Syrupy Lemons
There's a special rule in my family.
No matter what I do, I have to get permission from my younger sister, Bernette Emerson, first.
However, Bernette dies the year I turn five.
So, every time I ask Mom for something, she lights a candle and tells me, "If the candle goes out within one minute, that means Bernette has agreed to it."
But the candle never goes out on its own.
So, over the years, I've never worn pretty dresses or gone to amusement parks. I have no idea what cake tastes like, either.
Sometimes, when I get sick, I can't even go to the hospital because Bernette hasn't given me permission.
Now that I'm older, my vision is impaired, and I have a severe gastric problem.
Every time I show even a hint of dissatisfaction, Mom will scream at me. "If it weren't for you, Bernette wouldn't have died back then! You owe her this much, so you have no right to complain. At least you're still getting fed, aren't you? But what about her? She's already buried six feet under!"
Eventually, I believe I'm the reason Bernette died, and that thought has haunted me for most of my life.
Later on, I make a deal with Death, trading my life for hers.
I will return to the past and die in Bernette's place.
After death, my soul drifts back home.
I see Mom hugging Bernette with joyful tears rolling down her cheeks. "It's all my fault for putting disinfectant in a juice bottle. Still, it's a good thing Dahlia got to it first. If you'd been the one who drank it instead, I wouldn't know how to live with that!"