Page 12 of Barefoot Chaos
"Hessa."
"Rainna."
My sister. My twin sister. My twin sister who I hadn't spoken to in two years.
"May I come in?" She didn't smile and neither did I. But I did back up to let her step through the doorway.
You give her an inch, she'll take a mile, just like always. She waltzed right into my private space and helped herself to a seat on my couch.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, dear sister?" I sat down on the chair next to the couch and crossed my arms over my chest. I couldn't imagine why she was here. We'd said all we needed to say two years ago when I'd loaned her money yet again, correct as usual that she'd piss it away with nothing to show for it. The break had been a peaceful one, even though I'd find myself about to call her and putting the phone back down again, heart dropping at the loss.
We'd been close growing up, until we'd hit puberty. I hadn't changed much but Rainna became a wild child. She cut her hair super short, dyed it crazy colors and body piercings started showing up in random locations. I resented these changes as I took them as a personal offense. She didn't want to look like me anymore and that hurt. Things got worse after high school when I went off to college and Rainna jumped from minimum wage job to minimum wage job, all while only contacting me when she needed financial help from the responsible sister. I'd grumble, I'd give lectures, but I'd always give her the money.
Until two years ago. For whatever reason, I'd snapped, refusing to give her a damn penny and kicking her out of my house. When I was done, I was done.
She was following in the footsteps of our father, completely abandoning responsibility and letting everyone else pick up the slack. I hadn't had a choice when I was just a kid. He'd left us with our mother, traveling in his van all over the country, never remembering to write us on our birthday or send child support checks. When we did see him, he'd laugh off our concerns, saying we needed to "chill". I hated everything about his hippie lifestyle and now as an adult, I had no intention of being involved with anyone like that again.
Now we sat, staring at each other, cataloguing the differences that two years can make. Rainna's hair was longer than mine and dark brown now. She looked thinner but in a healthy, fit way. A few more tattoos decorated her arms and several facial piercings were noticeably missing.
"You look good, Hessa."
I snorted in response. Her eyes dropped and I watched her square her shoulders to try again.
"It's been two years." She looked up at me and I thought I saw a confidence and clarity in her gaze that had never been there before.
"It has. How's life been?" I did want to know what she'd been up to since I saw her last. I may not approve of how she was living her life, or how she was trying to use me, but that didn't mean I'd stopped caring. She was my twin; I'd never stop caring.
Her eyes softened at my question and I felt like we were eight years old again, sharing secrets in our indoor tent made of blankets draped over chair backs.
"I've been really good, Hess. I'm part owner of a tattoo shop north of L.A. I'm saving for a down payment for a small house up there." She stopped and the corners of her mouth turned down. "But I miss you."
I closed my eyes, savoring her words. My heart melted and I wanted to believe her so badly. But part of me still wondered if she was buttering me up for an outrageous request. I hated that I expected that from her, but years of similar treatment trained me to think like that.
"I miss you too, Rain." That was honest and I could give her that.
"But you won't forgive me, is that it?" The hardness was back in her eyes, dousing the hope that flared.
"It's not a matter of forgiving you. I'll always forgive you, you know that. What I won't do is continue to let you, or anyone else, treat me badly." I was tired of having this conversation. Maybe one day it would get through her thick skull.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and continued. "I know. I know I treated you badly and I'm sorry. I can promise I won't treat you like that again. I'm getting my life together. Finally. I hope one day you'll come to trust me. Can you at least keep an open mind about me?"
I'm sure coming here and apologizing, for the first time ever, took a lot of courage. I didn't know what her angle was, but I could meet her halfway and promise to give her a second chance.
"Thank you for your apology. And yes, I'll try to lock down the negativity and keep an open mind." I nodded, confirming my commitment.
A smile formed on her face, transforming her from average woman to beautiful creature. I'd missed that smile, so open and free with unrestrained happiness.
I put my hand on hers, giving her a squeeze meant to convey forgiveness, hope, and love. A small gesture to signal the start of our long journey back.
She stood up, looking ready to head out. She glanced down at the ottoman in front of the couch and promptly sat back down. Her hands shuffled the papers there, before grabbing them up in excitement.
"Are you writing a poem? A song?" She looked overly intrigued and I couldn't let her continue to read my inner most thoughts expressed on paper.
I snatched the papers out of her hands and held them to my chest. "Just playing around so I don't lose the plot dealing with teenagers all day."
She laughed, entertained by my attempt to cover my panic, I'm sure. "You're the last person who will ever 'lose the plot', Hessa. When you look up practicality in the dictionary, it pops up your picture," she said out of the side of her mouth, a wry smile in place.
"Exactly. That's why I write. To make sure I don't lose my mind. They say using both sides of your brain leads to a lower chance of mental decline later in life."
