Rosie?” he asked me.
I blinked. “Rosie?”
“Yes. Is he in the garden?”
I stepped aside without answering.
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