My sister and I had never gotten along growing up.
Which poses the question of why I am standing here in front of her door at ten o' clock on a Saturday night with my haphazardly packet duffel bag of clothes hanging off my shoulder and my patience warying thin waiting her to open the door. Feel free to call it the power of persuasion or something of the like. Or, you could call that power a three letter word most commonly known as mom. Thing is my mom had a dream of being cast in Dramas before she met my dad, fell in love and gave birth to two darling daughters. Even though that dream never materialised that didn't stop her from getting into character at times and dramatizing things that had no need to be dramatised. Maybe I was dramatising my patience at the time but I couldn't help it I hated to be left waiting.
The door swung in to reveal my sister dressed in an outfit similar to mine, fashion being the only thing we could ever agree on. Jeans, a snug fitting t-shirt with white cotton socks. Her reddish brown hair was pulled away from her face in a messy bun where as I let mine hang down past my shoulders. Her brown eyes where sharp with annoyance. I wasn't too glad to see her either.
"What are doing here?" She asks.
This is always the nicest way to be greeted. "What do you mean what am I doing here?" Mom phoned telling me to pack my bag and head over as soon as I could that she couldn't get a hold of you.
She smacked her hand to her forehead and in that instant I knew what my mother had done.
"Marissa are you honestly that gullible?" If I didn't answer one of her hundreds of phone calls it’s because I didn't care to hear her theatrics. She was right I was gullible and now I looked foolish standing in front of her like I was really concerned. I would never live the moment down.
Well this was obviously a huge waste of gas so I’ll just be on my way. I turned on my booted heel and began to walk away. I didn’t get farther than the first step before she called my name.
Look I’m sorry mom made you come all this way for nothing and I’d feel bad turning you away after what three days of driving? So I’ll let you stay the night.
I smiled. This was killing her, this display of kindness. Really Em you don’t have-
Please don’t make this anymore akward than it already is, just get inside. Walking back I made my way inside her apartment not surprised in the least at the sight I walked into. Emily is a neat freak you know the kind there’s a place for everything and everything should be in its place. I never cared for it. For me when things where as neat as my sisters I’m never able to find anything.
She walked past me down the hall where she opens a closet door and pulls out a blanket and pillow tossing them on the loveseat, I took it she didn’t get much company then faced me with her trademark stance of attitude. “There’s food in the fridge of you haven’t eaten I don’t care if you stay up late but know that you’re leaving early tomorrow. With that being said she went to her room and shut the door.
I head to the fridge to check it out. There’s a carton of milk, a small bundle of fruits and vegetables, salad dressings and a Tupperware bowl. I pull out the bowl and greeted by a shrimp Alfredo. I never knew my sister enjoyed cooking. I grab a plate and shovel some on it and pop it in the microwave on reheat. As I wait for it to heat up I take a look around her living room and notice something off. Then it dawns on me. Pictures, there isn’t a single picture anywhere.
I remember as a teenager our grandma had come to town from Texas for a Thanksgiving holiday. Emily would be graduating from high school in the spring. My grandma who didn’t visit a whole lot, she blames it on old age asked Emily what she wanted to do in her future. Emily didn’t answer like most teenagers answer the question such as “Well I was thinking of possibly going into…” or “I’m really interested in…” no none of that her answer was one word. Photography, I’d seen her messing around with a camera a few times but I never once saw a picture she had taken.
I head back to the microwave and take out the Alfredo which smells heavenly. Digging into it I think back to the living room. Her pictures could just be in her bedroom on her nightstand I tell myself. But if she were serious about it wouldn’t she want others to see them? I would’ve taken the time to savor Emily’s cooking but I really was tired after the long drive. Clearing my dish away I change into flannel pajama bottoms and a loose fitting t-shirt. I snuggle in one the tiny loveseat and fall blissfully asleep.
