The Sun Fades Fast When She Shines Too Brightly

Wintertime always seemed to fall on Soleil the hardest.While others enjoyed the warmth of family and familiarity, fireplaces, flights back home, and yearly reflection, she always found the season so miserably drab. She did not like the idea that things seemed to stop or slow down, and she did not like the idea that people were settling down. She was a Gemini, a summer baby. Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off, read her Instagram bio. She thought it was quite cute. She was quickly bored and certainly unreliable, “but we love her anyway,” friends and family would say. So when Soleil returned home for only one day and nothing more, no one was very surprised, albeit certainly disappointed. Not with her absence, but with her inability to get a grip. As most live and plan their lives around ideas of “supposed to,” she often had no plan at all, a quality that young girls find amusing or even inspiring, but one their mothers know will lead nowhere.

Soleil was a lover of risky behavior. She was one of those people who believed that consequences didn’t apply to her, and if they did, she would be savvy enough to peel out of them. She thought that made her quite cute. Men who liked her did not actually like her but were instead infatuated with what they did not understand about her (which, in many cases, is better than a man liking or even loving you, because infatuation is what makes them really lose their senses, she thought). With her charms, she was able to skirt around different cities on other people’s generosity. Because she was never one to do anything she didn’t want to do, and was bad at confrontation, and in many parties had gained a reputation for leaving in the middle of dinners or agreeing to plans and never arriving, she was often having to leave town. 

She was, in fact, always leaving town. It became quite difficult to trace her whereabouts, for her correspondence with her loved ones always arrived just a little too late.

Greetings from Aspen, Colorado!

Darling Sister,

I just had the most magical time in Aspen. It is here that winter takes on its truest and most honest form—there is none of the cruelty that seems to permeate the seams of our sad hometown. Everyone here is pumped with a sort of adrenal glow, a byproduct of winter sportsmanship. With this supreme athleticism comes a perverse joviality, as if the ugliness in people becomes a source of wonderful and miraculous joy! Those rosacea-dappled cheeks… those flaky lips and lumpy sweaters and the doelike knock-kneed posture on the hill…it’s so attractive, all of it. And everyone is wonderful to each other, as if there is no shame left in the world. Nobody is hostile, and everyone a bosom buddy.

I wish I had enough space on this postcard to describe to you the cornucopia of women I’ve met while here—I’m sure you would find them quite inspiring, given your penchant for lipstick feminism and faux concern about the environment. These women love to dress up and eat clean. Perhaps more thrillingly, they love to dress me up and stuff me with organics. I think if they could compress me and put me in a little box and give me to their suntanned young children they would, and I would be tucked under their kids’ prematurely muscular little arms wearing doll-size YSL booties forever and you would be happy because I couldn’t go anywhere. You’d be so happy if I was immobile, wouldn’t you?

Well, that’s what I’m writing to you about. I ran into a touch—a touch, don’t get angry—of trouble with one of the mothers for whom I was nannying. You more than anyone should know that I believe in children’s autonomy. Children should be seen, heard, and treated like they are real. That’s why I thought of myself and this little boy as companions, not slaves to an antiquated power structure. It turns out that, while the mommy goes away, that I must act as both disciplinarian and nurturer—apparently, little kids aren’t supposed to make meals for themselves or take the bus to the grocery store when there is a perfectly good car available to their babysitter; they’re not supposed to hitch a ride in the back of a pickup truck alongside their new friends they made at the store; they’re not supposed to spend the night in the ski cabin (in their own bed, of course!) with the friends from the store; they’re not supposed to miss multiple days of ski camp due to a fun opportunity presented by the store friends to travel to Boulder to check out the college campus; they’re not supposed to go to R-rated horror flicks with a group of their babysitter’s closest friends at Colorado Boulder and they’re definitely not supposed to instigate fights with the other moviegoers at said theater and get taken in by the authorities for questioning. 

I personally believe that 10 years old is a fine age to do all of these things, but I suppose his mommy didn’t. Guess she wasn’t infected by the Aspen Ski Bug like I was! Anyway, I’m actually writing this to warn you—if someone calls you with a 970 area code, DO NOT PICK UP. I ended up being really successful in our little Robin Hood endeavor, so I just have to lay low for a bit and I’ll keep you updated with more and where you can help. You’re going to have to find a way to contact this kid because he’s holding a bunch of stuff for us, but I don’t know how he’s going to get away from his mother’s iron fist…you’ll figure it out! This winter works hard, but your sister works harder!

Love always,

Soleil

Hi ummm I hope this is Soleil’s sister. My name is [unintelligible] calling from Fort Lauderdale Cheesemongers. I’m wondering if you’re free to call and if you know where Soleil is? She was no-call no-show all of last week and uhhh… she had promised me and the other managers that she would stay here the entire season because the demand has really skyrocketed in the past couple years for these senior snowbirds, everyone wants the cheese especially the rare and exotic types and we just got a shipment of Casu Marzu up from the ports in Miami and she says she knows a guy that could resell at a premium…are you and Soleil close? I need that guy’s connect. She came here midway through the season talking about a boy she knew in Colorado and saying she might send him some of the Pule as a gift…could she be there? If you know where she is, give me a call. She mentioned something about Aspen goodies? Were you in Colorado with her? Do you know the little boy that loves cheese? I remember her talking about this whiz kid that would send her packages here sometimes. I thought she meant Cheez Whiz! Anyway, I have the trunks he sent here. Do you want them? Can I open them? Please call me back soon because I need to get Soleil at the counter again. These geezers love her! Great for business. Tell her that if she doesn’t return soon I’m selling these trunks, they look nice. Maybe our Miami port guy could exchange them for more Marzu. I’m not threatening you. I just want our season to run smoothly. I hope this is the right number. Bye.

Greetings From Sunny Fort Lauderdale! The Venice of America.

Hello my lovely!

So, Florida is not the place for me. Too muggy! And that cheese joint you recommended…God. I think I’m still perspiring dairy. I’m sure these new clothes smell like rotten cream, though I think some sick freaks may be into that so I’m not worried. That being said, Lauderdale is the perfect place to lay low for a couple of weeks. It’s actually quite pleasant here. I’ve taken a liking to American artifice, the endless beige strip mall of it all soothes the nerves for a girl on the lam. I’m totally kidding. I’m not on the lam, per se. But I do need my nerves soothed, and there’s nothing like the pathetic, gentle lapping of the Atlantic against your bare ankles to remind you that everything is going to be okay. 

By the way, did my friend from work call you? You’ve always been my emergency contact. I got that kid from the Rockies to ship over some goods for my coworker to hold here. I told you, children need to be treated as independent entities. Give them the Huckleberry Finn intrastate roadtrip of their wildest dreams and they can be quite useful. The trunks he shipped over should be waiting at the loading dock if you can make your way down South in the coming couple of weeks. Can you make it? You know, you always say you’re cleaning up my messes, but in reality, I think you actually love the travel. And you love the thrill! 

As I’m penning this letter I can feel the sweat pooling in the pits of my knees and eking out of the band of my new straw hat. Lord, I hope Florida goes underwater soon. Have you heard of the terrifying new hybrid between the Cuban vs. American crocodile? That’s how I imagine our siblinghood. I’m the cunning Cuban croc, fast on land and intelligent to boot. You’re the American—always brooding, large, and great at swimming. Nobody thought they’d be able to hybridize, but extreme climatic conditions brought them together and now a nightmarish new brood is terrorizing the gulf coast. That’s just like us.

I miss you, sister. Come get your Florida cheese. I can’t say I’ll be here very long.

XOXO,

Soleil

URGENT: NOTICE EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY

Soleil Please Come Home

To whom this may concern,

I hope that this message finds you well. Should you not heed the imperatives contained within my (rather polite, given the circumstance) correspondence, I can assure you that you won’t be in great condition for much longer. This is your first, only, and final warning. Soleil tells me you are her sister. I don’t care if this is in name or in spirit, but let me tell you—you and this conniving, slippery, snake of a woman owe me 45k and I expect it in cash or money order by the end of this week.

Soleil, if you happen to be with your sister while she’s reading this message, just know, I miss you so much and I would give anything to have you back next to me on that threadbare mattress. I’ll revoke this threat if you just come back to me. Every time the sun rises on this horrible, flat, apocalyptic plane I can’t help but think about the way the rays slid through the window onto your sleeping face. 

This winter has seen record lows, but these were the warmest weeks of my life. In the desert, the temperature quite frequently drops below freezing at night, and for the past few weeks, it did. Soleil and her thumb were perched on the side of the road at sunset. What could I do? I had to pick her up. I had to take her back to town, buy her some groceries and a hotel room. It wasn’t my fault that she (you? Soleil, are you there?) wanted to spend more time together, and it wasn’t my fault that she moved into mine and then told me we should drive across the country in search for gold like they did in the 20s. Soleil, it’s your fault that I bought that van, and your fault that we spent those weeks fixing it up in the biting morning hours.

And Soleil, why did you take the keys? Why did I find the van completely totaled on the side of the road beyond repair? Where was the transmission? Where was the catalytic converter? Where were my blankets and my pillows and my opal jewelry and my jade? Why the hell would you do that to me?

You have one week. Or sooner. Come home and we can live like royalty in this wasteland.

Yours Forever or at least until Friday,

Your Man

Greetings from Death Valley!

Sissy dearest,

I miss you from nowhere and everywhere. Sometimes I wish you could see me, crouched low in the seat of a Greyhound, hiding from the pale blue light of the early morning…it’s not always glamorous, my sister. The desert was stale and dry. My skin doesn’t look beautiful when contrasted with the dust. The people are fucking crazy. They truly believe that they live on some other planet, instead of two hours away from the nearest highway entrance. They believe in energy portals and planetary influence. They have no head to screw onto their shoulders, and if they did, they would arrive to their procedure, head and screwdriver in hand, only to realize they’ve left the screws at home! 

I’m heading away from it now, but I won’t tell you where I’m headed because I have a feeling that some people who may think that they’re my friend will be trying to find me, through you, of course.  

Don’t respond to anyone, or believe anything that anyone other than me says. You will be receiving some jewels in the mail very soon, which you are to hide away in the deepest depths of mother’s closet. DON’T take them out, and DON’T tell anyone you have them. Do not mention my name and do not answer any questions that anyone asks you. I am not trying to scare you but it is the most important thing right now that you trust no one. Just know that I am safe and I can take care of myself. No one knows your name, and anyone who would want to try and threaten us isn’t smart enough to do so in any meaningful way, or rich enough to afford the travel. Everything will blow over in time. Go to work, make dinner, pay off your credit card bill in full each month. You will see that your worries of today will have been buried by committing thousands of small “supposed tos” of each passing day. 

I know that sometimes my lifestyle and my choices elude you. I want you to know that I might not be writing for a while due to safety reasons. Don’t try to call or email; all my accounts are null. Just know that I will be back in time for your birthday in the spring, when everything will be good as new. When the rain washes away, you’ll know. 

I love you very much,

Soleil

Photographer: Eji Studios

Illustrator: Paula Castro 

Stylist: Annika Fisher 

Producer: Annie Bush

Lighting Tech: Joe Elgar