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Jason wasn’t used to failure.
Straight-A student, high school football captain, prom king, Yale graduate – those things were just a part of him. Everyone, himself included, was used to things going his way. So it stood to reason that he’d been unprepared for the heavy, black cloud of failure that enveloped him as he looked at Cheryl’s broken body.
As Sheriff Keller and Dr. Curdle hovered over her, Jason clenched his teeth against the urge to push them away. That was his job, to keep the bad parts of the world away from Cheryl, ever since he was old enough to realize that people treated the two of them differently.
“Jason, what do think about you and your sister having separate birthday parties this year?” his mother asked.
Jason glanced over at the living room rug, where Cheryl was carefully brushing her dolls’ hair, and felt something click into place in his mind: people didn’t like Cheryl as much as they liked him. He had plenty of friends at school, but no one ever wanted to play with Cheryl unless he told them that they had to let her join. He didn’t understand why, Cheryl was the best. But that meant if they had two birthday parties, everyone would come to his and leave Cheryl alone. The thought of Cheryl’s face when she realized that no one wanted to be around her made his heart hurt.
“Well, darling, what do you think?” Jason’s mother had her pen poised above the dining room table, ready to draft the elaborate invitations that she sent out every year.
Jason met her expectant gaze and knew what he had to do. “That’s okay, I like it when we have a party together.”
“Really?” His mother seemed confused. “You don’t think you’re getting a bit old for that?”
Jason shook his head cheerfully. “Nope, I want to be with Cheryl.”
His mother came to stand beside him now, watching the scene with a pale face and tight lips. Jason barely registered her presence, his entire being still focused on Cheryl.
They watched silently as Sheriff Keller straightened and stepped back. Then, something horrible happened: Dr. Curdle lifted Cheryl, placed her on a waiting stretcher, and began pulling a sheet over her. He was taking her away.
Panic flooded Jason’s brain, and he stepped forward. This was wrong, he had to stop it, he couldn’t let anything else happen to Cheryl –
A hand grasped his arm. He flinched and looked down to meet his mother’s tense expression. “Don’t,” she said. Jason wanted to explain to her that Cheryl still needed him, but his throat tightened around the words. He tried to pull away, but her grip only tightened. “Jason, stop this,” she hissed.
“You don’t understand.” He finally found his voice, choked and painful as it was. He jerked back, forcing her to let go. “You always do this; you don’t even know what I –”
“Jason, please, don’t make a scene.” His mother’s expression was taut, like it was about to crumble. Jason stared back at her; years’ worth of pain stuck in his throat. Finally, he stepped back and took his place beside her, and watched as Cheryl was carried out of Thornhill.
When Jason got home from football practice, he could already hear the sounds of an argument coming from within the house. He dropped his backpack by the door and hurried toward the voices. Leaving Cheryl alone when their parents were angry was never a good idea.
Sure enough, when he reached the living room, he saw Cheryl perched on the couch with her shoulders hunched up toward her ears and their parents looking down on her disapprovingly.
“Really, Cheryl, this can’t go on,” their father was saying. “You think it’s your God-given right to make everything about you, but what about the rest of the family who has to deal with you?”
Cheryl did not respond.
“I agree, your selfishness has gone on for long enough,” their mother said. “Once I find a boarding school that will take you, you will be sent there to learn how to behave. Maybe then you won’t be such an embarrassment to the family.”
“Boarding school?” Jason stepped out of the room’s shadows, drawing the attention to himself. His heart pounded rapidly, but he kept his voice light. “Don’t you think that’s a little extreme, Mom?”
It was his father who answered. “Absolutely not. Both of you are too soft, too spoiled. You need to learn what it really means to be a Blossom.”
His father’s stare alone seemed like it could crush him, but Jason pressed forward. “What about when you retire from the maple business? Cheryl will need to be here then.”
“She will not. You know that responsibility will fall to you as our firstborn son.”
“Then I’ll need her here.” Jason finally let himself look over at Cheryl. Her tear-filled eyes were begging him to help. “I can’t do it without Cheryl.”
A heavy silence filled the room. Jason ignored the instinct to flee. Finally, his father nodded, just once. “Alright, son.”
“Cliff –”
“Let it go for now, Penelope.” Jason’s father turned back to him. “But I want you both to remember that you have responsibilities to this family. You will meet them, or there will be consequences.” He gestured to the doorway, freeing them to go.
Jason let Cheryl go in front of him, placing himself between her and their parents even as they left the room and fled upstairs. There, they embraced each other tightly, neither of them willing to let go.
“Oh, Jay-Jay,” Cheryl said. “Whatever would I do without you?”
The day of the funeral was mildly overcast. Even the weather couldn’t be bothered to mourn Cheryl properly.
The Blossom family chapel was filled mainly with Cheryl and Jason’s peers, former high school classmates who had often called her bitchy or Jason’s freaky sister. It was them that Jason had ended up thinking of as he was writing his speech.
“Cheryl could be hard to understand sometimes,” he told them now, standing next to the horrible wooden box that held his sister. “I was lucky, because I was her twin and we always understood each other. So I can tell you that Cheryl loved fiercely. She loved her friends, she loved her art, she loved her family. She loved me.” The faces in the crowd were starting to blur behind the tears in his eyes. “She had so much love to give, she just…didn’t get the chance to express it the right way.” He turned to the coffin next to him. Had he made them understand? Did it even matter anymore? He pressed his hand against the coffin, but he couldn’t reach her now. “I’m sorry, Cher-Cher. We failed you. All of us.” Especially me, he wanted to say, but the tears were now escaping in big, gasping sobs and he couldn’t speak.
He didn’t know if he’d stood there for an hour or a second when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see dark hair and familiar features filled with worry. Jughead.
He didn’t say anything, but he embraced Jason briefly. He couldn’t understand, but he was trying.
As Jughead carefully steered him back toward his seat, Jason met his mother’s cold gaze. Her expression said that he’d done the wrong thing. Something Cheryl would have done.
Good, he thought.
Cheryl usually came straight into his room, whether she was flouncing inside confidently or fleeing from their parents, but today she moved hesitantly as she slipped through the door.
Jason was instantly on alert. “Cher-Cher? What happened?”
Cheryl wrung her hands nervously. “Nothing happened, it’s just…Jay-Jay, you’d love me no matter what, right?”
“Of course I would.” Jason felt his pulse start racing with fear. “You can tell me anything, Cheryl.”
“Well…” Cheryl inched toward him and sat gingerly on his bed. “I think…I think I like girls.” She looked up at him with wet, fearful eyes. “Mother says it’s wrong, and I’ve tried to stop, but-”
Jason felt his throat tightening with hers as he sat next to her. “Mom’s the one who’s wrong Cheryl, not you. You’re perfect the way you are, and if anyone tries to hurt you for it, I’ll be there to protect you.”
Tears streamed down Cheryl’s cheeks, and she threw her arms around him. They didn’t need to speak anymore, a silent understanding hovering between them as they held each other tightly.
As soon as he could, Jason escaped down to Thornhill’s basement to make sure everything was perfect. As he opened the old iron gate, he felt something a little like relief in his chest. The heavy wooden coffin was gone. In its place was one made of glass, one where he could finally see Cheryl again. She lay with her long hair carefully brushed and her lips painted with her favorite red lipstick. She almost looked like herself again.
“There, sweet sister,” he told her. “I’ll never leave you again.”