What Netflix’s Sirens Gets Right About How Going No-Contact Affects A Family

At first, I was on Devon's side. Then I was on Simone's. My allegiance shifted back and forth between the two sisters on the Netflix series Sirens as they battled it out about their dad, Bruce, and his dementia. One sister chose to forgive him for their past; the other did not. Who is right? Who is wrong? After sitting glued to my television for five sunlit episodes of Sirens, I still don't know. And this is the truest thing about going no-contact with a parent when your sibling has not: It's just never resolved.

I should tell you that my own childhood did not resemble the horror that Simone (Milly Alcock) or Devon (Meghann Fahy) suffered. Of course not. Simone's mother committed suicide when she was just 7 years old, and what's worse — what's unbelievably worse — is that she tried to kill Simone along with herself. Devon, her older sister, was the one who stepped in to save her. Devon eventually had to save her little sister again, this time from the abuse and neglect of their grief-ridden, alcoholic father (played by Bill Camp). A man who treated his young daughter so poorly that she was taken away and put in foster care, where she suffered even more abuse.

We meet the two sisters as Devon is spiraling out of control years later, trying to take care of her father after his dementia diagnosis and reaching out to a distant Simone, who sends her a sympathy fruit basket in response. Turns out 25-year-old Simone has moved on with her life. She is a devoted (some might say too devoted) assistant to billionaire philanthropist Michaela Kell (Julianne Moore), who has taken on a bizarre mother/best friend/sister/daughter role to Simone. She's not interested in Bruce or his care. She has not spoken to him in 10 years. And Devon simply cannot accept Simone's decision to go no-contact with their dad.

I have been the Devon for most of my adult life. I have a sibling who went no-contact two decades ago and has not looked back. I tried everything. I tried empathizing, understanding, commiserating. I moved on to crying, nagging, guilt trips, lightly veiled threats. Nothing worked. My sibling had moved on with their life, and no matter how hard I tried to make it about me, it was not up to me.

I have also been the Simone at times. I stopped speaking to my parent for brief periods of time when I needed to find my center — when I couldn't find it in me to let go of things that, as Simone likes to say, "did not serve me" or when my life from before felt like it was becoming bigger than my life from now. And so I cut off contact. I moved on with my life, and I told myself I felt freer because of it. For a time, this was even true, and what I am now learning is this: Just because I have shifted my lens does not mean my sibling has to shift along with me.

Our parents are aging now. Health issues are starting to crop up. And much like Devon, I'm taking the brunt of it. Much like Devon, I sometimes wish I wasn't alone with this feeling of responsibility. Sometimes, I wish my sibling would just get over it and help me. But the "it" I want them to get over, much like Simone, is different for them than it is for me. It is a branch on a path they removed, while I just stepped over it. They do not feel responsible for our parent, and the rotten reality is that they're right. They don't owe any of us anything. Not our parent, not me.

It changes everything; of course it does. When you are the one who is still around, you are the one answering the questions. Devon is constantly fielding queries from her dad about Simone. Where is she? Why isn't she coming home? When will he see her? Little knife-cut questions that hobble Devon, that have her questioning her sister and her right to stop talking to their dad. As though his illness might erase an entire childhood of pain or an adulthood chasing connections that Simone should have been able to forge as a little girl.

This is the fork in the road the sisters come to, that so many of us come to when one sibling goes no-contact. They make a sort of peace with the fact that Simone will never step in to help with Bruce, and Devon will be taking the brunt of it all. And it's not like either one of them really gets off scot-free. They are both still prisoners of their parents' decisions on some level.

Devon because she has committed to taking on all the responsibility. Simone because she has never really healed, doomed to chase down father figures and mother figures and friends who will give her the thing she never had as a little girl...

A parent who kept her safe.