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“Well, that’s not what I was going to do. I thought I could help you pick something from your side,” I explained meekly.
“Sorry. I didn’t know that.”
“No, you didn’t. Because you’re always so short-tempered and closed off. You don’t let anyone help you with anything.” I knew this girl better than anyone. That would be the only comment I’d get in beyond surface-level pleasantries. She typically flipped her mood switch after a single comment regarding her temperament.
“I don’t need anyone’s help. Nor do I need the guilt trip that always follows, you know?” she answered while tugging a formfitting dress over her hips.
Yep, here we go.
“When have I ever guilted you for needing help? That’s just not true, and it’s not very fair.”
I had no idea what compelled me to keep this conversation going tonight. Normally I would’ve shut my mouth and just left her alone. All the crap going on with Andrew and the damn incessant painful throbbing in my arm made me curt, however.
“I don’t want to argue with you, Maye. You’re right. That was unfair of me to say to you specifically. Sorry. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to be late.”
“Where are you going? I’ve asked like three times, and you keep evading the question one way or another. Why won’t you tell me? You look like fire, by the way.”
And she did. Her body was way too thin for anything but a bodycon-style dress. Even that hung more than it was designed to in certain areas, but I would never add to her already fragile and distorted body image by saying something about it.
Shepperd exhaled pointedly and said, “I have a date.” The admission was immediately followed by her full-stop hand gesture before I had a chance to ask anything else.
“I’m begging you not to harass me with a litany of questions now that I told you.” She huffed impatiently.
“I’m just excited for you, Shep. That’s not a bad thing.” This perpetual guard she had up was exhausting to constantly butt into.
My sister gave herself one last look in the full-length mirror on the inside of our closet door and apparently was content with what she saw.
“You look fantastic. Someone will be very happy to see you tonight.”
“Thanks, Maye. Cover for me with the units if this runs long?” she asked by way of the mirror. Regardless of how bitter her temperament, I’d always have her back, so of course I gave a quick dip of my chin.
“You’re the best twin ever,” she said and scooped up her purse from where she had tossed it on her bed earlier.
“Do I know the guy you’re seeing tonight?” I asked, desperate for her to stay a little longer. Talking with her was the most excitement I’d had all day. The minute she left, I’d sink right back into my own head.
“No, you don’t know him. His name is Lawrence, but everyone calls him Law. It’s the dude from the gym I was telling you about,” she admitted. “But I really have to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, because I’m sure you’ll be sleeping when I get home.”
With a grin, I teased, “I may have to wait up for you just to get the scoop about how the date went.”
“Don’t,” she shot back instantly. But then softened the rough edges of her response with, “I have no idea how late I’ll be. You need to rest.”
And with that last mini glimpse of concern, she was off.
I fell asleep soon after, thanks to the pain medicine finally doing its thing. Fitful dreams tormented me most of the night, however. When morning came, I felt worse than when I went to bed.
My mom helped me wash my hair. It was as good as any comedy routine trying to wash and rinse my long hair in our kitchen sink, but what were the options? There was no way I could do this for six or eight weeks. I’d have to schedule weekly appointments at my regular salon to have it washed and styled, and I felt sick when I thought about the toll that would take on my savings account.
How had everything gone from amazing to complete shit in a matter of days? On top of my personal hygiene dilemma, I still hadn’t heard a word from Andrew.
The realization that whatever was brewing between us was probably over before it had started was starting to settle in. I still alternated between sadness and anger when I thought about it for too long, so I did my best to avoid thinking about it. Lame, I know, but I had shifted into survival mode. I couldn’t spend another day lying in bed feeling bad for myself. It just wasn’t my style.
By the time Shepperd got home, it was almost six p.m. I texted her around four thirty, asking if she was still up for taking me to Andrew’s, and she explained she was stuck in traffic and doing her best to get home. She looked like a nest of hornets had taken up residence in the back seat of our shared car by the time she walked in the front door.
“There are days I literally hate this city,” she spewed as she dropped face-first onto her bed.
Since I’d been waiting for her for hours, I was fresh-faced and ready to go and suddenly feeling very guilty that she’d have to get back in the car.
“Hey, listen…if you’re not up for driving me over to his house, I get it. I know sitting in traffic can suck the life out of you.”
