AN: Once upon a time, back in 1880, in the remote land known as Brazil, a serial novel called "The Posthumous Memoirs of Brás Cubas" was published. Its author, Machado de Assis, was by far one of the best to grace those lands. The story was told by the recently deceased Brás Cubas, a very sarcastic and witty man.
This little drabble was inspired by this brilliant story, in a way …
The last we saw Edward … Well, he was dead.
"… Do you think he would have liked me?"
Edward felt like chuckling at the naiveté of his so called sister's question, but his current situation hindered such action. Was everything in her world always so black or white? Was that the benefit of legitimacy, of being sure of one's place in this world? Of course, being the product of an illicit liaison he didn't know the answer for that. And now he never would.
Objectively speaking, he had no reason to dislike someone he'd never met. And now that he'd met her, sort of anyway, Edward was forced to admit that she sounded nice enough, motherly even. Maybe they could have been friends … In another lifetime when he wouldn't have spent his whole life trying to measure up to the older sister his dad so obviously favored.
Esme was so well behaved. Esme was so beautiful. Esme was a brilliant student. Worst of all was seeing the proud smile on his dad's face whenever he spotted a picture of Esme on a newspaper or a magazine. Why couldn't his father ever look at him with such pride? And Edward tried so hard … He studied until his eyes couldn't stay open anymore, but to no avail—his highest grade was a B minus.
So, he turned to sports. He became a high-school star, dated the head cheerleader and was wildly popular—he was the picture of American perfection. Every now and then, there was some semblance of approval in his father's eyes—Edward had made it shine.
And it blinded him.