dawn chautin. 2. nextgen fin.

I asked Mom one time why she didn't have any more kids. I was young and curious, one-track mind, not thinking about the obvious. She said that losing her sister was the hardest thing she ever had to do, and she didn't want me to ever have to experience that. Then she gave me a hug and I said "Oh," nodded a little, she squeezed me too tight, "thanks?"

We talk about Tiger a lot. Fondly. Mom said that she would have adored me. That she was my guardian angel. Our guardian angel. We would sit outside, basking in the desert sun and adding to our never-ending collection of freckles and talk about her. I'd ask questions, she'd be able to answer most of them.

And that was nice, y'know? Growing up having such open conversations with Mom. It felt like we could talk about anything and I wouldn't be judged - unless it was really bad, but all she'd do was frown and suggest an alternative. Mom told me that her parents never spoke to each-other, that they just screamed and fought. That's why she'd decided to have a kid with her best friend. So I'd grow up loved, no matter what.

Which is a sweet thought. Still, I can't help feeling like I was supposed to fill a sister-shaped whole in her heart and I'm not doing very well. Tiger seemed like human sunshine, personified - no flaws, just joy, in Mom's turbulent and depressing childhood home. The light in the dark. And I'm... not that. I try! I do! I just... feel like a raincloud sometimes. Most of the time. Almost always, these days. Negative Nancy, glass-half-empty, painfully realistic.

So I stopped asking as many questions the older I got, started doubting if I lived up to the empty space I was made to inhabit. I'd talk to Dad about it and he'd tell me not to worry over milkshakes (strawberry for me, caramel for him, mint chocolate for Mom in a takeaway cup) or trips to the athleisure stores (I grew two inches since last year!). He always says that Mom is the strongest person he knows - and he's known her a long time, since they were seventeen. That she always made choices with a lot of thought behind them. Never on a whim. That I was wanted, for me. Not as a replacement.

Which made me feel better, I guess, but I've got this horrible habit of instinctively smiling at anyone who asks how I'm doing - sunshine on a cloudy day - even when I'm feeling like shit. Dad says it's just puberty blues, I call him up on the bad days and we go hit softballs or play 1v1 Exy in the park. He's like my best friend too, in a way. Except he's my Dad also - not afraid to tell me off when I have a stink attitude or talk me down from a Mom-induced irritation.

And I respect that, you know? Coulda just plopped me into Mom and coasted, only seeing me on birthdays or when it was convenient for him. But the best thing about having a pair of friends as parents is that we all hang out together, all the time! And it's not even forced, like those kids who's parents sit coolly and cross-armed three feet apart at Career Open Days. We're not the most conventional family, but it works!

Better than having divorce trauma, y'know? I just have that standard teenage next generation crisis going on. But only sometimes!