So Spoke the Sister

by Lori D’Angelo

The women in bonnets rode barebacked, pushing through brambles and blackberry bushes. The woman with oceans for eyes trotted in front of the others, her skin hot burnt, her hair caked with dirt. Belinda called for her missing brother, who was gangly and just thirteen. Her mother had given up hours ago, but Belinda and her volunteer band of riders had only widened their search, fanning out like seeds, though they all felt that this had the makings of an uneasy bedtime story. The ones that said stay on the path, in the house, safe.

Cedric, Belinda’s boyfriend, suggested that the boy had been washed away by water. But Belinda willed that brothers you loved could not just fade to nothing. Robert was strong, and he had swum in colder creeks than this. Cedric, said Belinda, with branch-scratched irritation in her voice, go on home. Cedric was smart enough to tell the difference between a suggestion and a command.

The women galloped ahead as the wind beat their faces. Against the pounding, Belinda screamed his name. Robert to the trees. Robert to the wind, Robert to the air, and then the boy emerged as if her calling had, in fact, willed him back. From where and why, she’d never know.

Sister, he said, I have returned.

Yes, she said simply, yes, as if this ending was always inevitable. As if others were impossible. As if sisters could, by their wanting, make their wayward brothers return.

BIO: Lori D'Angelo is a grant recipient from the Elizabeth George Foundation and an alumna of the Community of Writers at Squaw Valley. Recent work has appeared in BULL, Ellipsis, Moon City Review, North Dakota Quarterly, Rejection Letters, Talk Vomit, and Voidspace. Find her on Twitter @sclly21 or Instagram at lori.dangelo1.