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They say never to meet your heroes because you put them on a pedestal too high for anyone to live up to. But I’m in a precarious position of my hero being my sister-in-law.
I first met Rachel when I was five years old in a dusty, shoe-box dorm room. My brother
introduced his friend to my mother and me and we were instantly in love with this fairy-like girl. When she bounced through the door, she lit up the room with her long strawberry curls and endless freckles. She had piercings crawling up her ears and nose, with a few tattoos decorating her skin. Her clothes were ridiculously mismatched, but she didn’t care. She was like a god to me, and my sacrifice to her was my purple studded teddy bear which she happily accepted.
Graduation rolled around and she was headed to California with or without my dumb-in-love
brother. He of course went with. Our relationship grew even with the distance. I could count on her answering the phone at any hour, knowing exactly what to say when a boy broke my heart or how to cheer me up. After high school, I followed her to the same seaside town and became the official babysitter of their two little red-headed babies. Things were different now, she was a mother, wife, and boss at her work, but she never forgot about little ole me.
Then the pandemic came. For her family’s safety, she made one rule: no visitors. I knew it wasn’t personal, but I couldn’t help but feel abandoned. I stayed away thinking that was best, and to fill the loneliness I found myself a shiny new boyfriend.
Many months later with little contact from Rachel, I received an invite to a family camping trip put together by my mom. I was surprised, because of their no-visitor rules, but the restrictions were letting up and things were reopening. I said I’d go only if I could bring my new boyfriend; they accepted my terms.
During the drive, my heart pounded from excitement. I couldn’t wait to relax in nature and show off my new guy. The tents were set up beneath big pine trees and the air smelled fresh. It was just the break we all needed. However, once dinner was cooked and beers were opened trouble stirred. My boyfriend drank a few more beers than the rest of us and out of everyone chose to pick a fight with Rachel. She was always the most loving person, but I saw a different, angrier side of her that night. Of course, my brother took her side and my mom attempted to stay out of it. I pulled his stumbling body to our tent hoping to stop things before it got worse. I couldn’t sleep; his snores and my shock kept me wide awake thinking how could she do this? The next few days were tense, but all I could think was how she didn’t even give him a chance. We packed up and the family went our separate ways, never bringing up that trip again until… I found his incriminating messages.
Rachel was right about him the whole time and now heartbroken with nowhere to go I jumped in the car and left. I drove and drove until suddenly I was parking, walking, and then knocking on her front door. I didn’t know what I was going to say or do or even how to be around her anymore, but then it opened, and Rachel stood there.
She looked shocked to see me.
Past her, the sink flooded with kitchen dishes, and the floors cluttered. Piles upon piles of papers stacked up on her desk. I never thought that she was struggling too. Maybe she needed me?
I cleared my throat, wiped my eyes dry, and said, “I’m so sorry.”
I stood there frozen bracing for her to condemn my decisions. Instead, she wrapped her arms around me in a tight embrace.
Into my ear, she whimpered, “I’m sorry too.”
We swayed back and forth intertwined for what felt like hours. When I found my voice I finally confessed, “You were right, about him you know.”
She stroked my hair and said softly, “Oh honey, I really wish I wasn’t.”
We both laughed through the pain and as I pulled out of our hold to see her face I said, “That trip, I’m, I shouldn’t have brought him.”
She wiped her eyes and said, “He didn’t deserve you; I couldn’t watch.”
She looked at me with her blue sea eyes and I saw the same girl I had 19years ago, but now she wasn’t a hero or goddess; she was just Rachel – . my sister, friend, confidant, and more importantly, an imperfect messy human, just like me.
About Haley Joyce: Haley Joyce is an undergraduate at the University of Santa Barbara studying film and english. She wants to thank her sister-in-law Rachel for her endless love and support. Haley hopes to continue writing stories about the power of women and female friendship.
Stories Matters is a mentoring program founded by best-selling author and award-winning documentarian Leslie Zemeckis. Co-sponsored by the Santa Barbara International Film Festival (SBIFF) and ENTITY Mag, the writing program focuses on craft and confidence. Guest professional female authors join weekly, mentoring the next generation of female storytellers. A six-week intensive challenges every writer to work on an 800-word story about “A Woman You Should Know.”
