honey.” I cleared my throat and took a sip of the strong black coffee that was wafting up toward me. “Anything I can help with?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t over stepping my boundaries.
“Boys suck. Being a girl sucks and I’m just mad.” I smiled into my mug. The reason behind the boys’ hasty retreat became clear. My brain translated her mood and words in a way that reminded me of long-forgotten attempts at sisterhood with Nikki.
“PMS?” I asked quietly, picking up my lightly buttered toast and trying not to laugh.
“Yes, I hate it. It turns me into a rampant lunatic,” she grumbled, bringing her fork up to her lips and shoving a dripping piece of pancake into her mouth, nearly inhaling it. At that moment, I wished I’d had a sister who cared enough to have a relationship with me.
“You wanna talk about it?” I asked my little sister Nikki from the doorway of her bedroom.
“No, I don’t want to talk to you, Little Miss Perfect,” she screamed into her pillow.
“Come on, Nikki, you know it isn’t like that.” I really hated when she called me that considering as I had always felt like the outsider of the family. I didn’t like dressing the part in ridiculous dresses, perfect makeup and flawless hair. I wanted to go out camping and be bike riding with the boys. I wanted freedom and the power to choose what I did with my own life. I wanted out of this suffocating society of snooty women and demeaning men.
“You just had to go and ruin my life, didn’t you?” she screeched at me from her pink, puffy princess bed.
“I haven’t ruined your life. I was just pointing out that I don’t love him. I don’t and I should be able to marry whoever I want, shouldn’t I?” My small display of rebellion had come about after my parents and Wesley had sprung an engagement proposal on me.
“If you don’t marry him, I’ll be looked down on for you being a spinster.” She spat the word ‘spinster’ as if it offended her. “You’re getting too old for anyone to want to marry you.” She glared at me through her cold gray eyes.
“I’m not too old. I’m twenty-four. Twenty-four isn’t too old.” I didn’t bother to argue with her on the spinster status affecting her chances of a good pairing since that much was true. If I didn’t marry Wesley and lay claim to his family, word would get around that Highsmith girls were difficult, thus lowering the chances of Nikki marrying well.
“Stop being a bitch and just marry him. He’s rich for crying out loud. You won’t have to work a day in your life and you can live like mother.” Her gaze turned dreamy at the mention of money and Mother’s lifestyle of pretentious debutants, country clubs, and martinis.
“I wish you and I could have some other kind of relationship. You’re my sister for Christ’s sake. We’re supposed to have more than this, ” I verbalized, the wind from my sails deflating when her porcelain face screwed up.
“Relationship? No, what we have is an arrangement and you are nothing but competition. I’ll be polite and put my game face on when people are around, but know that that’s what I see you as. You’re competition to me. Just know that I will win. My marriage will be more plentiful and richer than yours. My husband will spoil me in lavish gifts. I’ll do it bigger and better than you ever could and with more class.”
“Don’t for a second think that you’ll ever have more class than me, Nikki. It’s sad this is the kind of life you want. You’re looking at it through rose-colored glasses. Can’t you see how lonely it would be? You think pretty things and fancy dinners will make up for that? You’re wrong. You’re so very wrong.” With that, I turned and left the wicked witch to her precious castle. My family were horrible people with tiny minds and conniving attitudes. I had hoped I could save Nikki from becoming the one thing I detested by opening her eyes to the realities of our lifestyle.
“Boys suck. Being a girl sucks and I’m just mad.” I smiled into my mug. The reason behind the boys’ hasty retreat became clear. My brain translated her mood and words in a way that reminded me of long-forgotten attempts at sisterhood with Nikki.
“PMS?” I asked quietly, picking up my lightly buttered toast and trying not to laugh.
“Yes, I hate it. It turns me into a rampant lunatic,” she grumbled, bringing her fork up to her lips and shoving a dripping piece of pancake into her mouth, nearly inhaling it. At that moment, I wished I’d had a sister who cared enough to have a relationship with me.
“You wanna talk about it?” I asked my little sister Nikki from the doorway of her bedroom.
“No, I don’t want to talk to you, Little Miss Perfect,” she screamed into her pillow.
“Come on, Nikki, you know it isn’t like that.” I really hated when she called me that considering as I had always felt like the outsider of the family. I didn’t like dressing the part in ridiculous dresses, perfect makeup and flawless hair. I wanted to go out camping and be bike riding with the boys. I wanted freedom and the power to choose what I did with my own life. I wanted out of this suffocating society of snooty women and demeaning men.
“You just had to go and ruin my life, didn’t you?” she screeched at me from her pink, puffy princess bed.
“I haven’t ruined your life. I was just pointing out that I don’t love him. I don’t and I should be able to marry whoever I want, shouldn’t I?” My small display of rebellion had come about after my parents and Wesley had sprung an engagement proposal on me.
“If you don’t marry him, I’ll be looked down on for you being a spinster.” She spat the word ‘spinster’ as if it offended her. “You’re getting too old for anyone to want to marry you.” She glared at me through her cold gray eyes.
“I’m not too old. I’m twenty-four. Twenty-four isn’t too old.” I didn’t bother to argue with her on the spinster status affecting her chances of a good pairing since that much was true. If I didn’t marry Wesley and lay claim to his family, word would get around that Highsmith girls were difficult, thus lowering the chances of Nikki marrying well.
“Stop being a bitch and just marry him. He’s rich for crying out loud. You won’t have to work a day in your life and you can live like mother.” Her gaze turned dreamy at the mention of money and Mother’s lifestyle of pretentious debutants, country clubs, and martinis.
“I wish you and I could have some other kind of relationship. You’re my sister for Christ’s sake. We’re supposed to have more than this, ” I verbalized, the wind from my sails deflating when her porcelain face screwed up.
“Relationship? No, what we have is an arrangement and you are nothing but competition. I’ll be polite and put my game face on when people are around, but know that that’s what I see you as. You’re competition to me. Just know that I will win. My marriage will be more plentiful and richer than yours. My husband will spoil me in lavish gifts. I’ll do it bigger and better than you ever could and with more class.”
“Don’t for a second think that you’ll ever have more class than me, Nikki. It’s sad this is the kind of life you want. You’re looking at it through rose-colored glasses. Can’t you see how lonely it would be? You think pretty things and fancy dinners will make up for that? You’re wrong. You’re so very wrong.” With that, I turned and left the wicked witch to her precious castle. My family were horrible people with tiny minds and conniving attitudes. I had hoped I could save Nikki from becoming the one thing I detested by opening her eyes to the realities of our lifestyle.
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