Belongings
by Angela Lemond

	Whom do I belong to? Am I yours? Are you mine? Daughter. Sister. 
Friend. Enemy. Child. Woman.

	We are going at it again. This time in my college dorm room. My 
pretty perfect room with the flowered bedspread, dried flower arrangements, 
sorority pin, and mauve carpet. I must have the mauve carpet to bring out 
the color in the bed cover.
	"What do you think of my room? Nice, huh?"
	"It's okay."
	We start off all right. Strange really, you called unexpectedly to 
tell me that you wanted to come visit. You've been in college three years. 
Me only one. You never asked to come up before.
	"You want to come for a visit? Sure! We'll have a blast! I'm so glad 
you called. I miss you."
	Well, day one went okay. Perhaps that is because you slept most of 
the day.
	"You want to go to class with me?"
	"No, I'm tired."
	"Should I skip? We could go do something together."
	"No."
	I told everyone you were coming, all my friends. Do you want to meet 
my sister? My sister's here. My older sister came up for a visit. You're 
gonna love her!
	For some reason you didn't like my friends much. I think you said 
that they weren't your "kind of people". Somehow I thought you would like 
them more. So they aren't as sophisticated as you crowd, l bet they are my 
friends--they are all I've got up here."
	"So, what do you guys do up here all day with no men? You must sit 
and eat all day. That's what you do. I've never seen so many fat women in 
all my life! Doesn't the sun ever come out? Everyone up here needs a tan. 
you've been working out haven't you? ...You're taking dance classes every 
day? You shouldn't exercise so much. I've told you before you always look 
so bulky when you exercise. You're too short for all that. It really makes 
you look fat."

	Woman? No, child. I guess I'm still a child. Your child in a way, 
how did that happen? How did I become your child? 
	I keep thinking of that picture of the two of us. You are only two 
years old; I a six months. We're at a park. You are sitting down with your 
legs spread. there's a little fat thing plopped between your legs. I t 
looks like a fat little Indian wrapped in a big multi-colored blanket. I'm 
told that it is me. everyone says, "Look at Michelle holding her babydoll." 
Maybe you always have been the mommy.
	So many times I have resented that. I felt like I had two mothers to 
answer to. first there was you, and then Mom. Why is it you first? Maybe 
you resented it too.
	
	I'm 15 years old. I'm going to the Bearkadette Ball. I'm on the 
drill team. They say that I've got the highest kicks on the line. For some 
very good reason that I have since forgotten I decide to get drunk with my 
girl friends on the telephone party line. I'm home alone. l you ran out to 
pick up my flowers. I seem to be rather incapacitated when you return. you 
dress me and comb my hair. you take time to make up my face. I look like a 
Barbie doll--a Black Barbie doll. I never thanked you for that. Thank you.

You try to pull me together.

	"See if you can walk. If you can make it down the hall without 
falling I'll hear you sneak past Dad."

	So, like I said we got through day one. You slept a lot. Day two 
wasn't as good. HE called.
	
	"He's my friend. What is he doing calling you?"
	"Michelle, I really think I like this guy. He's special. We've 
gotten to be very close. Can't you understand? Please don't do this."

	Well, you know the rest. We scream. You tell me that I've never been 
a good sister or a friend. I believe you. You tell me that you hate me and 
can never forgive me for all the things that I've done to you. I believe 
you. I cry.
	I leave the room and stay with a friend that night. you pack all 
night and leave at 5 a.m. the next morning. My friends think we're strange. 
The people in the dorm whisper about the two crazy sisters.
	
	"I always thought she was normal."
	"But look how they acted. And they let everyone hear! I always heard 
they were a real emotional kind of people."
	"Yeah, they're so overly sensitive."

	You never did come up for another weekend visit. We never really resolved the real issues. 
You got married and became a mom; I went on with my life and found someone else. We both lost 
touch with him. We found that he wasn't as important as we once thought.
	What were the real issues? I secretly wonder if you still hate me.
	Whom do I belong to? Am I yours? Daughter. Sister. Friend. Enemy. Child. Woman.