Sisters

Her sister Therese remembers when Rita was born. Therese, about ten years old, sat in the kitchen of their home holding her baby sister. Her fingers wound around little Rita’s ringlet curls; curls as bouncy as Shirley Temple’s. Her baby sister’s hair, a lovely chestnut brown, though sewn throughout, as if by the hand of God. It was stunning, with copper-red highlights the same color as their mother’s hair. She stared, transfixed by her sister’s beauty. She had a rose-budded mouth, big brown eyes, a sweet little smile, and a lilting laugh that stayed with her as she grew. When Rita was a year and a half old, she loved playing peek-a-boo and clapping with excitement whenever anyone came to visit.

Everyone commented on how beautiful Rita was. All the neighbors would stop by to see the new baby and bounce her on their knees, commenting on how well-mannered and easygoing she was. Annie, her mother, was always complimented by passersby while taking her out in the buggy. They often said that she was the prettiest Mannion girl of all. There were five Mannion girls, one more beautiful than the next, but Rita would rival each of them without even trying.

One day, Mary, who was a year and a half older, took scissors to her baby sister’s crown of curls and cut every single curl off. One by one she snipped her sister’s curls. One by one, they fell to the floor. One by one, Mary attempted to diminish Rita’s prominence as the fairest of them all.

In Therese’s recollection, their mother lost her mind. Inconsolable over what happened to her baby. Her gorgeous ringlet curls were gone, shorn from her delicate little head by a jealous sister. What’s worse was that their mother, Annie, a fighter for justice and a pillar in the community, did not know what to do with Mary. She lamented this responsibility, and the guilt rested on her since Mary seemed indifferent. She cried for days over the incident; of course, Rita had no memory of it.

She never saw the jealousy, she never acknowledged Mary’s envy through the years. Rita was different, not only striking in beauty and unaware of it; but she was also forgiving and kind.